Jack Vettriano The LetterJack Vettriano The Billy BoysJack Vettriano Private DancerJack Vettriano Mad Dogs
'Can't sheem to bend down like I used to,' said Cohen, sheepishly. 'Of courshe, you don't get to meet many chiropodishts in my line of work. Funny, really. I've met any amount of snake prieshts, mad godsh, warlordsh, never any chiropodishts. I shupposhe it wouldn't look right, really – Cohen Against the Chiropodishts . . .'
'Or Cohen And The Chiropractors of Doom,' suggested Bethan. Cohen cackled.
'Or Cohen , and looked very small and old.
'True, of corsh,' he muttered. 'I don't blame you. It'sh hard to be a hero with no teethsh. It don't matter what elsh you loosh, you can get by with one eye even, but you show 'em a mouth full of gumsh and no-one hash any reshpect.'
'I do,' said Bethan loyally.
'Why don't you get some more?'said Twoflower brightly.And The Mad Dentists!' laughed Twoflower.Cohen's mouth snapped shut.'What'sh sho funny about that?' he asked, and his voice had knuckles in it.'Oh, er, well,' said Twoflower. Tour teeth, you see . . .''What about them?' snapped Cohen.Twoflower swallowed. 'I can't help noticing that they're, um, not in the same geographical location as your mouth.'Cohen glared at him. Then he sagged
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