Hypchondria Humor

315. Question; What is the best thing to do if your ailment shows up on an x-ray . . . Answer; consult a doctor . . . Question; What is the best thing to do if your ailment does not appear on an x-ray . . . Answer; consult a medical bookie, an astrology chart, a Chinese cookie, the weekly chook raffle ticket, bozo the clown, or the pattern of tea leaves at the bottom of an empty tea cup.

316. What is the difference between a problem doctor and a problem gambler? . . . When a problem doctor doesn’t have the foggiest idea what is causing an illness he makes a wild guess between 6 different psychological causes and his patient usually thinks that he is an idiot . . . When a problem gambler hasn’t got a penny to his name he puts a bet on the roll of a dice and usually loses his shirt.

320. At a recent international placebo conference the guest speaker, who was a world expert on the subject, was unable to attend. Apparantly he tried to cure stomach ulcers, broken legs, and cancer with sugar tablets; and he was still in jail for fraud.

322. Did you hear the one about the doctor who was suffering from stage fright? . . . The chairman of The Annual Hypochondriacs Conference said “I would like to welcome my 10,000 fellow hypochondriacs, and this years special guest speaker”.

325. In last week’s running of the Wizard Cup Hypochondriacs Revenge led all the way to win by six laps in the 3 lap race, Rigged Statistics from the scientific consortium came second, and Quack’s Pride was a distant third. (Hotfoot from the psychiatrists stable was scratched after burning his hooves on the firewalkers track 6 months before the start).

326. What happened to the extremely clever doctor who argued with hypochondriacs??? . . . Important clue; he was outnumbered 6 billion to one.

328. Why didn’t the hypochondriac worry all day and all night about all of the symptoms that his doctor couldn’t cure? . . . because he was so busy reading medical books that he didn’t have any spare time.

329. Why didn’t the hypochondriac ever get depressed? . . . because he spent so much of his time reading medical books that he couldn’t stop laughing from the time he woke up in the morning until the time he went to bed at night.

334. What is the difference between a highly educated doctor and an ignorant moron? . . . When a disease does not show up on an x-ray the doctor tells his patient “It must be all in the mind”, and a moron says “don’t ask for my guess ,I’m not an idiot”.”

Read Cyberworld’s most anticipated gutbuster; Joke numbers 302-306; Up Ship Creek Without A Paddle

Original medical jokes

1. Friends, globians, and net bunnies lend me your ears …… and your appendix, and your tonsils, and a few knee cartilages here and there ……. and anything else you have to spare – I need everything that you have to offer so feel free to be generous and don’t worry …. according to modern medical science those items serve no useful purpose and can lead a perfectly normal life without them.

2. Ladies and gentlemen thankyou for listening to my talk, in fact, I would like to thank you from the full length of my vocal chords because I don’t like making anatomical mistakes by referring to the bottom of my heart which, as you know, is not the seat of thought, and cannot produce speech.

3. Why did doctors prescribe 17th century medical satarist Moliere with arsenic……..because they diagnosed that he had a sick sense of humour and were trying to cure it.

4. The medical profession had existed for more than 2000 years and psychiatry had existed for more than a century when a patient of average education sought the opinion of a doctor. After extensive and expensive scientific tests the doctor could find nothing and referred the patient to a psychiatrist who had studied medicine and psychology at three international universities and had more than 20 years experience in practice….. the patient said …. I have a bellyache and I need help and my doctor can’t understand it can you tell me what is the cause……. to which the psychiatrist replied …… what do you think? …… the patient began reading medical books to help answer the question and when the doctor and psychiatrist found out they said…….that patient must be nuts.

5. A 35 year old man was sitting in the drivers seat of his car which was stationary at a stop light when a speeding vehicle hit his car from behind. His head was flung violently forward and then backwards over the top of his car seat and a week later he started getting headaches. After consulting his doctor and having x-rays there was no evidence of an injury so he was referred to a psychiatrist who, in an attempt to find the cause of his pain said “tell me about your early childhood”.

6. What does a medical critic say to a doctor who is inserting the anaesthetic injection immediately before a major operation…. answer…… anything that makes the surgeon happy.

7. Patient to psychiatrist…..what causes my backache…..psychiatrists reply…. your pain is psychosomatic………patient…..what psychological factor is responsible…..psychiatrists reply …….depression…..patients response…..but I’m not depressed…….psychiatrists reply…… then you must be faking because if you had real back pain you would be depressed.

8. A famous pop singer knew from experience that when he performed in small crowded theatres that the conditions were stifling and that he was often on the verge of suffocating, so he made a habit of keeping an oxygen bottle at the side of the stage for those occasions when he needed it to sustain consciousness. An investigative journalist was watching the show when he noticed a world famous psychiatrist in the audience studying teenage behaviour. Just then he heard some young girls screaming their lungs out, and he turned to the psychiatrist and said…. why are all of those young girls fainting….and the psychiatrist replied ……. it must be due to mass hysteria.

9. Question………What makes psychiatrists think that all diseases are caused by the mind and can be cured by psychotherapy……answer……about 300 bucks an hour.

10. Question …… What did the wealthy doctor say five minutes after a patient entered his clinic with 2 boken legs, a lacerated arm, a 12 inch knife in his back, a headache, and gallstones …answer………..next.

11. A man organised a public meeting for people with persistent fatigue……. half of the people who phoned to enquire about details said that they would be too tired to attend and the other half fell asleep during the meeting.

12. One day Fred the boxing champion injured his knee so he went to his doctor who told him that he had a torn cartilage and would need a knee operation. Fred went home and obtained a medical book to learn how to prevent problems and recover from the operation quickly so that he could recover in time for the olympics. He started by looking under the letter n for knee but realised that knee was spelt with a k so he looked under k for knee but found nothing. A few days later he tried again looking under the word c for cartilage and then o for operation and then s for surgery but all to no avail. Fred then went to hospital for the operation and after he awoke he would see the surgeon for about 2 minutes each morning and ask some questions but he never learnt much, so he experimented with bending and stretching his knee to increase its movement. A few weeks later he was still sore so he went to his city library to see if he could learn some more about his operation and he found a good book and started looking under the letter a and then b and c and d to no avail, but he persisted through the e’s and f’s and the g’s and h’s until he came to the m’s where he found the word meniscectomy which referred to the removal of an intra-articular semi-lunar cartilage of the knee joint. He then found another book with an entire chapter on that subject within which was a list of things to do prior to surgery and another list of what to do and what not to do in the days following surgery, and as he read he exclaimed . . . now I know why I am a cripple. He returned to his surgeon to discuss this matter and when he mentioned the word ‘meniscectomy’ the sugeon said “‘meniscectomy’ . . . that is a ‘big’ word for you to be using”, whereupon the boxer stood up and leaned over the desk and said to the surgeon . . . “and here is a ‘big’ bop on the nose for you”. With the benefit of his new found knowledge Fred recovered in time for the olympics but when he was in the ring his oponent said “I am going to put you in hospital again Fred”. Fred did not win the olympics that year because he was disqualified for putting his oponent in hospital.

13. How do you get a bad public image? First of all you get a back ache and then you get a good x-ray image.

14. News reporter to doctor … do hypochondriacs imagine they are sick . . . doctors reply . . . how would I know I’m not a hypochondriac.

