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

Yes, shrinkage is very real, and very upsetting. I don’t know about the percentage, though: I’ve never thought to get out my slide rule and calculator when it’s happened to me. Also, in case you’re wondering, hot water doesn’t have the reverse effect—otherwise you’d see guys walking around with electric kettles swinging from their underpants.

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

I’ve decided I don’t want any more kids, so I’ve asked my doc to give me the snip. Good idea?

There are a lot of ways to avoid having kids that don’t involve surgery. Also, the thing you’ve gotta remember about a vasectomy is that you can’t undo it—well, you can , but it ain’t easy. I’m speaking from experience here: in the 1980s, whenever I came back from a tour, I’d get Sharon pregnant, to the point when she had our three kids—Aimee, Kelly, and Jack—in three years on the trot. She’d had enough of being the size of a semi-detached house by then, so I went to my doc and told him to get out his sharpest pair of scissors and do what was necessary. The op was fine, although I had a bit of swelling afterwards (“Doc, can you make it not go away,” I said). The real problem came a few weeks later, when Sharon got all broody again. So I had to go back to the doc and ask him to unsnip me. “I wish you lot would bloody make your minds up!” he said to me. Anyway, whatever it was he did to glue my tubes back together obviously didn’t work, ’cos there weren’t any more little Osbournes after that.

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

Last month I noticed that in my right testicle, there seem to be two “balls” instead of one. I don’t have any pain, though—should I see my GP?

Yes, immediately . It could be something, or it could be nothing—but if you feel any kind of strange lump in your balls, you can’t ignore it, because it could be life-threatening. Testicular cancer is a lot more common than you’d think. A good friend of mine had it: they put some of his man-juice in a jar—in case he wanted to have kids later—got the scissors of doom out, then gave him a blast of chemo, just to be on the safe side. I’m not trying to be funny, ’cos it ain’t. And I’m not saying you’ve got cancer, either. But in a case like this, don’t mess around, man. Forget Dr. Ozzy. Go and see a real doctor.

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

I’m pretty sure I have a much-smaller-than-average penis. As a result, I’m scared of talking to girls and am thinking of getting enlargement surgery. Is this a good idea?

Look, if it ain’t broke, don’t try to fix it—’cos the only thing worse than a very small penis is a very small penis that shoot blanks and looks like some mutant fucking eel from outer space. I mean, just think of the shit that could go wrong, man. Those plastic surgeon guys couldn’t even get Michael Jackson’s face right, so why would you entrust them with your dick ? I certainly wouldn’t believe the ads they send you on e-mail. Believe me: if that stuff really worked, there’d be lines around the block. My advice? Steer clear.

1. If your partner has a headache before sex, what’s the best natural cure?

a) A game of hide-the-sausage

b) An early night and plenty of sleep

c) A neck massage

2. If a girl has a fling with a guy who says he has diphallia, what should she expect between the sheets?

a) Delayed ejaculation

b) A “micropenis”

c) Double the pleasure

3. When a 22-year-old student from California auctioned her virginity in 2009, how much did she get?

a) $50,000

b) A packet of fags and a box of Maltesers

c) $3.8 million

4. During the “Honen Matsuri” festival in Japan, what do 12 men carry through the streets?

a) A naked woman

b) A 96-inch wooden schlong

c) A ceremonial bowl of human sperm

5. A bloke in the Wodaabe tribe of Central Africa will find a wife by…

a) Putting on a skirt and taking part in a beauty contest

b) Arm-wrestling the potential bride’s father

c) Showing the size of his woody to the town’s elders

I might know fuck all about molecules, equations, or the periodic table, but I do know something about chemicals—mainly ’cos I was off my nut on them for the best part of 40 years. Things have changed a lot since my junkie days, though. Back in the 1970s, for example, you needed a dodgy dealer and a wad of cash to get your hands on any mind-altering substances. These days, it’s all legal . As long as you’ve got a prescription, it’s considered perfectly acceptable to be stoned out of your mind 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. The problem is, people are happy to empty all these jars of pills down their neck without ever reading the labels—probably ’cos the warnings are all written by lawyers and say crazy things like, “Side-effects might include DEATH.” That’s where Dr. Ozzy comes in. If you want a straight answer about a medication, why not ask someone who’s taken everything ?

Just bear in mind, though: before putting any drug in your body—even if it’s completely legit—you should always talk to someone first who didn’t used to be in Black Sabbath . As for all those people who are still using illegal drugs in one way or the other, all I can say is, “Been there, done that, and I honestly pray to God I never go back there again.” I mean, yeah, some of it was fun at the time. So is driving your car at 150 mph on the wrong side of the road. The trouble is, sooner of later, there’ll be an 18-wheeler coming round the corner in the opposite direction. And that won’t be any fun at all.

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

I work at a high-energy law firm and recently got myself a prescription for Adderall to boost my work performance. Thing is, I’m totally not ADD. Is this cheating at life?

It really depends how much you’re taking. If you’re necking a handful of the stuff a time, then you might as well go to work on a gram of fucking cocaine. And as time goes by, you’ll get a tolerance to it, and you’ll have to keep taking more and more, until you end up sitting there in your cubicle with your eyes bugging out like a fucking nutter and clutching at your chest every five seconds, ’cos you think you’re about to have a heart attack. That ain’t cheating at life—that’s fast-tracking yourself to an early death. Personally, I have a genuine case of ADD, but I give my Adderall to my assistant Tony, otherwise I’d be pouring the stuff in my coffee and sprinkling it on my cornflakes. The fact that you’re even writing to me about this suggests you know you’ve got a problem.

Dear Dr. Ozzy:

I suspect that my brother has started to take cocaine when he goes out clubbing at the weekend. I’m terribly worried about him. What are the risks involved?

You’re right to worry. When you start taking heavy-duty amounts of cocaine, this white gunk starts to trickle down the back of your throat, and you find yourself doing that phlegm-clearing thing all the time: like a sniff, but deeper and gunkier. And that puts a lot of stress on your epiglottis, or “clack,” as I’ve always called it. When I was doing a lot of coke in the 1970s, I was clearing away phlegm so often, I ended up tearing my clack in half. I was lying in bed at the time, and I just felt it flop down inside the back of my throat. Then it swelled up to the size of a golf ball and I had to go to the doc and explain myself. Luckily he had some pills for it—but I was so paranoid from the coke, I thought I’d never sing again. So as much fun as your brother might be having now, Susan, I’d advise him to stop while he’s ahead, ’cos a coke habit never ends well.