Trust Me, I’m Dr. Ozzy

Dr. Ozzy’s A-to-Z of Uncommon Complaints

Every day, people write to me about the craziest shit you’ve ever heard in your life. A lot of the questions are so far-out, it’s impossible to sort them into any normal categories. That’s why I’ve put all the whacky stuff into this chapter and listed them alphabetically—so if you swallow a tennis ball, get a screwdriver stuck in your right ear, or start vomiting through your eyeballs, all you’ve gotta do is look under the right letter, and hope you find the answer. Personally, I wish I’d had a guide like this for myself over the years, ’cos it would have come in very handy that time when my right leg started to dance a jig all by itself (look under “J” for “Jimmy Legs”), or when I accidentally ate a bumblebee on the way to the pub (see “F” for “Flies & Other Insects’ ”). Oh, you’ll also find some “Surgery Noticeboard” announcements in between the Q&As: we print these in The Sunday Times Magazine whenever we get a ton of e-mails on one subject. As a fake newspaper doctor with fuck-all qualifications, I’m always happy to pass along other people’s dodgy advice.

A.

Animals (Effect on Mood)

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

My dog, Clive (a Labrador), seems awfully glum, to the point where it’s beginning to get me down. Could he be suffering from doggie depression? If so, what can I do about it?

Amy, Lille, France

Doggie Prozac—ask your vet about it. Personally, the only doggie depression I’ve ever experienced is the feeling I get after one of my four-legged friends takes a dump behind the sofa.

Animals (Effect on Sleep)

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

Every night I go to bed with my dog, Ozzy (named after you), but wake up at 4am. I really want to stay in bed longer, but no matter what I do, I can’t get back to sleep. Is this something to do with Ozzy, do you think? Please help, it’s driving me crazy.

Sammy [No address given]

I don’t see how one dog could be much of an issue—I go to bed with 17 dogs, plus about 20 mobile phones, and the wife. It sounds to me more like you’ve got a sleep disorder. I’ve had the same problem for years, so I got someone to come over to the house one evening, put all these electrode things on my head, hook them up to a computer, and see what was going on in my brain. He was up all night, this guy, twiddling his knobs and studying his graphs—he must be a raging insomniac himself—and when the results came back, my doc put me on a mild anti-depressant which helps me nod-off easier. It beats sleeping pills. Or whacking myself on the head with a mallet.

B.

Brain (Use Of)

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

Is it true that humans use only 10 per cent of their brains, or is this just another one of those stupid myths?

Andrew, Kent

I fucking hope that ain’t the case, ’cos I’ve only got about ten per cent of my brain left. By your definition, that means I’m running on about one per cent these days. Actually… that explains a lot.

Breath (Offensive)

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

My breath is really bad—to the point where I can’t talk to people who are close to me. I’m a student here in Ghana, and I find it difficult even just to say “Hello” to friends on campus, because I just don’t want to embarrass myself. Please Dr. Ozzy, I need your help…

Emmanuel, Ghana

A long time ago, I made a pact with my wife: if my breath is bad, she has to tell me—and vice versa. Obviously no-one needs to break the news to you, Emmanuel. By the sound of it, when you open your mouth, the sun gags. My guess is that the problem is being caused by one of two things: something very nasty in your gut, or gum disease. If I were you, my first stop would be a dentist—although you might want to give her some advance warning, so she can put on a rubber suit and face mask, and light a few candles around the room first. In the meantime, try Euthymol, an old English brand of toothpaste, which makes you feel like you just gargled with gasoline and lit a match. Also buy some ultra-strength mouthwash, like Listerine, and get yourself a tongue scraper.

Burping (Potential Side Effects Of)

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

A friend told me that burping too hard can rip a hole in your stomach, is this true?

Anna (12 years old), Long Island, New York

No. I wouldn’t have any stomach left if that were the case. In fact, I once saw a bloke on telly who could talk and burp at the same time. I tried to do it myself once, but ended up puking into Sharon’s handbag. Lesson: some things are best left to the professionals.

Bedbugs

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

My husband and I have developed such a paralyzing fear of bedbugs that we’ve become like prisoners in our own home. How can we get over our paranoia?

Tara, West Village, New York

I’ve never had a problem with bedbugs—probably ’cos they take one sip of my blood and drop dead from all the toxic shit in there. But I understand your concern: no-one wants to wake up with a thousand little red bite marks on their ballsack. Just bear in mind that bedbugs aren’t the worst thing in the world. I’m about to go to South America, for example, and I’m told they have these “kissing spiders”: they crawl up your body and onto your face, squat over your lips, secrete an anaesthetic, suck out the blood, take a dump, then scamper away back to their holes. Meanwhile, the spider crap contains a kind of bacteria that literally eats your heart out. I’m so freaked out about it, I’m probably gonna spend the whole tour sleeping in a sealed Ziploc fucking bag.