Trust Me, I'm Dr Ozzy

by Ozzy Osbourne

  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.

  “Marcus,” California

  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.

  Maddy, Cambridge

  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.

  Dear Dr. Ozzy,

  I work at a bank and my boss urinates with the door open. It makes me very uncomfortable. What can I do?

  Anonymous

  Bakersfield, California

  To be fair to your boss, when men get the call of nature, it’s a very powerful urge. Our brains aren’t set up to think about all the other stuff involved, like doors, seat lids . . or if the wall we’re about to use is part of an important historic monument like the Alamo (I had no idea). Personally, I’m impressed the guy’s even making it to the bathroom. If I was stuck in a bank all day, I’d get so fucking bored, I’d be pissing out of the window, trying to hit people standing at the cash machine outside. So I really think you should give the guy a break. Better yet, next time he empties his bladder in full view of his staff, get your colleagues to give him a round of applause and a score out of ten.

  Dear Dr. Ozzy:

  My best friend is being bullied, and he’s now very depressed—he hasn’t been at school for the past two weeks. I wish I could help, but we’re in different grades (if don’t see the bullying taking place, I can’t tell a teacher). What should I do?

  David, Boston

  Tell his parents. You must tell his parents. Bullying is a terrible thing, and has fucked up a lot of people’s lives. It’s all very well to say people should just put up with it—or that it makes you stronger—if it ain’t your head being flushed down the toilet on a daily basis. My bet is that if you tell this kid’s folks, they’ll be round the school in no time to sort it out. Do it now before it goes too far and something tragic happens, or you’ll never forgive yourself.

  Dear Dr. Ozzy:

  My friends tell me I’m incredibly tight-fisted. Personally, I don’t think this is fair: I just like to keep track of my spending and try to avoid throwing my heard-earned cash away. Should I listen to them? Should these people even really be my friends?

  Jaycee, Surrey

  There’s a world of difference between “careful” and “tight as a duck’s arse.” I remember when I used to own a wine bar and restaurant—“Osbourne’s” in Newport, Shropshire—there was a bloke who was so cheap, he’d come in and count his fucking peas. Literally. He’d tap me on the shoulder and go, “How come I got seven peas and my wife got twelve?” Then there’s the kind of tightwad who claims to be on a diet when it comes to ordering food, but then scavenges from everyone else’s plates. The “See Food” diet, as I always call it. But anyway, back to your question: the fact is, if your friends are saying they’re offended by your behaviour, chances are you’re tighter than Elvis Presley’s spandex. So it can’t hurt to dig deep for a while, just to prove ’em wrong.

  Dear Dr. Ozzy:

  Help! I just sent a long and emotional e-mail about how much I hate my job to my best friend in Sweden, only I accidentally (don’t ask how) copied my boss. What should I do?

  Margaret, New York

  Start looking for a new job.

  Dear Dr. Ozzy:

  I know you’re supposed to make eye contact when talking to new people, but how far do you take it—the occasional glance (if so, how many seconds?) or a continuous full-lock?

  Ken, Woking

  It ain’t a full-lock and it ain’t a glance—it’s something in-between. But it’s very important to get it right, ’cos it’s not comfortable being around people who can’t look you in the eye when they’re having a conversation. They seem dodgy. Whatever you do, though, don’t stare—if your eyes are bugging out like you’re some kind of nutter, that ain’t cool. To me, it’s all about giving off a warm vibe; making others feel at ease. Maybe if you stop counting how many seconds there are between every blink, it’ll come naturally.

  Dear Dr. Ozzy:

  My colleague (the next cubicle over) has terrible body odour. How can I break the news to him gently—or is there a way of dealing with the smell without having to confront him?

  Marie, Stoke on Trent

  Fuck I take a shower ever day, so it pisses me off when other people don’t give their friends and colleagues the same courtesy. Unfortunately, though, there’s no painless answer to your problem. You could move cubicles, I suppose. Or put an anonymous gift of deodorant on his desk. But the best solution is to confront him—in a nice way. Say, “Next time you’re in the bath, why don’t you try turning on the taps?”

  Dear Dr. Ozzy,

  Excuse my French, but my boss is an arsehole. His idea of management is to boast about every pathetic little thing he does while belittling everyone else’s achievements. How can I get him to change his ways?

  Sarah, Stoke

  Why not get together with your colleagues who feel the same way and have an intervention? Or, if it’s a bigger company, complain to human resources (or whatever they call it). Failing that, leave. That’s what I used to do when I hated a job. Either that, or I behaved so badly—like stealing cows’ eyeballs from the slaughterhouse where I worked and putting them in girls’ drinks at the pub across the road—they kicked me out. Jobs are harder to find these days, of course, so that might not be a good idea. Unfortunately, that also makes idiots like your boss think they’re God.

  Try not to give him the pleasure.

  Dear Dr. Ozzy:

  A friend of mine visited my house the other day when I was recovering from a case of winter sniffles. When he came down with his own cold a few days after, he sent me an angry e-mail telling me that I should have warned him I had germs. Is this fair?