15. Patient to doctor . . . doctor, how can you say that hypochondriacs are fond of illness one minute, and afraid of illness the next . . . doctors reply . . . don’t ask me, I didn’t write the medical text books.

16. A young medical student wanted to find the cause of the symptoms of hypochondria so he read three medical text books. The first said that two thirds of the patients were worried about their health so anxiety was the cause, and the second text book said that two thirds of the patients were depressed so that depression was the cause, and the third text book said that two thirds of the patients were obsessesed with illness so obsession was the cause. The student then decided to ask his mathematics professor to help him determine the statistical significance of his findings, and the professor said that two thirds plus two thirds plus two thirds was six thirds or two hundred percent which makes all three medical text books 100% wrong.

17. Doctor to hypochondriac: I think that your ailment is not real and that the symptoms are related to some sort of psychological trauma which has been suppressed into your sub-conscious mind since early childhood and has now come to the surface of consciousness as pain; What do you think? . . . . Hypochondriacs reply; Have you ever considered the possibility that you might have an over-active imagination?

18. Doctor to hypochondriac; I think that your symptoms are caused by anxiety and fear; what do you think? . . . Hypochondriacs reply; Don’t worry Doc, we all make mistakes.

19. Doctor to hypochondriac; I think that your symptoms are caused by depression, and that what is missing from your life is a sense of humour; what do you think? . . . Hypochondriacs reply; Are you trying to be funny!

20. Doctor to hypochondriac; I have given up trying to cure your problems; why do you keep coming back for advice? . . . hypochondriacs reply; Don’t worry Doc, I haven’t given up on you – Yet ! ! !

21. Doctor to hypochondriac; Why do you read medical books . . . Hypochondriacs reply; You’re asking me ? ? ?

22. The doctor had completed about a dozen tests, all proving negative, and he was becoming desperate and losing his cool when he said to the hypochondriac . . . there is nothing wrong with you, why don’t you believe me, are you stupid or something ! ! ! The hypochondriac thought about this for a moment and then said in a soothing voice . . . Well, doc, I’m a fair man, and I’m prepared to be reasonable, so I will tell you what I will do; I will start believing everything that you tell me when you start believing everything that I tell you.

23. A hypochondriac was trying to change a light bulb so he consulted his doctor for advice and reported that he was having trouble seeing at night, so the doctor gave him a blood test, an x-ray, and a CAT scan, and said ‘I can find no reason for it’, and referred him to a psychiatrist who said . . . ‘I think that the problem might be all in your mind, tell me about your childhood’. On the way home the hypochondriac stopped at a hardware store to pick up a light globe which was packaged in a box labeled ‘made in china’ which had instructions in Chinese. While courageously experimenting with the dangerous trial and error method he poked his finger into the light socket and electrocuted himself before finally securing the bulb and turning the light on again. The next morning he consulted the doctor once more and he said ‘doctor, doctor, can you please tell me what is wrong with me, I feel thoroughly shocking’, and the doctor looked at him and said ‘you are suffering from the classic symptoms of anxiety, fear, or even terror’, and the hypochondriac said ‘no I am not! what makes you think that?’, and doctor replied; ‘it’s obvious, look at yourself in the mirror, your face is pale and your hair is standing on end’.

24. The doctor sank into a sobbing state of despair with tears flowing down his cheeks and he said to the hypochondriac . . . What do I have to do to stop you from criticising me, and the hypochondriac said . . . Cheer up Doc, one day, whenever you figure it out, I will stop doing to you what you have been doing to me.

25. Three hypochondriacs were entered in a cross-country race. The first one took the advice of his coach who was a doctor who told him to ignore his symptoms and go for it, so he ran at a brisk pace for a hundred yards and then fell into a heap and began to crawl. The second hypochondriac took the advice of a psychiatrist who spent an hour extolling the virtues of positive thinking and the power of the mind, and he bolted from the starting blocks and collapsed into a heap after only twenty yards and started rolling around in circles. The third hypochondriac had been taking advice from doctors and psychiatrists for more than twenty years and he did not believe a word he was told so he just started walking and was last seen crossing a sand dune in the middle of the Simpson Desert, and as he ranted hysterically in a loud voice he was heard to say ‘which one of those idiot race organisers forgot to give me a compass’.

26. Three hypochondriacs became involved in a bragging contest. The first one said that he had 10 x-rays and that none of them showed any evidence of disease and that his doctor had told him that all of his symptoms were ‘all in the mind’ and then the second hypochondriac said that he had 20 x-rays and that his doctor had told him that all of his symptoms were ‘all in the mind’. The third hypochondriac said that he had 50 x-rays and his doctor told him that all of his symptoms were ‘all in the mind’. The first hypochondriac then said ‘I officially declare you to be the winner’; you are certainly the sickest man in the land’, and the third hypochondriac said ‘that is not true’. . . ‘How so?’ said the second hypochondriac . . . ‘well’, said the third hypochondriac; ‘my doctor has had his nose broken 50 times and is currently seeing a psychiatrist’ . . . ‘Oh!’ said the first hypochondriac, ‘and how is a psychiatrist going to find out why your doctors nose keeps getting broken?’ . . . and the third hypochondriac said ‘I don’t know, but I hope he gives him an IQ test’.

27. A hypochondriac goes to the medical clinic to get the results of his x-ray, and the doctor says ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know why, but I cannot see any evidence of disease and I do not know what to do next’ . . . The hypochondriac, who is always willing to help with his own treatment then says ‘have you thought of getting your eyes tested.’

28. Doctor to hypochondriac; ‘I have been seeing you for two years now and I have lost count of the number of x-rays you have had but cannot find any evidence of disease; when are you going to admit that your symptoms are ‘all in your mind” . . . ‘O.K. doctor’, said the hypochondriac ‘if it will make you happy, I admit it’ . . . The doctor then said ‘this may surprise you to know but you are the first hypochondriac I have ever had in my entire medical career who has admitted to having imaginary pain’ . . . The hypochondriac thought about this for a moment and then said sympathetically . . . ‘doctor; you know, I have to admit that nothing you say surprises me anymore.’

29. One of the nations top journalists decided to do an independent study of hypochondria so he went to one of the nations top medical authorities and he said . . . ‘why do hypochondriacs imagine they are ill’ . . . The doctor replied; ‘well, they tend to be very timid, compliant, impressionable, and gullible patients who believe everything they are told or everything they read, so if they see something about disease on television or read about it in a book they think that they have all the symptoms and start worrying and panicking about it. The journalist then published his important findings as a front page news scoop. The following day a hypochondriac rang his local talk-back radio station and said ‘why don’t they arrest the nitwit who wrote that tripe’, but the announcer thought that such comments might emotionally upset his journalist friend so he pressed the panic button, and, after denying the hypochondriac his right of reply the doctor and the journalist lived happily ever after.

