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Tag: linked news

Gives a whole new meaning to food porn.

Posted on February 8, 2011 By admin

I’d be curious to see that. Then again, I’m a pervert :)

‘Naked chef’ to debut on Hong Kong adult channel

A Hong Kong adult channel is set to debut a cooking show headlined by a nude host who will prepare Cantonese dishes wearing a transparent apron — an apparent bid to encourage more men to cook. Host Flora Cheung will start each 30-minute show shopping for fresh ingredients in the city’s famous wet markets, undressing once she is back in the privacy of her studio kitchen, the South China Morning Post reported.

Cheung, who admits she has never worked in a restaurant kitchen, said she hopes the risque show will draw more men into the kitchen. The first episode is set to air later this month. “I have always liked cooking and I thought I should share (the) enjoyment with more people,” the 26-year-old told the Post. “Most men don’t like to cook, but I want to get them interested… From shopping to cooking — it’s the whole shebang,” Cheung added.

The host promised that her tailor-made, transparent apron won’t leave much to the imagination. “It covers pretty much everything but hides nothing,” she was quoted as saying.

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Inconvenient truths about our evolution?

Posted on December 1, 2010 By admin

From: The Independent.

Why do beautiful people have more daughters? Because beauty is more important for a woman than a man, according to evolutionary psychologist Satoshi Kanazawa. Why are most suicide bombers Muslim? Because they don’t get enough sex. Why are liberals more intelligent than conservatives? Because liberalism is “evolutionarily novel.” The London School of Economics researcher and author of Ten Politically Incorrect Truths about Human Nature is accustomed to defending his provocative assertions against outraged critics.

He acknowledges that some of his ideas may seem “immoral, contrary to our ideals or offensive”. But he insists they are true and supported by scientific evidence that he has continued to collect since his book was published in 2007. “Like it or not, human nature is simply not politically correct,” he says.

Now, in a study to be published in Reproductive Sciences, he has adduced new evidence for what he describes as one of the most celebrated principles in evolutionary biology which explains why attractive people have more female children. So how does the research stack up?

1 Beautiful people have more daughters

Known as the Trivers-Willard hypothesis this states that if parents have any traits they can pass on to their children and that will be better for one sex than the other, they they will have more children of that sex. A man’s value as a mate is largely determined in evolutionary terms by his wealth, status and power, according to Dr Kanazawa, whereas a woman’s is largely determined by her youth and physical attractiveness.

“Physical attractiveness, while a universally positive quality, contributes even more to women’s reproductive success than to men’s. The hypothesis would therefore predict that physically attractive parents should have more daughters than sons,” Dr Kanazawa writes.

Figures from the 1958 National Child Development Study of 17,000 babies who were rated for attractiveness by their teachers at age 7 and were asked at age 45 for the age and sex of their babies bears this out. The unattractive children were more likely to have sons, according to the Reproductive Sciences study.

2 Liberals are more intelligent than conservatives

A study by Dr Kanazawa, published in Social Science Quarterly in March, based on the same data showed that young adults who identified themselves as “very liberal” had an average IQ of 106 while those who identified themselves as “very conservative” had an average IQ of 95.

“The ability to think and reason endowed our ancestors with advantages in solving evolutionarily novel problems for which they did not have innate solutions. As a result, more intelligent people are more likely to recognise and understand such novel entities and situations than less intelligent people, and some of these entities and situations are preferences, values, and lifestyles,” Dr Kanazawa said.

Humans are evolutionarily designed to be conservative, caring mostly about their family and friends. Being liberal and caring about an indefinite number of genetically unrelated strangers is evolutionarily novel. So more intelligent children may be more likely to grow up to be liberals.

3 Most suicide bombers are Muslim

Suicide missions are not always religiously motivated. But when religion is involved it is always Muslim, Dr Kanazawa says.

Why? The surprising answer is that it may have nothing to do with Islam or politics, culture or race. Rather, it has to do with sex, or in this case the absence of sex.