  Neil, Stevenage

  No. How does this guy know where he got the cold from, anyway? And even if you did give it to him, what’s everyone supposed to do, walk around in germ-sealed plastic bags wearing face masks and rubber gloves all the time? Give me a break.

  Dear Ozzy:

  I play football after work with my colleagues, and last week my boss broke my ankle with a dirty tackle. I’m furious with him, and want revenge—but I don’t want to get fired. Any ideas?

  Guglielmo, Rome

  Two words, Guglielmo: shit happens. If you’re gonna kick a ball around, you’ve got to accept that some people’s personalities change beyond recognition when scoring goals is involved. I learned that lesson years ago, when I played on my local pub team every Sunday morning. Well, I say “played,” but it was r
eally just an excuse to air my brain out after the night before. I soon realised that the blokes who were perfectly normal and friendly while having a few beers turned into wild fucking animals on the field. I mean, they just forgot who they were, to the point where they lost all self-respect… then five minutes later they were back down the pub, as nice as you like again. So you should forget about revenge, ’cos you can’t live your life trying get back at people for things you should have seen coming in the first place. Stop playing if it really bothers you. Otherwise get back on the field and try to run a bit faster next time.

  Dear Dr. Ozzy:

  My neighbour plays his Elton John record collection at full-blast every Sunday morning—the one day of the week when I get to sleep in. No offense to Sir Elton (I know he’s a friend of yours) but what can I do to banish “Rocket Man” from my life for good?

  Adriana, Bergamo, Italy

  Ask him nicely to turn it down, and if that doesn’t work, buy some earplugs—unless you want to start a feud. Also, let’s face it: the situation could be worse. He could be playing Justin Bieber.

  DR. OZZY’S INCREDIBLY HELPFUL TIPS—

  Your Boss Is an Arsehole If…

  He makes himself Employee of the Month. Every month.

  He docks your salary for the day you take off to go to your mum’s funeral.

  He uses the stopwatch on his iPhone to time your toilet breaks.

  He thinks the stopwatch on his iPhone is a “pretty cool app.” But not as cool as “Pull My Finger”—which he plays with in his office while everyone else is working their butts off.

  He gets you wasted after work, then shaves off your eyebrows when you pass out. Oh, hang on a minute… that was me…

  He gives you a choice between working at the weekend or giving him a blowjob.

  He promotes people based on how many times they don’t work at the weekend.

  At a team-bonding event, he thinks it’s hilarious to shoot a paintball at your lovesack.

  Dear Dr. Ozzy:

  How do you cope with people who plot against you, but are as nice as pie to your face?

  David, Woking

  Number one: don’t ever work in TV, ’cos the industry is crawling with back-stabber types. Number two: you don’t have to “cope” with them—just avoid them like the plague. Unless you’re wearing handcuffs or have been slammed in a prison cell, you don’t have to be in anyone’s company (although I know it can be difficult with co-workers and bosses). I mean, if someone has B.O., you don’t choose to sit next to them, do you? It’s same with people who have toxic personalities. If it’s an option, get up and walk away.

  Dear Dr. Ozzy:

  Is it just me, or is it basically impossible for men to make new friends when they’re married with kids, given that the pub is now out of bounds (at least on a regular basis)?

  Chaz, Isle of Wight

  That’s why God invented golf and fishing. Both of these things let men get out of the house and socialise with each other without getting a stage-five bollocking the next day. The trouble is, if you don’t have the patience for that stuff—I certainly don’t—there ain’t many other options. And it’s not as if someone like me can go out for the occasional quiet pint, either. One whiff of the old devil’s brew, and the next thing you know it’s 4 a.m., I’m blasted to kingdom come, and trying to drive my car through the front door. So for me the last refuge has always been the toilet. You might not make any new friends in there, but when the kids are rioting and the wife’s on your case, I highly recommend it as a way of taking a quick break.

  Dear Dr. Ozzy:

  Is it worth staying in touch with old friends—from high school, etc.—when you no longer have anything in common. Or is it better and more honest to just make a clean break?

  Julian, Newport

  Move on. The fact is, you’re a different person now than when you were a kid, so unless your old classmates have gone into the same kind of job or whatever, it’s pointless going through the awkwardness of meeting up for a beer once every ten years. Having said that, it’s sometimes interesting to see what became of the dickheads at school. I remember this one guy: he always wore the uniform (even though you didn’t have to), always did his homework on time, always came top of everything. Meanwhile, I was the prankster, thief, and school goldfish murderer. He ended up being a bus inspector. I became a rock star. Sometimes I have a good old chuckle about that.

  Dear Dr. Ozzy:

  As a boss, I’m struggling to deal with a worker who’s not a “team player.” Short of firing him, which seems a bit excessive, what’s the best way to manage such a difficult personality? I’m sure you have plenty of experience as the leader of a rock band.