30. At a local car rally the organisers decided to have a 10 lap race between three cars which were built to exactly the same specifications, and they asked for three volunteers from the crowd to participate. The first volunteer was a doctor who decided to give himself an advantage by putting a sugar tablet in the petrol tank. The second volunteer was a psychiatrist who decided to give himself an edge by furrowing his brow and using determination and the power of his mind to win. The third contestant was a mild mannered and softly spoken hypochondriac who was was wandering aroung the track minding his own busines when he was asked to enter the contest and he said ‘okey dokey’. The hypochondriac did not believe in the effect of placebos or mind power but he sped ahead from the very start and won easily. When presenting the trophy the race commentator said ‘you must feel fantastic about your spectacular victory’ . . . but the hypochondriac replied ‘as a matter of fact I am feeling quite sickly’ . . . ‘but why?’ said the commentator, ‘you just beat the other two contestants by nine and a half laps’. . . ‘well, I don’t know for sure’, said the hypochondriac, ‘but I think that fumes must have leaked from the petrol tank into the cabin of the car, and they may have been toxic, so that is the last time I use rocket fuel.’

31. A cyberchondriac had just finished telling his favorite doctor joke when his fiend collapsed into an uncontrollable heap of laughter. After regaining his composure he said ‘Aren’t you afraid that one day a doctor will shoot you for telling jokes like that?’ Suddenly the cyberchonriac threw his hands to his forehead and began running around the room in a frantic frenzy. ‘What is wrong?’ said his friend with some alarm ‘why are you panicking, are you afraid of death?’. ‘Of course not’ said the cyberchondriac, ‘but I just thought up another good one, and if I get shot this afternoon I might not live long enough to post it on the web ! ! !

32. The hypochondriac had just finished telling a doctor joke to a friend and after laughing uncontrollably for a few moments his friend said ‘have you considered the possibility that you are making a doctors job difficult by making fun of complicated problems’, and the hypochondriac said with some surprise ‘What do you mean ? ? ? am I making their lives difficult ? ? ?’.

33. A bright young journalist decided to investigate the subject of hypochondria so he spoke to a doctor and said ‘why do hypochondriacs imagine they are ill?’ . . . ‘They are very impressionable and gullible people and think that they have all of the symptoms of all of the diseases that the hear or read about’ said the doctor . . . ‘then how do you treat the condition’ said the journalist . . . ‘well, you have heard of that very good principle ‘fight fire with fire’ I presume’, said the doctor . . . ‘of course’ said the journalist ‘but why is that relevant’ . . . ‘well’ said the doctor, ‘we fight gullibility with gullibility‘ . . . ‘but how’, said the journalist . . . ‘we give them sugar tablets’ said the doctor ‘and they think that they are being cured’ said the doctor, ‘so their symptoms go away’ . . . ‘but does that principle work all the time’ said the journalist . . . ‘it should ! ! ! said the doctor’. . . The journalist then interviewed a hypochondriac and he said ‘why do you think you are sick’ . . . ‘because I am’ said the hypochondriac . . . The journalist then decided to test the doctors principle so he gave him a sugar tablet and said it would cure him . . . The hypochondriac swallowed it and afterwards the journalist said ‘has your pain gone?’ . . . ‘no’, said the hypochondriac . . . ‘it should have’ said the journalist’ . . . ‘why?’ said the hypochondriac . . . ‘because the doctor said so’ said the journalist . . . ‘did you believe him?’ said the hypochondriac . . . ‘yes’ said the journalist . . . ‘but why said the hypochondriac’ . . . ‘because he is a medically qualified man who knows what he is talking about’ said the journalist . . . ‘then perhaps doctors should specialise in treating journalists’ said the hypochondriac . . . ‘but how will that help hypochondriacs’ said the journalist . . . ‘well’ said the hypochondriac ‘the idea is based on a very good principle’.

34. A hypochondriac went to his doctor for help and the kindly doctor told him that his symptoms were due to misery . . . ‘but I’m not miserable said the hypochondriac’ . . . ‘maybe not’ said the doctor, ‘but try developing your sense of humor and see what happens’ . . . ‘O.K.’ said the hypochondriac . . . the following day the hypochondriac enrolled in a comedy school and soon attended his first gig . . . before long he was performing as a professional comedian every week at sports and social clubs, business conferences, and top entertainment venues. One day he arrived in his doctors office again, and this time he was very dejected and he said ‘doctor, you have to help me, I’m very desperate . . . ‘but why’ said the doctor . . . ‘well, said the hypochondriac; I died three times last night’ . . . ‘yes, I know’ said the doctor, nodding sympathetically, ‘I was an eye witness at the scene’ . . . ‘what can you do for me’ said the hypochondriac . . . ‘take my advice, young man’ said the doctor . . . ‘advice about what’ said the hypochondriac . . . ‘well, said the doctor’ . . . ‘about those doctor jokes’ . . . ‘they are very, very funny’ . . . ‘but don’t tell them at a medical convention’.

35. Journalist to hypochondriac; They tell me you are obsessed with medicine – when are you going to stop criticising doctors . . . hypochondriacs reply; ‘when they stop criticising me’.

36. Journalist to hypochondriac; Doctors tell me that people like you are hopeless, depressed, and obsessed with disease and death. Is that true.’ Of course not said the hypochondriac! but in the past there have been times when my interest in medicine was an absolute necessity, and I was not going to give up or cry like a baby, and even then I had other things to do, and nowadays it’s more of a hobby, and a half hour here, and a half hour there won’t kill me.’

37. One of the world’s top investigative journalists decided to study the subject of hypochondria so he buried his head in medical books for more than 12 months, and then one day he actually met a hypochondriac, and he said ‘I have studied the best medical books in the world to find out how the mind of a hypochondriac works and I’m still thoroughly confused; can you explain it to me?’ . . . and the hypochondriac replied ‘of course I can, it is very very easy, in fact you only need two things’ . . . ‘and what are they?’ said the curious journalist . . . and the hypochondriac replied ‘first you need a pain, and then you need an x-ray.’

38. Did you hear the one about the hypochondriac who traveled the world in search of a doctor who could give him a straight answer to a straight question . . . He was passing through a small village in eastern Siberia when he met the local doctor and said ‘can you tell me the time please’, and the doctor said ‘certainly; it’s 2.30 p.m’. . . . ‘How refreshing’ exclaimed the hypochondriac ‘there is such a doctor and I have found him at last’ . . . and then the hypochondriac said ‘what do you think is the cause of the symptoms of hypochondria? . . . and the doctor replied ‘Oh, you know, anxiety, depression, fear, obsession, early childhood problems, thought disorder . . . ‘

39. A doctor, a journalist, and a hypochondriac became involved in a bragging contest to see who was the bravest of them all. The doctor said that he had recently been on safari in Africa and found himself in front of a stampeding 10 ton rogue elephant. He calmly withdrew a cap gun from his coat pocket and filled its chambers with chook pellets and then aimed between the elephants eyes and shot him dead. The journalist then said ‘that was nothing!; He had just been out on the ocean in his 15 foot aluminium dingy and was fishing with a 15lb breaking strain line using maggots as bait when he hooked an 80 ton blue whale. After reeling it in he then rowed 50 miles through a hurricane and when he arrived at the local jetty he had a photo taken as proof and said ‘here it is’. The hypochondriac then said ‘I give up; I cannot beat that because I am feeling a bit sick at the moment’, and the journalist said ‘excuses, excuses’. The doctor then said ‘I know one more way of determining if you are sick or not; I would like you to go to the far end of a 2 mile cyclotron, and then a sling shot mechanism will shoot x-rays which will hit your body at 3 times the speed of light, and if there is anything wrong with you, even at the atomic level, we should find it’. The courageous hypochondriac said ‘Okey dokey’. The following day the doctor received the results of the x-ray and said to the hypochondriac ‘I’m afraid to report that nothing was found so I have to conclude that your symptoms are imaginary’. This made the hypochondriac very very angry, and having established that the cyclotron was as blind as a bat, he went and stood in front of the 3,000 ton monster with his fists clenched and said ‘come and get me you dopey bastard’.