Writing in Psychology Today, Dr Kanazawa said the distinguishing feature of Islam was that it tolerated polygyny – men taking two or more wives at the same time. By allowing some men to monopolise all women other men were left out. The prospect of 72 virgins waiting in heaven for any martyr to Islam then created a potent cocktail. “It is the combination of polygyny and the promise of a large harem of virgins in heaven that motivates many young Muslim suicide bombers,” he says.

4 Men like blonde bombshells (and women want to look like them)

Blonde hair is unique in that it changes dramatically with age, Dr Kanazawa says. Typically, young girls with light blonde hair become women with brown hair. So blonde hair is a signal of youth and men who attempt to mate with blondes are unconsciously seeking younger (and hence healthier and more fecund) women.

5 Humans are naturally polygamous

Polyandry (one woman married to more than one man) is rare but polygyny has been widely practised throughout most of history.

In societies where rich men are much richer than poor men, women and their children are better off having a share of the few wealthy men than having an entire poor man to themselves. In practice, most industrial societies tend to be monogamous because men tend to be more equal in their resources than their ancestors in medieval times.

6 Having sons reduces the likelihood of divorce

A man’s value as a mate is largely determined by his wealth, status and power whereas a woman’s comes mainly from her youth and physical attractiveness. A father is important to his son in ensuring he inherits wealth status and power but he can do little to keep his daughter youthful or beautiful. His continued presence in the family is important to the son but not as crucial to his daughter.

7 What creative geniuses have in common with criminals

The tendency to commit crimes peaks in adolescence and then rapidly declines. But this curve is not limited to crime – it is also evident in every quantifiable human behaviour that is seen by potential mates and costly (not affordable by all sexual competitors). In the competition for mates men may act violently or they may express their competitiveness through their creative activities.

8 The myth of the male mid-life crisis

Many middle aged men go through a mid-life crisis but not because they are middle aged. It is because their wives are. Dr Kanazawa says: “From the evolutionary psychologist’s perspective, a man’s midlife crisis is precipitated by his wife’s imminent menopause and end of her reproductive career and thus his renewed need to attract younger women.”

9 It’s natural for male politicians to risk everything for an affair

Powerful men have always married monogamously but mated polygynously. Men strive to attain political power, consciously or unconsciously, in order to have reproductive access to a large number of women.

10 Men sexually harass women because they are not sexist

Men always subjected each other to abusive, intimidating and degrading treatment at work. It is part of their reaction to competitive situations. Men are not treating women differently when they harass them. They do it because they are not discriminating, Dr Kanazawa says.

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The drops of god

Posted on September 30, 2010 By admin

Japanese wine cartoon makes Bordeaux grower famous

SAINT-CIBARD, France – Chateau owner Jean-Pierre Amoreau is a celebrity in Japan — a privilege he owes to a wine-obsessed cartoon he had never heard of until diehard fans started calling him at home.

Amoreau, owner of the Puy Chateau near the village of Saint-Cibard in southwestern France, said he did not know what to think last year when he started getting calls from Japanese buyers who wanted to buy his 2003 growth bottles at any cost. His agent explained the reason for the calls: a television show broadcast in Japan. Named “The Drops of God,” it is a cartoon about wine that has won a passionate following in Japan and has the peculiar trait of referring mainly to real bottles.

It tells the story of a famous oenologist who, upon his death, bequeaths a vast wine cellar to one of his two sons on the condition he can solve 12 riddles about 12 bottles. After completing the challenge, the heir has to track down a 13th bottle — the ultimate, perfect bottle of wine — known as the “Drops of God.”

“For the last episode … millions of Japanese people were in front of their TVs about to find out the name of the chateau which Tadashi Agi thought produced the best wine of thousands he had tasted the world over,” Amoreau said. The cartoon gave birth to a comic book that boosted the success of his wine with Japanese consumers. “Today we are the best-known wine-makers in Japan,” he added.

The owner of the 17th century estate is the 14th generation of wine-makers in his family, as well as being a firm believer in chemical-free agriculture in the tradition of his ancestors who banned chemicals in the 1930s.