  David, Surrey

  I have a rule in my band: if there’s something you don’t like about your job, or if you’ve been offered a better gig somewhere else, all I ask is for a bit of notice before you leave. And it’s the same in reverse. So if I were you, I’d have a chat with this guy, tell him it ain’t working out, and suggest he finds a new job by the end of the year. On the other hand, if he’s doing excellent work and the only problem is that you don’t like him, I’d suggest you just deal with it, ’cos talented people are hard to find, and your employees don’t have to be your friends. If no-one else at your company likes him, either, then that’s a different matter, ’cos he’ll be affecting morale. In that case he has to go.

  Dr. Ozzy’s Trivia Quiz: Personal Skills

  Find the answers—and tote up your score— here

  1. How do you say hello to close friend in Northern Mozambique?

  a) Kiss them on the nose

  b) Shake your fist at head level and shout, “Wooshay! Wooshay!”

  c) Clap three times

  2. According to the etiquette people at Debrett’s, what shouldn’t you “glance longingly” at during dinner?

  a) The best-looking person at the table

  b) Your wife’s tits

  c) Your iPhone

  3. How many friends does the average person have on Facebook?

  a) 130

  b) 95

  c) 260

  4. What did a New Zealand bank manager do in 2006 that made him Worst Boss of the Year?

  a) Ordered female tellers to show at least three inches of cleavage

  b) Had his staff tied up and robbed

  c) Banned toilet breaks during office hours

  5. When the workers at a Lithuanian-owned car dealership in Atlanta, USA, asked for a raise, what did the boss do?

  a) Shoot them

  b) Kill himself

  c) Sue them for emotional distress

  The Jelly Between Your Ears

  9

  It Ain’t Easy, Being Mental

  Most of us spend more time washing the dishes than we do taking care of our mental health. It’s unbelievable, when you think about it, ’cos of all the things that can go wrong with us, “not feeling yourself” is right up there with the worst. It ain’t exactly rare, either. According to real doctors*, one in four people come down with some kind of major freak-out at some point in their lives. The trouble is, even today, people don’t like to talk about it. I mean, when you go to work in the morning and the boss says, “How are you?” no-one wants to go, “Oh, I’m feeling a bit mentally ill today, actually.” You’d end up in a padded room, wearing pyjamas with no fucking sleeves.

  Luckily, you can always come to Dr. Ozzy for advice. I’ve been through just about everything you can imagine: depression, panic attacks, drug abuse, cries for help, alcohol abuse, obsessive compulsive disorder… you name it, man. And the one thing I’ve learned: no matter how much you don’t want to, you’ve gotta talk about it. Go to your GP. See a therapist. Confide in friends (although it’s usually better to find someone who ain’t biased). If you keep your problems bottled up instead, they’ll only get worse over time. Having said all that, if you grew up in England when I did, the whole idea of talking about anything is a fucking joke. If someone had any k
ind of anxiety or depression when I was a kid, it was called a “nervous breakdown”—and people only ever mentioned it in hushed voices, behind closed doors. But times have changed. Treatments have improved. And people are beginning to realise that everyone has issues, and everyone needs to get them out in the open if they want to move on. So that’s what this chapter is about: coming clean, clearing the air, and hopefully taking the first step towards getting real help from someone who ain’t me.

  Dear Dr. Ozzy:

  My friends have started to tell me that I’m way too paranoid—about my boss, my girlfriend, the government… you name it. Isn’t a bit of paranoia good for you, though?

  Jamie, New York

  No. Being paranoid’s a terrible way to live. For example: every so often when I get on a plane, I convince myself that it’s doomed, and that everyone’s gonna die. So I spend the whole twelve hours in the air sweating and trying to stop my heart jumping out of my ribcage… which is a total waste of time, ’cos my panic attack ain’t exactly gonna stop a bomb going off, or the autopilot breaking down. I mean, I suppose you could argue that being a worrier makes you more likely to live longer, but if you’re feeling paranoid 24/7, what kind of life are you living anyway? It ain’t comfortable for the people around you, either—especially not if you’re giving your girlfriend the Gestapo treatment every time she comes home. Listen to your mates and chill out, man.

  Dear Dr. Ozzy:

  Can you finally explain why is it so bloody hard for men to cry?

  Abigail, Wexham

  It’s not that it’s hard, it’s just that we don’t particularly enjoy it. I mean, yeah, every now and again—like once a decade—a good old cry clears the air. But it ain’t something your average bloke wants to do on a regular basis, ’cos it’s exhausting. Women, on the other hand, can’t seem to get enough of it. For example: my wife insists on going to see these awful films—“slurpies,” I call ’em—where you spend the whole time feeling like your gran’s just died. I can still remember the last one I was dragged to: The Notebook. By the time the credits rolled, I was just about having a nervous breakdown—then I thought to myself, “Why am I sitting here, in darkened room, feeling all unnecessarily choked up?” When I looked over at Sharon, she was even more puffy-faced and snotty than I was. Then she goes, “Oooh, wasn’t that brilliant, Ozzy?” At moments like that, I think that men and women might as well be from different universes.