40. The doctor said to the hypochondriac, ‘are you anxious’ . . . ‘no’ said the hypochondriac . . . and then the consultation continued . . ‘are you depressed’ . . . ‘no’ . . . ‘are you afraid of death’ . . . ‘no’ . . . ‘is it sympathy that you want’ . . . ‘you can shove that where the sun don’t shine’ . . .’are you confused’ . . . ‘no’. . . By this stage of the consultation the doctor was becoming frustrated so he said ‘look, if I can’t find something wrong with your mind, what am I supposed to do; rewrite the medical text books or something. I am trying to help you here, but I can’t help you unless you help me first’. . . ‘O.K. doc; that sounds fair’ said the hypochondriac, and then he took two biros from his shirt pocket and said ‘which one of these would you like to borrow; the blue one or the black one’.

41. ”How long is a patient supposed to take ineffective treatments before it is normal for them to read medical books in an attempt to cure their own ailments’ said the patient . . . ‘I don’t know’ said the doctor. . . ‘why not?’ said the patient . . . and the doctor replied ‘because it is not mentioned in the text books’.

42. A patient had been going to doctors for tests and treatments for more than 10 years all to no avail when he met a journalist in the local pub. What does it mean if you read medical text books to cure your own ailments? said the patient . . . ‘That means you are a hypochondriac’ said the journalist . . . ‘and what if you surf the internet to find a cure?’ said the patient . . . ‘that means you are a cyberchondriac’ said the journalist . . . ‘then what should I do’ said the patient . . . ‘go back to your doctor for more tests and treatments?’ said the journalist . . . ‘Oh! I can’t do that said the patient . . . ‘Why not’ said the journalist . . . and the patient replied . . . ‘because I’m not stupid’. 

43. The doctor had just prescribed a little pink sugar tablet to the hypochondriac and then he said ‘I would like you to take two of these each day, one in the morning and one at night’ and the hypochondriac said ‘will that help doctor?’ and the doctor replied ‘well, don’t worry, it will help me a lot more than it will help you’.

44. .Why do doctors say that the symptoms of hypochondria are caused by fear if it isn’t true?’ said the journalist . . . ‘Oh! I don’t know’ said the hypochondriac ‘Maybe they are brave, or perhaps foolhardy I suppose?’.

45. I’ve just thought of another possible psychological cause for your symptoms’ said the doctor to the cyberchondriac . . . ‘please tell me doctor; I’m all ears’ . . . ‘It could be your way of getting attention and notoriety’ said the doctor . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘Now doc, you really do have to stop wasting all of your time on those lucky dips and get a new hobby; have you thought of taking up golf!’.

46. ‘Why don’t you give up your hopeless cause?’ said the journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . ‘what do you mean hopeless’ said the cyberchondriac’ . . . ‘well, you do not seem to achieving anything’ said the journalist . . . ‘I suppose, said the cyberchondriac ‘but, fortunately, it is not the destination that matters, as much as the journey; come and talk to me later perhaps’.

47. ‘The symptoms of hypochondria are caused by anxiety, depression, worry, fear, and misery and a variety of other psychological factors’ said the doctor . . . ‘Why doc? why can’t they be due to a mysterious undetectable problem’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘Oh! that isn’t possible’ said the doctor . . . ‘but why not? said the cyberchondriac . . . and the doctor replied ‘I can’t find any mention of that in the text books’.

48. ‘What do you understand by the meaning of the word obsession’ said the journalist . . . ‘It is an unwarrented preocupation with something’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘so are you obsessed with your health’ said the journalist . . . ‘Oh no, said the cyberchondriac; in fact, if doctors could cure my problems I can think of 1000 other things to do’ . . . ‘well how so’ said the journalist, and the cyberchondriac replied ‘well, I’ve got a vivid imagination’. ‘Of course, of course, said the surprised journalist ‘why didn’t I think of that?”

49. ‘Can your spirit be broken?’ said the journalist . . . ‘I don’t know but anything is possible’ said the cyberchondriac. I’ll tell you what I’ll do; if you would like to try I will offer you some incentive’.. . OK said the journalist, what are you offering’ . . . ‘well’ said the cyberchondriac; ‘ if you can break it, you can drink it’.

50. A man had been consulting 20 different specialists and had more than 20 x-rays over a period of 20 years, during which time each specialist failed to find the cause of his pain and advised him that the problem was ‘all in his mind’. One day a new specialist used the latest x-ray machine to detect a very very small hole in the mans belly and he fixed it. When the man was being interviewed for a TV show the interviewer said ‘what do you think of all those other people with undetectable illnesses’ and the man replied ‘Oh! those whinging hypochondriacs have been making life miserable for genuine patients like me, because, for 20 years they thought that I was imagining things just like them’. The interviewer then turned to the cyberchondriac and said ‘what do you think of that’. ‘Oh!’ said the cyberchondriac ‘those x-rays still can’t detect everything’. ‘What do you mean’ said the interviewer. ‘Well’ said the cyberchondriac they still cannot detect the hole in that mans head.’ ‘What hole?’ said the announcer, and the cyberchondriac replied ‘The bloody great big one’.

51. ‘How do you assess fatiguability’ said the journalist to the cyberchondriac, and the cyberchondriac replied ‘well, you need an ergometric cycle, a cardiograph, and a y-axis’, and the journalist said ‘I suppose it is not very good’, and the cyberchondriac replied ‘I suppose so’. The journalist then said ‘How do you determine the severity of abdominal pain?’, to which the cyberchondriac replied ‘Oh, that is related to the strength of colon contractions which can be assessed by the displacement and haustrations it causes’. ‘I see’ said the journalist ‘and I suppose it is quite bad?’. ‘I suppose so’ said the cyberchondriac. The journalist then asked ‘How do you measure IQ’ and the cyberchondriac replied ‘by assessing vocabulary, comprehension, memory, spacial, algebraical, and mathematical ability and speed, and social insight’, said the cyberchondriac, and the journalist responded ‘and I suppose that is not good either?’ but the cyberchondriac replied ‘no, as a matter of fact it is quite good’. The journalist then said ‘and how do you measure the severity of menstrual pain?’ and the cyberchondriac replied ‘well, that is related to the strength of womb cramps and it has been possible to measure those since the nineteenth century, with transducers’. ‘Oh, and how long have you been suffering from those?’ said the pesky journalist, and the cyberchondriac replied ‘since my last pregnancy’, ‘and when was that?’ said the sarcastic journalist going for the jugular, and the cyberchondriac replied ‘well, I’m a bloke, so I suppose your guess is as good as the next persons’.