Despite the frenzy surrounding the 2003 bottle named in “The Drops of God,” Amoreau kept the 18 euro ($24) price tag even when bottles were selling in Japan for 1,000 euros. “We stopped selling the 2003 until the excitement had died down to avoid penalizing our regular customers,” he said.

Thanks to the cartoon, Chateau Le Puy gained access to lucrative Asian markets in China as well as Taiwan and South Korea. About 80 percent of the 120,000 bottles produced at Saint-Cibard are destined for export. Among the other Bordeaux vineyards to have benefited from a cameo appearance in the cartoon are Chateau Calon-Segur, Saint Estephe, Chateau Palmer, Margaux and Chateau Poupille. Philippe Carille, owner of the Poupille vineyard, is still enjoying the windfall, three years after his wine was mentioned in the fourth volume of the series.

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Leaving your mark, indeed

Posted on September 28, 2010 By admin

This isn’t some fancy Photoshop trick, these are real human footprints ingrained in a hardwood floor.

70 year-old Buddhist monk Hua Chi has been praying in the same spot at his temple in Tongren, China for over 20 years. His footprints, which are up to 1.2 inches deep in some areas, are the result of performing his prayers up to 3000 times a day. Now that he is 70, he says that he has greatly reduced his quantity of prayers to 1,000 times each day.

The footprints have become a source of inspiration to younger monks at the temple. “Every day I come here and every day I look at the piece of wood, and it has inspired me to continue to make the footprints myself,” Genden Darji, a 29 year-old monk in the monastery, notes.

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In a perfect world, I’d be a stilton

Posted on September 23, 2010September 23, 2010 By admin

Anthony Bourdain: From rebel chef to doting dad

The bad boy chef is now an ex-cook who tells stories.

Anthony Bourdain reluctantly embraces the label at first, saying “you can call me anything you want, I’m just glad that anybody cares.” But then he wavers. That’s why he named his new book Medium Raw: A Bloody Valentine to the World of Food and the People Who Cook.

“It’s a deliberate non sequitur — you can’t be both medium and raw,” Bourdain says Tuesday in Toronto. “I’m not a chef. I’m not a writer. I’m not the angry, snarky — what is it? — bad boy of cuisine. I’m somewhere else now. The book is about second-guessing myself, and conflicting emotions and elements that don’t exactly fit together for me.”

It has been a decade since Kitchen Confidential: Adventures in the Culinary Underbelly — which he calls “that obnoxious but wildly successful memoir” — changed the trajectory of Bourdain’s life.

It got him A Cook’s Tour (the book and Food Network show), followed by Anthony Bourdain: No Reservations on the Travel Channel and now Medium Raw (his 10th book). It got him out of the kitchen after 28 years of hard labour. It hastened the breakup of his first marriage, which paved the way for his second marriage and fatherhood.

That’s right. At 54 Bourdain is the blissed-out father to 3-1/2-year-old Ariane, who just started pre-kindergarten.

“I had a top-of-the-line Bugaboo (stroller) — pink,” admits an animated Bourdain during an interview at Mercury Espresso Bar in Leslieville. “I pushed it with pride. And I will tell you, with pride, that I was the star pupil in my Lamaze class. I’ve totally gone over to the warm, fuzzy side.”

Maybe he dabbles in the fuzzy side, but the lanky New Yorker still dresses in black (jeans, T-shirt and blazer) and still exclaims “nice choice” when the coffee shop blasts a song by the Stooges.

In Medium Raw, the former heroin addict admits to owning a couple of suits. He wears one of them on the cover, though it’s offset by the pockmarked brick wall behind him, the knife in his hand and the wedding band on his finger.

“I certainly didn’t want to wear a chef’s coat,” says Bourdain. “(The suit is) the uniform of my traditional enemy, who I’ve become. I just thought it was the opposite of a working hero, which I am not.”

Okay, so he lives on the Upper East Side, feeds his daughter organic food, and calls himself a “jaded, overprivileged foodie.”

