Toby Neal: Prescribing advice on some niggling matters

This week I have been going through my medical postbag and am happy to impart some sage advice to a number of patients with problems.

Time to stop celebrating
Time to stop celebrating

PATIENT X: Dear Doctor Neal, I am a highly paid footballer and find that every time a teammate scores a goal I lose all control of myself. I jump on them, I hug them, I kiss them – I just can't keep away! This is spontaneous behaviour and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop myself. But I heard something on the radio the other day which made me wonder if I might catch something. Or spread something. What am I to do?

Dear Patient X, I have noticed on Match of the Day that this is a common problem, so be assured that you are not alone. The remedy in your case is to find something which will help control your behaviour. I think the clue is that "highly paid" bit. If every time you did it somebody took all your money away so you were no longer highly paid, I think that might have a moderating influence on your behaviour. Alternatively, we could go for a radical cure by banning professional football for a while.

PATIENT Y: Dear Doctor, I need advice. I run an international haulage company and my big, burly drivers are starving to death. Every time they go on deliveries to Europe they get stopped and border guards impound their ham sandwiches.

Dear Patient Y, the technical term for this affliction is Product of Animal Origin and there has been an outbreak since January 1. Let them eat cake.

PATIENT PP: This is all a bit sensitive Doc. But I shout at civil servants. And swear. The worst thing about it is that I'm in a rather responsible position. Tell me straight – am I just a bully?

Dear Patient PP, this is more a workplace issue rather than a medical issue. In cases like this, just discuss it with your boss so that he can ignore it, and then move on.

PATIENT SIR ABC OBE: Dahling, I am in such a pickle. I just lurve to perform to people. The people just lurve me back. Something has happened which has left me sooo upset. My tours to spread some culture to my adoring fans on the continent are simply wonderful, but now I've been told I have to fill in some forms before I can go. Moi! Fill in forms! They will so miss me if I disappoint them. The whole thing is giving me the vapours. Please help.

Dear Sir ABC OBE, you don't have to go abroad to spread the lurve. Have you thought of doing a season at The Grand?

PATIENT BJ: Er, um, wotcha Doc, I'm actually writing on behalf of everybody else. I can't understand it. They are so unhappy at the moment despite everything I say and do to try to cheer them up. Those bright sunlit uplands are just around the corner but so many of them are inflicted by pessimismitis.

Dear BJ, have you considered that the underlying problem might not be with them, but with you?

PATIENT JOE: Have you got anything to get rid of the DTs?

Dear Joe, this condition thrives when exposed to light. Don't scratch the wound, and it will go away eventually.

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