52. ‘I suppose you know that no matter what you do somebody is going to find fault with it’ said the journalist to the cyberchondriac, ‘so what do you propose to do about that?’ and the cyberchondriac replied ‘nothing’.

53. Journalist to cyberchondriac . . . “According to prominent doctors the type of trivial pain that most people would not even notice feels like a thumping great punch in the nose to people like you, and those medical opinions are presented in the most influential newspapers and magazines in the world today, so why don’t you stop criticisiing them and accept them?’ . . . ‘well’ said the cyberchondriac ‘I can see that it seems like a major problem to people like you, but to me it is just a bit of a challenge’ . . . ‘what do you mean, a bit of a challenge’ said the flabbergasted journalist reeling with astonishment, ‘what do you mean – a bit?, you are challenging the most powerful and influential people on the planet Earth’ . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘oh, you know, a little bit, you know, I might write another joke about it tomorrow, if I think of one, but I’m not going to cry about it if I don’t’.

54. A man fell of his ladder and felt some pain in his back. After several months of enduring the nagging ache he became concerned and decided to consult a doctor for advice. The doctor gave him an x-ray but there was no evidence of an injury so the man became confused. The doctor then said ‘do not despair, try these pills’. After taking some little red pills for a month, he was then prescribed some little green ones, and then some big orange ones, but the pain persisted so the man began to worry. ‘Don’t worry’ said the doctor, the pain could be psychological’, so he referred him to a psychiatrist. The psychiatrist did not seem to be interested in the pain but did ask him a lot of questions about his childhood and any personal problems he might have – the usual things, but this was fruitless so the man became depressed. When an ambitious young journalist was told about this case he decided that instead of asking the experts for their opinions he would create a revolution in medical journalism by actually talking to the man and he said ‘have you thought about reading medical books and trying to cure the problem yourself? and the man said ‘Certainly not’. ‘But why not?’ said the astonished journalist ‘look at you, you are confused, anxious and depressed, and you are a hopeless case with absolutely no prospects for the future’. . . ‘I know’ said the man; ‘but at least I’m normal’.

55. The cyberchondriac received an urgent phone call from a doctor who said with some alarm ‘I would like you to come to my clinic to discuss a problem’. ‘O.K. doc’ said the cyberchondriac. Later that day, in the doctors clinic the doctor said ‘I’m very anxious about your state of mind’. ‘Why is that?’ said the cyberchondriac. “well’, said the doctor ‘last month I noticed that you wrote one joke a day, and now you are down to one a week so I am worried that you might be losing your sense of humour, and I would like to help the situation’. ‘O.K. doc would antidepressants relieve the problem?’ said the cyberchondriac. ‘They often do’, said the doctor ‘sometimes in the most desperate cases of worry, depression, and panic’. ‘O.K. doc’ said the cyberchondriac ‘take two tablets a day, one in the morning, and one at night, and phone me again in a week and let me know if you are feeling any better’.

56. Journalist to doctor ‘Are all hypochondriacs depressed?’ . . . ‘well, in my experience, if they are not depressed when I first see them, they eventually become depressed’ said the doctor . . . ‘I suppose the symptoms of hypochondria must be very distressing if most people become depressed by them?’ said the journalist, to which the doctor replied ‘I suppose so’. . . Just then the journalist fell over and hit his head on the concrete footpath and as he staggered up he found that he was able to think for himself, and with unaccustomed clarity, when he said ‘Does that mean that the symptoms of hypochondria cause depression?’ . . . and the doctor replied ‘Oh! no, you have got things back to front because it is depression which causes the symptoms’ . . . ‘how can you say that?’ said the puzzled journalist . . . and the doctor replied ‘because the text books say so’.

57. Doctor to hypochondriac ‘You whinging bloody nuisances are always complaining about something trivial or another; I’ll bet you would have trouble changing a light bulb’ . . . hypochondriacs reply ‘doctor, doctor, if I have told you once I must have told you a thousand bloody times; it’s not the light ones that give me trouble; it’s them bloody heavy ones !!!’

58. Journalist to cyberchondriac ‘have you ever noticed that a joke which is funny to one man is not necessarily funny to another?’ . . . cyberchondriacs reply . . . ‘You witty journalists certainly know how to surprise people with your news scoops’.

59. At a recent medical conference one of the nations top psychiatrists explained the idea that the pain of whiplash injury was not due to the physical impact of a car accident but was related to the psychological trauma of potty training which had been suppressed into the subconscious mind since early childhood and was suddenly thrown into the conscious mind as pain 5 seconds after the accident. His speech was greeted with great applause and hoots of bravo bravo. The following week the psychiatrist gave the same talk at a public meeting which was attended by 200 whiplash patients and within 5 seconds of mentioning the words potty training they all began to laugh uncontrollably and half of them fell out of their chairs and were rolling about the floor with chest cramps, and one poor sucker was crawling franticly toward the exit as fast as he could splurting out the words ‘will somebody tell that silly clown to shut up before I die laughing’.
After telling this story to a cyberchondriac the journalist said ‘what do you think of that one’ to which the cyberchondriac replied ‘I think it is appalling and disgusting and the audience should be ashamed of themselves for that kind of behaviour, and I am very annoyed at them’. . . ‘but why, why?’ said the astonished journalist ‘you are the most ruthless medical critic I have ever met in my entire life, and who I am ever likely to meet , and I thought that you of all people would be absolutely delighted to hear a story like that’. . . ‘Oh! I am, I certainly am’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘then why are you so annoyed?’ said the astonished journalist in a high pitched voice of frustration ‘are you irrational, are you crazy or something; what could you possibly be annoyed about?’ . . . ‘well’ said the cyberchondriac, ‘as a matter of fact I am very very annoyed because nobody laughs like that when I tell my jokes’.

60. A woman went to her doctor coughing and spluttering and said ‘what is wrong with me doc’ and after a brief examination the doctor said ‘I am afraid to say that you have a case of acute infectious rhinitis’. . . the woman then cried and panicked and ran around the room and fell to her hands and knees begging for mercy ; ‘doctor, doctor please help me, you’ve gotta help me, you’ve gotta help me’ so the doctor prescribed her some tablets and sent her on her way. ‘Next’ said the doctor, and the cyberchondriac entered the room coughing and spluttering and said ‘doctor, what is wrong with me?’ After a brief examination the doctor said ‘I am afraid to say that you have a case of acute infectious rhinitis’ . . . ‘Thankyou for that reassuring diagnosis doc, and how do you guys treat the sniffles’ and the doctor coughed and spluttered and cried and panicked and ran around the room and fell to his hands and knees begging for mercy . . .

61. The cyberchondriac consulted his doctor about one of his many physical symptoms and the doctor said ‘are you afraid of disease, are you afraid of death, are you afraid of people, are you afraid of open spaces, are you worried about something, depressed, obsessed or confused or are you just plain crazy?’. . . After an hour and a half of continuous questioning the cyberchondriac interrupted and said ‘doctor, can I ask you a question?’ . . . ‘certainly’ said the doctor ‘what would you like to know?’ . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘What type of medication are you on?’.