He slings that at himself before anyone else has a chance.

“I think it would be hideously dishonest to not remind people of that constantly.”

Still, when given the chance to act like a world-weary foodie with an exacting coffee order, he’s downright casual, requesting only “some jumbo-sized latte with sugar.”

But speaking of jaded, Bourdain — who’s giving a public talk Wednesday night at Massey Hall — admits Monday’s sold-out show in Houston didn’t go so well because the audience simply knew too much.

“Three minutes into it, I realized they’d heard it all, between interviews, articles, blogs and the books. It was an awful moment for me. This audience was very wired in and this is the world we live in now. If you write about food too long, you run out of adjectives and, more importantly, you lose the sense of wonder. It’s a terrible thing.”

China, Bourdain figures, is the next food frontier. Even if he devotes the rest of his eating life to figuring it out, he expects to “still die knowing relatively nothing.”

Bourdain’s sense of wonder makes multiple appearances during the interview.

He worries about being that idiot who tires of foie gras and truffles, and then slides into a spirited discussion about how he and his chef friends love yakitori – Japanese, charcoal-grilled chicken parts.

Then there’s the care and feeding of his daughter. She gets hot dogs (organic), grilled cheese and pasta with butter, but she’s also well-travelled (already) and exposed to everything.

“She likes pecorino (cheese), anchovies, sardines, tuna, olives and risotto,” says Bourdain, who never forces her to eat what’s put in front of her. “And she loves raw oysters.”

Bourdain hasn’t cooked professionally for over a decade, and admits to eating out with chef friends and ordering in a lot like most New Yorkers. When he cooks at home, it’s “in one pot” and it’s probably stew, beef bourguignon, steak, calf’s liver, pasta or risotto.

Still, in Medium Raw, Bourdain advocates cooking at home whenever possible and calls basic cooking skills a virtue that should be taught as soon a child can be trusted with a knife.

It has been eight years since Bourdain visited Toronto. Back then, we got 90 minutes together for Vietnamese iced coffee, Salvadoran pupusas and Chilean corn pie in Chinatown and Kensington Market, but came up empty on his search for raw milk Canadian cheese.

This time I bring four Canadian cheeses, including two raw ones, for our 45-minute coffee interview.

Guidi predicts he’ll go for the Bleu D’Elizabeth from Quebec, “because big personalities like big blues.” She’s right.

“If I were to be a cheese it would be a really funky, slightly overripe blue cheese,” says Bourdain, breaking apart a baguette by hand and diving into the cheese. “In a perfect world, I’d be a Stilton.”

Source: TheStar.com

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First the was the noodle PhD, now there is the sausage master!

Posted on August 19, 2010 By admin

German sausage lovers can now study for a master’s degree in their favourite dish. Students learn how to appreciate the white sausage at the Sausage Academy in Neumarkt, set up by Norbert Wittman. There are also diploma courses covering which lagers, mustards and types of music go best with different varieties of sausage. So far 1,300 students have gained the diploma.

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Words rejected by the Oxford dictionary

Posted on August 6, 2010 By admin

Accordionated – being able to drive and refold a road map at the same time

Blogish – a variety of English that uses a large number of initialisms, frequently used on blogs

Dunandunate – the overuse of a word or phrase that has recently been added to your own vocabulary

Earworm – a catchy tune that frequently gets stuck in your head

Freegan – someone who rejects consumerism, usually by eating discarded food

Fumb – your large toe

Furgle – to feel in a pocket or bag for a small object such as a coin or key

Griefer – someone who spends their online time harassing others

Headset jockey – a telephone call centre worker

Museum head – feeling mentally exhausted and no longer able to take in information; Usually following a trip to a museum

Nonversation – a worthless conversation, wherein nothing is explained or otherwise Elaborated upon

Optotoxical – a look that could kill, normally from a parent or spouse

Peppier – a waiter whose sole job is to offer diners ground pepper, usually from a large pepper mill

Percuperate – to prepare for the possibility of being ill

Polkadodge – the dance that occurs when two people attempt to pass each other but move in the same direction

Pregreening – to creep forwards while waiting for a red light to change

Smushables – items that must be pack at the top of a bag to avoid being squashed

Stealth-geek – someone who hides their nerdy interests while maintaining a normal outward appearance

Vidiot – someone who is inept at the act of programming video recording equipment

Whinese – a term for the language spoken by children on lengthy trips

Wibble – the trembling of the lower lip just shy of actually crying

Wikism – a piece of information that claims to be true but is wildly inaccurate

Source: The Telegraph

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A PhD in noodles? Kick-ass, Japan!

