Ozzy Osbourne - Trust Me, I’m Dr. Ozzy

Not being insane, she refused.

I always thought it was just the booze and drugs that made me do crazy things like that, even though I’ve always been a terrible hypochondriac, and in some ways quite an anxious and insecure person. But now I’m thinking it’s got more to do with my genes. Being a warrior—the crazy, Alamo-pissing, bat-eating Prince of Darkness—has made me famous. Being a worrier has kept me alive when some of my dearest friends never made it beyond their mid-twenties.

Before Dr. Nathan left, I told him my theory. He frowned, nodded a bit, squinted his eyes. Then he said, “Look, Mr. Osbourne, after studying your history, taking your blood, extracting your genes from the white cells, making them readable, sequencing them, analysing and interpreting the data using some of the most advanced technology available in the world today—and of course comparing your DNA against all the current research in the U.S. National Library of Medicine, not to mention the eighteenth revision of the public human reference genome—I think I can say with a good deal of confidence why you’re still alive.”

I looked at him.

He looked at me.

“Go on, then,” I said. “Spit it out.”

“Sharon,” he replied.

1. Which of these creatures might have existed in real life years ago—thanks to a far-out genetic mutation?

a) Hobbits

b) Unicorns

c) Dragons

2. What was genetically special about Lakshmi Tatama when she was born in Bihar, India, in 2005?

a) She had four arms and four legs

b) She had a conjoined headless twin

c) She had three heads

3. What do scientists put in genetically altered salmon to help keep them alive in very cold water?

a) Antifreeze

b) Polar bear DNA

c) Special “alleles” that tell the fish to grow thicker skin

4. Scientists understand genetics because of this garden vegetable:

a) Carrots

b) Brussels sprouts

c) Peas

5. The world’s first cloned sheep, Dolly, was named in honour of…

a) One of the scientists who created her

b) Dolly Parton’s tits

c) Doncaster Polytechnic

Only two things in life are supposed to be inevitable: death and taxes. Unfortunately that ain’t true, ’cos there’s something else you’ll never be able to avoid unless you live in Antarctica, Siberia, or Northumberland: people . They’re everywhere. At work. In shops. On your Facebollocks computer thing. And that’s a massive problem if you ain’t a people person, ’cos you’ll end up spending half your life getting into arguments, feeling embarrassed, not knowing what to say, having the piss taken out of you, or, even worse than all that, just being a boring fucker at parties. Luckily, Dr. Ozzy is here to help. Even if your idea of holiday is a month by yourself in a cave, all you have to do is follow the advice in this chapter, and you’ll be able to handle anything another human being can throw at you. Just don’t expect to like them.

Or for them to like you.

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

I hate “bear-hugging” other men, even close friends. How do I avoid it without offending anyone?

You’ve got a mouth, so say something. I know some tough-guy types who think it’s cool to say hello by getting me in a headlock and wrestling me to the ground—a “buddy slam” they call it over here in California. More like a load of macho bollocks, if you ask me. So if they try it, I tell them to fuck off. I mean, if your mates started to say hello by punching you in the face, you’d do something about it, right? So why not just say to them, “Look, I don’t like having my head in your armpit while you whack me on the back like Hulk Hogan, can’t we just shake hands, or wave at each other or something?”

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

I’ve suddenly developed a habit of putting my foot in my mouth in the most cringeworthy ways imaginable—like blurting out jokes about fat people in front of overweight friends. What could be causing this sudden outbreak of tactlessness? It’s not booze, because it’s happened as many times sober as it has when I’m drunk.

It won’t make you feel any better, but we all drop a clanger every now and again. You can’t beat yourself up about it too much, ’cos life would be pretty boring if we all talked like politicians. And believe me, your fat joke’s nothing compared with the shit I used to say when I was drinking four bottles of cognac a day. One time, I had to call up Brian Wilson from the Beach Boys after a big night out and say I was sorry for telling him I was glad his brother had just died. That was about 20 years ago, and I’m still cringing now.

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

I’m a happily married man, but I keep getting inappropriate e-mails from a male co-worker. Some are just dirty jokes, but others are graphic fantasies, like how he wants to sodomize me in the handicapped bathroom stall. At first it was funny, but now it’s creepy and I want it to stop. Obviously I don’t want to say anything to the boss.

If someone I knew started sending me e-mails about sticking their one-eyed wonder anywhere near my rear end—joke or otherwise—I wouldn’t be writing to Dr. Ozzy for advice, I’d be using my mouth to tell him to stop giving me the fucking creeps, man. I mean, how about sending this sicko a reply that says, “Don’t ever e-mail me again ”? If that doesn’t work, confront him in private. Failing that, get yourself a sexual harassment lawyer.

Dear Dr. Ozzy,

I recently took in a lodger, who said he was only going to be staying only a fortnight—but he’s still here, six months later. Worse than that: he coughs all the time. It’s driving me crazy. What can I do to get rid of him, or the cough, or both? Thank you.

I’ve never had an annoying lodger, but I did once have a next-door neighbour who played tennis at midnight. It doesn’t sound like much, but believe me, you don’t want to hear thwock , thwack , thwock when you’re trying to get some shut-eye. It was like living on centre court at Wimbledon. In the end, I set up my billion-watt PA system in the garden, and the second I heard him starting to play, I blasted some thrash metal in his direction. That soon put a stop to it. The same thing would solve your lodger problem, I reckon. After a few sessions of “The Best of Goatwhore”—highly recommended, by the way—he’ll be begging to leave. And it’ll drown out his coughing in the meantime.