62. The journalist said to the cyberchondriac ‘Aren’t you afraid that one day you will make one little mistake and that doctors might blow it up out of all proportion to make you look foolish?’ . . . ‘Good grief’ said the cyberchondriac ‘If you think that I am afraid you must think that doctors are terrified’ . . . ‘but why is that?’ said the journalist, and the cyberchondriac replied ‘because I have been looking for their little mistakes and I have found thousands of them.’

63. ‘How do you propose to influence doctors with your ideas?’ said the journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . ‘well, at the very basic level’ said the cyberchondriac ‘I try to communicate with them in words of 10 syllables or more; but even when I take those extreme measures, trying to get them to understand obvious truths still isn’t easy’.

64. ‘Would you say that some doctors are too smart by a half?’ said the journalist to the cyberchondriac. ‘Certainly not!!’ said the highly offended cyberchondriac ‘I’m a fair man, and I’m willing to think the best of people’. . . ‘then what would you say?’ said the flabbergasted journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘I’d be prepared to give them 95%’.

65. ‘Some doctors say that the symptoms of hypochondria are caused by fear’ said the journalist. ‘Oh’, said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac; ‘I think that those doctors deserve a bravery medal’ . . . ‘but why do you say that?’ said the curious international investigative journalist; ‘do you think they are broad shouldered and mighty men?’ . . . ‘not necessarily’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘is it because they were fearless debating champions at university?’ said the journalist . . . ‘Oh, not necessarily’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘Then why, why, why? ? ? said the in-depth investigative journalist reeling with frustration in his attempt to unravel the apparently unfathomable mystery . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘because hypochondriacs outnumber doctors by 700 to one.

66. According to many doctors the symptoms of hypochondria are caused by fear so the world’s most influential magazine decided to send out their most thorough and experienced in depth, journalist (the peskiest of them all) to investigate the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac who seemed to be fearless. When he interviewed the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac he said ‘are you afraid of doctors?’ . . . ‘no’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘are you afraid of psychiatrists? said the journalist . . . ‘no’ said the cyberchondriac . . . and so the interview continued . . . ‘are you afraid of disease?’ ‘no’ . . . ‘cancer’ ‘no’ . . . ‘death’ ‘no’ . . . ‘aha’ said the peskiest journalist of them all ‘are you afraid that the public will believe what doctors say about you?’ ‘no’ . . . ‘are you afraid that doctors might poison you with their pills and attribute your death to natural causes?’ ‘no’ . . . ‘are you afraid of enclosed spaces?’ ‘no’ . . . ‘cuddly little white bunny rabbits’ ‘no’ . . . ‘I know’ said the journalist, attempting to leave no stone unturned ‘are you afraid of pesky journalists?’ ‘no’ . . . ‘our ability to dictate public opinion?’ ‘no’ . . . ‘our ability to present only one side of a two sided story?’ ‘no’ . . . ‘our remarkable skill with spin?’ ‘no’ . . . ‘but what about our ability to sabotage your freedom of expression’ ‘no’ . . . ‘Oh! dam’ said the peskiest journalist of them all, ‘but I’m not done yet; are you afraid of spiders?’ ‘no’ . . . ‘snakes’ ‘no’ . . . ‘viscious white pointer sharks’ ‘no’ . . . ‘man eating crocodiles’ ‘no’ . . . ‘Oh no’ said the peskiest journalist of them all ‘if I can’t go back to my editor with at least one phobia I, I, I’ll l, l, lose my reputation as the peskiest journalist of them all; ya gotta help me, ya gotta, ya gotta’ he said falling to his hands and knees begging the cyberchondriac to tell him of at least one fear . . . ‘but how can I tell you of something that does not exist?’ said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac trying to be helpful . . . ‘Oh, no, I’m ruined’ said the peskiest journalist of them all, but then he rallied with an idea and said ‘I know how you can do it’ . . . ‘then how can I help?’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘you can use your very, very, very vivid imagination’ said the relieved and hopeful peskiest journalist of them all, thinking that he had found an infallible solution . . . ‘Uh oh’ said the cyberchondriac ‘I think you have found my achilles heel’ . . . ‘Oh good’ said the peskiest journalist of them all, ‘now please, please, please tell me what you are afraid of’ . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘I’m very, very, very afraid that if you don’t stop yap yap yappity yapping very, very, very soon I’ll get very, very, very sore ears.’

67. ‘If you cannot measure or detect pain how can you say with confidence that it is trivial or imaginary?’ said the most inquisitive journalist in the world, the peskiest of them all, and the craftiest doctor in the world said ‘Oh, that is because, if we did not appear to be confident our patients wouldn’t believe us’ . . . Meanwhile, the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac, who overheard this intriguing conversation said to the crafty doctor, ‘can I quote you?’.

68. The world’s craftiest doctor and the peskiest journalist of them all decided that they had endured enough criticism from the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac, so they joined forces in an attempt to bring about his undoing. ‘We should find the best plan known to human history’ said the crafty doctor. ‘Sounds good’, said the pesky journalist ‘how do we do that?’ and the crafty doctor replied ‘I will read all of ye olde fangled history books about medicine, politics, and warfare, and you can read all of ye olde fangled newspapers, journals, and magazines and we will combine the very, very, very best tactics we find into one fail-safe strategy.’ ‘Okey dokey’ said the enthusiastic pesky journalist, and they proceeded to keep up a hectic correspondence using the most indecipherable codes ever known to humanity, with the crafty doctor using ye olde fangled smoke signals, and the pesky journalist penning away furiously with Siberian goose quills. After formulating the finest strategy ever known to man they snuck up on the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac; the one with the prolific, perspicacious, super-callo-frago-ruddy-something-or-other-callo -listico-transmitto-callo-cocious and monochromic but octangulated, multiplaned and polydimensional imagination. The cyberchondriac sneezed and noticed the plot brewing in his webcam and thought to himself ‘Oh damnation, now I will have to implement plan Cn@*\ . . . the doctor was shocked and he turned to his left and said ‘where is the peskiest journalist of them all?’ and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘he went that-a-way.’

69. The most inquisitive journalist in the world, the peskiest of them all, began an in depth investigation to determine what was going on inside the mysterious and unfathomable mind of a hypochondriac, so he contacted the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac and said ‘why do you think that doctors study medicine for 6 years at university?’. The cyberchondriac replied ‘so that they can learn everything that is known about disease and use the information to help their future patients’. . . ‘Aha’ said the pesky journalist ‘and how do you expect them to do that?’, and the cyberchondriac replied ‘I expect that when I go to a doctor for advice they will be able to tell me the cause of my ailments in a few minutes, and give me an effective treatment so that I can return to my customary activities, without having to go to all that time and trouble of studying medicine myself’. . . ‘Aha’ said the pesky journalist, but what if doctors can’t cure your ailment; what about psychiatry?’ said the peskiest journalist of them all . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘Oh, you mean when that fails too?’ . . . ‘precisely’ said the journalist . . . ‘Oh, in that case if the best marvels of modern medical science and modern psychiatry fail I just have to use pragmatic philosophy’ . . . ‘and what does that mean in plain English?’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘Ya wanna know wot that meyans in plain English, Iyul teyul ya wot that meyans in plain English cayowboy; it meyans that sometimes a man’s gotta do wot a man’s gotta do’ . . . ‘Oh stop being silly and get serious’ said the frustrated peskiest journalist of them all; spit it out and talk sense’ . . . and the slightly agitated, softly spoken, mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac screamed his bloody lungs out and said ”The reason I have to read bloody medical books my bloody self is because sometimes bloody doctors and bloody psychiatrists are bloody useless and sometimes even bloody insulting and they talk stupid bloody nonsense and tell bald faced bloody lies and are worse than the bloody disease.’ After calming himself down the softly spoken mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said in a calm and reflective voice ‘can I make it any clearer than that Einstein.’