Posted on July 23, 2010 By admin

Food expert holds doctorate in noodle lore

OSAKA–A food expert, who has re-created dishes enjoyed by the nobility in the Nara period (710-784), was so taken with the 1,300-year history of noodles in this country that he wrote a book about it. “I simply wondered why ramen and soba noodles always rank high in Japanese favorite food surveys,” Ayao Okumura, 72, said.

His book, “Nihon men-shoku-bunka no 1,300-nen” (1,300 years of noodle culture in Japan), won the Tsuji Shizuo Shokubunka-sho food culture prize in spring. The book was the culmination of two years of fieldwork. Although he is a well-known expert in traditional foods, Okumura believes a person can always learn something, no matter how old he or she is. So he entered Mimasaka University’s graduate school in Okayama Prefecture shortly before turning 70 and chose noodles for his doctoral thesis.

He sampled noodles not only in Japan but also overseas, such as in Italy and China, and learned various ways to cook them. He sometimes ate noodles six times a day, raising his blood sugar level so high that he wound up in a hospital. In his sickbed, Okumura read 45 books from the Kamakura period (1192-1333) and later compiled a paper based on the books.

He began his culinary career at a relative’s delicatessen and studied under food culture giant Osamu Shinoda (1899-1978), who always said, “Visit the places where dishes originate.” Okumura devoted himself to studying noodles at his own research kitchen in Nara. “The reason Japanese love noodles is because of the way we cook and eat them,” Okumura said. “Now I’d like to study the aesthetics of color and the presentation of food.”

Source: Daily Yomiuri

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Just one-third?

Posted on June 17, 2010 By admin

1/3? really? I was expecting more…

Pornography makes up 37 per cent of the total number of Web pages online, according to a new study published by Optenet. According to the report, which looked at a representative sample of around four million extracted URLs, adult content on the Internet increased by 17 per cent in the first quarter of 2010, as compared to the same period in 2009.

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Dr. Ozzie will see you now

Posted on June 8, 2010June 8, 2010 By admin

Emphasis mine. This is why I have a soft spot for Ozzie.

The wisdom of Oz

From The Sunday Times – June 6, 2010

Let me ask you a question, Mr Osbourne,” a doctor in America once said to me, after I’d listed all the heavy-duty substances I’d been abusing since the 1960s.

“All right,” I said. “Go ahead.”

The doctor put down his notebook, loosened his tie a bit, and let out this long, weary sigh.

“Why are you still alive?”

I’ve often wondered the same thing myself. By all accounts I’m a medical miracle. When I die, I should donate my body to the Natural History Museum. It’s all very well going on a bender for a couple of days — but mine went on for 40 years. At one point I was knocking back four bottles of cognac a day, blacking out, coming to again, and carrying on. While filming The Osbournes I was also shoving 42 types of prescription medication down my neck, morning, noon and night — and that was before all the dope I was smoking in my “safe” room, away from the cameras. Meanwhile, I used to get through cigars like they were cigarettes. I’d even smoke them in bed.

“Do you mind?” I’d ask Sharon, as I lit up another Cuban the size of Red October.

“Oh no, please, go ahead,” she’d say, before whacking me with Good Housekeeping.

