My fear of dentists, however, comes from personal experiences building from school.
Our school dentist was a failed member of the Sweeny Todd School of butchery, when he came to the school, he rarely used enough pain killer and had the touch of a drunken sailor. Many is the time I left the chair in far more pain than when I sat down.
The dentist I had through most of my stay in Clevedon was more concerned in filling my rotten teeth than easing my pain. The only good part about going to see him, was I got to see his lovely secretary, Christina, who was a school friend of mine-she was also the ring leader of the group which cornered my in an alleyway in the school.
Around this time, my mother told me I had inherited her teeth problem-rotten teeth, but brilliant roots.
During my period in the RAF, I can only recall one instance of going to the dentist and that was at RAF Laarbruch, I was in such pain I ate ice cubes to ease the agony and despite my friends telling me to go to the dentist, my fears over ruled them to the extent I had to be chased around the section and taken by force.
Many years later, I decided to register as a learning aid with the School of Dentistry, here in Bristol. I thought they need to learn somehow and as they were students, I didn't have to pay for the treatment.
One instance which sticks in my mind is the day I had a tooth out and after 3 shots of Novocaine I still had pain, the dentist went ahead, but to get the tooth out he had to kneel on my chest-yes (!), you read that correct.
Naturally, all this fuelled my fear and I swore the only way I was having another tooth out was under gas-wrong-some years later I needed an extraction and despite my wishes, they used the injection, again it took two doses to kill the pain.
So, you see, my phobia of dentists reads like a horror story.