70. The craftiest doctor of ye olde fangled land and the peskiest journalist of them all decided to hatch a plot against the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac so they hired a fishing dingy and rowed out to sea where their scheming could not be overheard. Two cyberdolphins were passing beneath when the first one said ‘let’s get outa here?’ and the other one said ‘Oh no, don’t worry, that’s just the crafty doctor and the pesky journalist; they can’t catch us’. . . ‘but why not?’ said the first dolphin, and the second dophin replied ‘they can’t see anything beneath the surface’ and the first cyberdolphin said ‘Oh yeh’, and they both began laughing uncontrollably. Just then a school of cyberwhiting went speeding bye and the first dolphin said to their chief ‘why are you going so fast; those fishermen up there are only the crafty doctor and the pesky journalist?’ so the chief cyberfish said ‘slow down fellas, those fishermen can’t catch us; they’re just the crafty doctor and the pesky journalist’ and the whole school fell apart and began laughing uncontrollably. At that very moment the chief cyberwhiting saw the world’s fastest and most coveted cybermarlin diving to the bottom of the sea faster than grease lightning and he said ‘do you know that those fishermen in that dingy up there are just ye olde fangled world’s craftiest doctor and the peskiest journalist of them all? . . . ‘I certainly do’ said the cybermarlin’ . . . ‘Then why are you diving in such a panic?’ said the chief cyberwhiting . . . and the world’s fastest and most coveted cybermarlin said ‘habit’.

71. ‘Why do ye olde fangled medical textbooks describe hypochondriacs as whinging, worrying, and depressed patients who complain excessively about imaginary or trivial ailments?’ said the world’s most inquisitive journalist; the peskiest of them all . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘because I didn’t write them.’

72. ‘What do you do when the crafty doctor, the craftiest of them all, tries to bring about your undoing?’ said the most inquisitive pesky journalist; the peskiest of them all, to the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac ‘do you struggle and strain your prolific, perspicacious, super-callo-frago-ruddy-something-or-other-callo -listico-transmitto-callo-cocious and monochromic but octangulated, multiplaned and polydimensional imagination to produce a countermeasure?’ . . . ‘Oh no’ said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac ‘I never strain my imagination because I need it; and it is the only very, very, very healthy asset I’ve got, so I intend to bloodywell keep it that way!’ . . . ‘Oh, then what do you do? said the inquisitive journalist . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘I give him a very, very, very good dose of his own dull and boring ye olde fangled medicine’ . . . ‘but what if he devises an amazing new approach?’ said the peskiest journalist of them all; how will you deal with that without straining?’ . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘I’ll bloodywell copy it’.

73. ‘Has anyone ever criticised your ideas in the media?’ said the pesky journalist; the peskiest of them all, to the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac . . . ‘Yes they have as a matter of fact, many times’ said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac . . . ‘Oh then I suppose they have made you look pretty stupid?’ said the pesky journalist . . . ‘Yes they have as a matter of fact’ said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac ‘many times’ . . . ‘and have they ever given you the right of reply?’ said the peskiest journalist of them all . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘Nope’.

74. The peskiest journalist of them all and the craftiest doctor in ye olde fangled world and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac became involved in a cliche contest and their choice of subject was the nature of reality. The peskiest journalist of them all said ‘a picture speaks a thousand words’ and the craftiest doctor in ye olde fangled land said ‘if it does not show up on x-rays it does not exist’. . . The mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac then said ‘I’m outnumbered by you two clever codgers and I’m just a normal bloke; can I have three tries’ and the friendly pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all, and the confident crafty doctor said ‘Okey dokey; that sounds fair’ so the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘ye cannot judge ye olde fangled book by ye olde fangled cover, and ye absence of ye olde fangled evidence does not equate with ye absence of ye olde fangled existence, and ye olde fangled bus stops here’. . . ‘but why has a bus got to anything do with this contest?’ said ye olde fangled pesky journalist. Yeh, why?’ said ye olde fangled crafty doctor, ‘ . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘because I am driving ye new fangled keyboard’.

75. ‘You should put much more effort into thinking positively about things and less time telling doctor jokes’ said the pesky journalist to the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac . . . ‘But why?’ said the puzzled cyberchondriac, and the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all said ‘well, because I am finding it very, very, very difficult to see anything funny about the serious subject of medicine’ . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘You’re not trying hard enough.’

76. ‘What is wrong with you?’ said the doctor to the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac ‘you’re usually a confident, self assured, happy-go-lucky type of bloke who can always see ways out of tricky situations and you’re always laughing?’ . . . ‘you’re description is unusually accurate doctor’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘thankyou very much’ said the doctor, ‘but now you are sobbing and snivelling and crying profusely in a shameless display of pathetic misery; what has happened to you; did you cut your finger again?’ . . . ‘No’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘Have you got the sniffles’ . . . ‘No’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘Would you like a hanky to wipe away your tears?’ said the doctor . . . ‘Yes thankyou doctor; have you got a bucket?’ . . . ‘yes I have, here you are’ said the doctor . . . ‘thankyou very much doc; you can sometimes be very helpful’ said the cyberchondriac, and as the bucket overflowed with tears the doctor said ‘stop snivelling and tell me what is wrong’ . . . and the cyberchondriac said ‘well doc, if you must know, I have sold 150 of ye olde fangled medical books which is more than half of my collection and it has suddenly occurred to me that if I keep getting rid of them at this rate I’ll soon run out of joke material.