Then there are all the other things I’ve managed to not die from during my rock’n’roll career: like being hit by a plane (it crashed into my tour bus when I was fast asleep with Sharon in the back); or the time I got a false-positive HIV test; or the time when they told me I “probably” had Parkinson’s disease (they were wrong — it turned out to be a rare genetic condition, a Parkinsonian-like tremor). I was even committed to a mental asylum for a while. “Do you masturbate, Mr Osbourne?” was the first thing they asked me. “I’m here for my head, not my dick!” I replied.

And then there was the rabies treatment I had to go through after eating a bat — which you might have heard about once or twice. All I want to say is that I thought it was a rubber toy, swear on my 17 dogs’ lives.

Oh, and yeah, I’ve been dead twice: it happened (so I’m told) while I was in a chemically induced coma after I broke my neck in a quad-bike accident in 2003. I’ve got more metal screws in me now than in an Ikea flatpack thanks to the doctors and nurses at the NHS.

So, as you can imagine, when The Sunday Times Magazine asked me to be its new health-advice columnist — Dr Ozzy, as I’ll be known from now on — I thought they were taking the piss, to be honest with you. But then I thought about it for a while, and it makes perfect sense: I’ve seen literally thousands of doctors over my lifetime, and spent well over £1m on them, to the point where I sometimes think I know more about being a doctor than doctors do.

And it’s not just because of the lifestyle I’ve pursued. I also happen to be the world’s worst hypochondriac. I’ll catch a disease off the telly, me. Being ill is like a hobby. I’ve even started to diagnose my own diseases, thanks to Google (or I should say thanks to my assistant Tony, because I’m not exactly Steve Jobs when it comes to computers).

Understandably, the question I always get is: “If you’re such a hypochondriac, Ozzy, how could you have taken all those drugs?” But the thing is, when you have an addictive personality like mine, you never think anything bad’s gonna happen. It’s like: “Oh, well, I didn’t do as much as so-and-so — I didn’t drink as much as him, didn’t do as much coke.”

Now, that might be fine in theory, but in my case the so-and-so was usually a certified lunatic like John Bonham or Tommy Lee, which meant they’d put enough up their nose to march the Bolivian army to the moon and back. Another thing I’d always tell myself was: “Oh, a doctor gave me the drugs, and he must know what he’s doing — mustn’t he?” But that was ignoring the fact that I’d administered the stuff myself. And if there’s one thing I’m not, it’s a qualified medical professional.

Which explains all the near misses I’ve had: overdoses, seizures, you name it. Most of the time I blamed it on my dyslexia: “Oh, I thought it said 24 pills every two hours, not two pills every 24 hours.”

The funny thing is, to my friends I’ve been Dr Ozzy for years — mainly because I used to be like a walking pharmacy. I remember back in the 1980s, when a friend came to me with a leg ache. I went to get my “special” suitcase, pulled out a pill the size of a golf ball and said: “Here, take this.” It was ibuprofen, before you could buy it over the counter in the UK. He came back a few hours later and said: “Dr Ozzy, you cured me!” The only problem was, I gave him 800mg — enough to cure an obese elephant. It knocked the bloke out for a month. That was in the old days, of course, before lawsuits were invented. I’d never do that now. Honest to God.

But it’s not just medication I’ve given to my friends. As strange as it sounds, a lot of people have asked me for family advice, especially in recent years. I suppose it’s because they saw me raising Jack and Kelly during The Osbournes, and they think I’m like the Bill Cosby of the undead or something. They ask me stuff like “How do I bring up the subject of sex with my kids?” or “How do I talk to them about drugs?”

I’m happy to help the best I can. The trouble is, when I talked to my kids about drugs, it was: “Can you give me some?” But I’ve become a better father since then, I like to think. I mean, during the worst days of my addiction, I wasn’t really a father at all, I was just another one of Sharon’s kids. But I’m a different person now: I keep fit, don’t smoke, don’t drink, don’t get high — or least not on anything but endorphins.

I enjoy my family more than I ever have before: not just my five amazing kids (two of them with my first wife, Thelma) but also my four grandkids. Plus, after nearly 30 years, my marriage to Sharon is going stronger than ever, so I guess I must be doing something right.

When you live full-time in California, as I’ve done for the past few years, you often feel people spend so much time trying to save their lives that they don’t live them. I mean, at the end of the day, we’re all going to die. So what’s the point of always worrying about your health?

For me, the decision to change my life wasn’t really about my health. It was about the fact that I wasn’t having fun any more. As I used to say, I’d put the “wreck” into recreation. I was on clonazepam, zolpidem, temazepam, chloral hydrate, alcohol, Percocet, codeine — and that was just for starters. But morphine was my favourite. I didn’t do it for very long, mind you, because Sharon would find me passed out on the floor with the dog licking my forehead, and she put a stop to it. And thank God she did: I’d have kicked the bucket a long time ago otherwise.

Funnily enough, it was the smoking that put me over the edge. I’m a singer, that’s how I earn a living, but I would get a sore throat then cough through a pack of Marlboros to the point where I couldn’t do gigs. It was ridiculous; the stupidest thing you could ever imagine. So the cigarettes were the first thing I quit, and that started the ball rolling. Now I take drugs only for real things, such as high cholesterol, depression or heartburn.

I can understand — sort of — if people think it’s more rock’n’roll to die young. But what really winds me up is when you hear: “Oh, my great-aunt Nelly smoked 80 fags a day and drank 16 pints of Guinness before bed every night, and she lived until she was 103.” I mean, yeah, that happens. My own gran lived until she was 99. But the odds aren’t on your side. Especially when you get to the grand old age of 61, like me.

Another thing that puts a bee up my arse is people who never get checkups, and never go to the doctor, even when they’re half-dead. I had my prostate checked just the other week, for example — I’m on a three-year plan for prostate and colon tests — and couldn’t believe how many blokes said to me: “Your prostate? What’s that?” I was like: “Look, chicks get breast cancer, and blokes get cancer of the prostate.” One guy even asked: “Where is it?” I told him, “Up your arse,” and he went: “How do they check that, then?” I said: “How do you think? It starts with a rubber glove and ends with your voice rising 10 octaves.”

My prostate guy here in Los Angeles says that every man over 50 will develop some kind of prostate problem as they get older, but only half will get tested. And yet nowadays you can cure prostate cancer if you get to it early enough. It’s the same with colon cancer. Mind you, I’m the first to admit that the preparation for the colon-cancer test isn’t exactly glamorous. They give you this horrible liquid to drink and then you have to crap through the eye of a needle until your backside is so clean, if you open your mouth you can see daylight at the other end. But it’s only because I got tested for colon cancer that my wife did the same — and her test came back positive. Thanks to that, they caught the cancer in time and her life was saved. So my first advice as Dr Ozzy will be: don’t be ignorant.

I haven’t always been a hypochondriac. When I was growing up in Aston, Birmingham, for example, our family GP was a guy called Dr Rosenfield, and I’d do anything to get out of an appointment with him — mainly because his receptionist was a woman with a full-on beard. I ain’t kidding you: a big, black, bushy beard. It freaked me out. She was like Captain Pugwash in a frock. And Dr Rosenfield’s surgery was so drab, you felt worse coming out than when you went in. Rosenfield himself wasn’t a bad guy, but he wasn’t exactly a comforting figure, either. I remember falling out of a tree one time when I was scrumping apples: I hit a branch on the way down, and my eye swelled up like a black balloon. When I got home my old man smacked me around the ear before sending me off to get my injury looked at — then Dr Rosenfield smacked me around the ear, too!

I rarely got any kind of proper medical care in those days, mind you. If one of the six Osbourne kids had an earache, they’d get a spoonful of hot chip fat down their earhole. And my gran would give us milk and mutton fat for croupy cough. As for my father, he had this tin in his shed. I don’t know what was in it, some kind of black greasy stuff, and if you got a boil on your neck he’d go: “I’ll get rid of that for yer, son.” And he’d slap it on there, and you’d be, like: “Not the black tin! Nooo!” But that’s all my folks could afford. Shelling out on zit cream from Boots wasn’t gonna happen when they could barely afford to get food on the table. My father was one of those people who’d never see a doctor. He’d never take a day off work at the GEC factory, either. He’d have to have been missing a limb to take a sickie; even then, he’d probably just hop into the factory like nothing had happened. I don’t think he got a single checkup right up until the end of his life — and by that time he was riddled with cancer. It was his prostate that gave up first. I don’t know why he’d avoided doctors, given that it was all free on the NHS, but it made me think the opposite way: if I go to the doctor now and there’s something wrong with me, they’ll catchit early and I’ll get to live another day. I mean, don’t get me wrong: I ain’t afraid of dying. Although it would be good to know where it’s gonna happen, so I can avoid going there?

Sometimes I think people in Britain don’t make enough use of the NHS because they’re too busy complaining about it. But Americans — who’ll queue up outside a sports arena for three days just to go to a free clinic — can’t believe the deal we get over here. I’ll never forget the first time I got an x-ray done in the US after my quad-bike crash. The doc came into the room, holding up my slide and whistling through his teeth. “How much did all that cost you, huh?” he asked, seeing all the rods and bolts holding my neck and back together. “A couple of mill?“ Actually, it was free,” I told him. “I had the accident in England.” I almost had to call for a nurse, he got such a shock.

I just had my eyes fixed, having suffered from cataracts for years. I’m a new man in so many ways. I might be 61, but I haven’t felt so young since the 1960s. Aside from my eyes, the other big change in my life is that I’ve pretty much become a vegetarian. Seriously. It’s my new phase: brown rice and vegetables. I don’t even drink milk, apart from a splash in my tea. It ain’t because of the animals. I mean, I used to work in a slaughterhouse. You won’t see me marching over the frozen tundra, hunting down people who club seals. I just can’t digest meat any more.

I also saw that Food, Inc film the other day, which gives you a new perspective — not just on meat-eating, but on the whole animal-product industry. I mean, think of the entire population of the US, which is, what, 309m? Say 80m of them eat an egg every day: that’s a lot of eggs to squeeze out of a lot of chickens. And the way they do it at these megafarms is enough to put you off breakfast for life.

Not that I’m into any of that organic bollocks. People think they’re buying another day on this Earth, so they get ripped off. If you want organic, grow your own, that’s what I say. I used to do that when I was married to my ex and we had a little cottage in Ranton, Staffordshire. A veggie patch also happens to be a great place to hide your stash. Having said that, I’d always get stoned and forget where I had buried it. One time, I spent a whole week down the garden, trying to find a lump of Afghan hash. The missus thought I must just be really worried about my carrots.

I suppose when people hear stories like that, they might think I’m too much of a bad example to give advice. I wouldn’t argue with them — and I’d hate for anyone to think: “Oh, if Ozzy survived all that outrageous behaviour, so can I.” But d’you know what? If people can learn from my stupid mistakes without having to repeat any of them; or if they can take some comfort from the crazy things my family has been through over the years; or if just hearing me talk about colonoscopies makes them less embarrassed about getting tested for colon cancer, that’s more than enough for me. Dr Ozzy’s job will be done.

One last thing: being a hypochondriac, I’ll never tell someone to just stop worrying and/or come back later if their symptoms get worse. In Dr Ozzy’s surgery, everything will get taken seriously. As I’ve always said to my own doctors, “One day you’re gonna be standing at my graveside while the priest is reading the eulogy, and you’re gonna look down and see the inscription on my headstone, and it’ll say, ‘See? I told you I was ill.’“

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Quote of the day

In the second scroll of Wen the Eternally Surprised a story is written concerning one day when the apprentice Clodpool, in a rebellious mood, approached Wen and spake thusly: "Master, what is the difference between a humanistic, monastic system of belief in which wisdom is sought by means of an apparently nonsensical system of questions and answers, and a lot of mystic gibberish made up on the spur of the moment?" Wen considered this for some time, and at last said: "A fish!" And Clodpool went away, satisfied.
--(Terry Pratchett, Thief of Time)

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