77. ‘Have you ever discussed your ideas on radio talk back shows?’ said the pesky journalist to the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac . . . ‘Oh yes, in the 1970’s and 80’s I did a bit of ranting and raving” said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘and why did you do that?’ said the journalist . . . ‘well’ said the cyberchondriac ‘as you know I am just an ordinary bloke and was not then the most articulate fellow you ever met but I had things to say so I just spat them out as quickly as I could before the announcers pressed the panic button.’ . . . ‘but why did they do that?’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘Oh, I suppose it was because they were protecting their powerful and influential friends or were being paid to protect other people’s interests and I was offending them’ . . . ‘but what was you saying?’ said the pesky journalist . . . ‘Oh you know; that Maralinga fallout was dangerous; Agent Orange would kill you; that whiplash injuries were real; and that the state bankers would ruin the state; things like that’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘and why would radio announcers stop you from saying those things?’ said the pesky journalist . . . ‘Oh you know because they were being told what to do by the usual bunch of miscreants; the government, the army, corrupt bankers, professionals with vested interests in other ideas, academics with hidden agendas . . . and the conversation continued . . . 4 hours later . . . and . . . the tobacco companies who gave them millions of dollars a year in advertising contracts, and multi-national corporations who wanted to have government assets privatised so they could buy them and profit from captive customers, and corrupt insurance company executives, and then of course there was the cash for comment money pushed under the table without the audience being told’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘Oh yes that funny money’ said the pesky journalist . . . “yes that funny money’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘and how did they treat your ideas?’ said the journalist and the cyberchondriac replied ‘the usual ways; talk to me for 2 minutes; cut me off; contradict me for the next 5 mnutes while giving their audience the false impression I had the opportunity to reply, and then they would interview an expert the following day to again indirectly discredit everything I said’. . . ‘so what you are saying is that those announcers did not have minds of their own and were incapable of expressing their own opinions and couldn’t be trusted as far as you could spit’ said the pesky journalist . . . ‘you said that not me’ said the cyberchondriac ‘but I suppose you are right’ . . . ‘and I suppose you are different; I suppose you can’t be bought’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac said ‘you betcha’ . . . ‘and then if you are not prepared to compromise with anyone you will never be praised and made popular like pop singers and movie stars’ said the pesky journalist . . . and then the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said to the pesky journalist; the peskiest of them all ‘You really are the sharpest tack in the packet’ . . . ‘so why did you do it?’ said the puzzled pesky journalist and the cyberchondriac replied . . . ‘It seemed like a good idea at the time.’ . . . ‘so why did you stop’ said the curious pesky journalist; the peskiest of them all ‘did you give up in despair; lose faith in humanity; sink into a pit of depression; cry like a baby?’ . . . ‘Oh, no, none of those things’ said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac ‘I suppose as you can now see, history repeats itself over and over again ad infinitum, and I just got bloody bored.’

78. ‘How would you say that your ideas about hypochondria were treated in the medical literature?’ said the pesky journalist to the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac ‘would you say ‘excellent?’ . . . ‘not really’ said the cyberchondriac . . .and the conversation continued . . . ‘would you say they were receiving very good treatment?’ . . . ‘not exactly’ . . . ‘good’ . . . ‘no’ . . . ‘would you say; very fair?’ . . . ‘not quite’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘fair?’ said the inquisitive journalist . . . ‘no’ came the reply . . . ‘Then what would you say?’ said the pesky journalist who was getting sarcastic with frustration in trying his utmost to get an answer; ‘would you say pale and insipid?’ . . . ‘you’re getting warmer’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘stop mucking around I’m really, really, really trying to find out what you types think’ said the agitated and snappy, puzzled, pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all, and the always helpful mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘try invisible.’

79. ‘According to ye olde fangled 20th century medical books hypochondriacs are sulking, whinging, snivelling, worrying and fretful nuisances who complain excessively about imaginary or trivial ailments and are best treated with a good cussing or a good spanking; what have you got to say about that now that cyberchondriacs can give their side of the story?’ said the pesky journalist to ye olde fangled doctor . . . and the doctor replied ‘it isn’t fair because we were intelligent enough to spend 6 years at university learning everything that was known at that time but we didn’t have enough imagination to predict that we would soon discover things we never knew existed as a cascading assortment of geeks invented CAT scans, PET scans, IMR’s, bloody light speed scans, and the ruddy internet’. . . Then the pesky journalist turned to the cyberchondriac and said ‘what do you think of that answer?’ . . . and the cyberchondriac said ‘can you give me a bucket?’ . . . ‘but why?’ said the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all, ‘are you going to be sick?’ . . . and the slightly agitated mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘no, of course not, but if you don’t get me a bloody bucket bloody quick that poor bloody doctor is going to drown in my bloody tears.’

80. In an attempt to learn about the mysterious workings of the mind of a hypochondriac the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all from ye olde fangled land, said to the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac ‘Do you remember when doctors and psychiatrists failed to cure your ailments and then tried to discourage you and stop you from trying to solve them yourself?’. . . ‘I certainly do’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘then what was you thinking at the time?’ said the journalist . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘Do you really want to know the honest truth?’ . . . and the pesky journalist said ‘yes; as a matter of fact, I do; please be frank’ . . . ‘Okey dokey’ said the cyberchondriac ‘I’ll tell you’ . . . ‘good, please do’ said the peskiest journalist of them all . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied . . . ‘I was thinking – lots of luck fellas; you don’t stand a snow flakes chance in hell but I admire your courage – because if you expect me to waste my whole life away waiting for you silly clowns to solve my problems you are going to need all the bloody luck and all the bald-faced gall you can muster.’

81. After recently reaching 20,000 hits on his website the cyberchondriac staggered into his doctors rooms and the doctor said ‘You look terrible; your nose is broken in 4 places; you’ve got two black eyes; your cheeks are smashed, your jaw is fractured; you are bleeding from the throat; your shoulders are bruised and dislocated; your sternum and four ribs are cracked; you look a thorough mess; what happened to you?’ . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘don’t you worry doc, cough, splutter, aaghaaghh, gasp’ . . . and then the doctor said ‘why should I be worried? do you think I won’t have enough bandages for all your cuts?’. . . ‘The cyberchondriac fell to the floor and rolled around laughing and when he got up he said ‘you’re a funny bloke doc; have another guess’ . . . the doctor then replied ‘do you think I am worried that I won’t have enough plaster for your bones?’ . . . the cyberchondriac fell to the floor once more laughing uncontrollably and when he got up again he said ‘you’re really funny doc; try again’ . . . the doctor then said ‘do you think I’m worried that I won’t have enough transfusion to replace all the blood you’ve lost?’ . . . this time the cyberchondriac lost it and buckled up with laughter and said ‘stop, stop, now you’re being downright hilarious’ . . . by that stage the doctor had lost his patience and grabbed the cyberchondriac by the shirt collar and shook him violently and said ‘stop being silly you ruddy gallah; you’re the one who has been hit from here to Timbukruddytu so why should I be worried?’ . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘cough, splutter, aaghaaghh, gasp, because I’m not dead yet.’

82. In his continuing attempts to investigate the mysterious mind of a hypochondriac the pesky journalist decided to interview the cyberchondriac and he said ‘Why don’t you stop criticising doctors and stop making jokes about them and just shut up and accept things the way they have always been in ye olde fangled land?’ . . . ‘Let me clarify what you are saying’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘certainly’ said the pesky journalist ‘please do’ . . . ‘Okey dokey’ said the cyberchondriac ‘you know that I’ve had a lot of health problems in my time, and that doctors have been completely and utterly useless in doing anything about most of them, and to add insult to injury they blamed me for the failure of treatment and they talked behind my back and told everyone in ye olde fangled land that I was a ruddy nuisance’ . . . ‘Well, that is one way of putting it, I suppose’ said the pesky journalist . . . ‘and you expect me to do nothing about that?’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘well, yes; that is what you are supposed to do’ . . . ‘You’re joking aren’t you?’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘yep’ said the pesky journalist . . . ‘you’re trying to be funny’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘yep’ said the pesky journalist . . . ‘well stop it; you’re cracking me up’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘but why?’ said the inquisitive journalist ‘I’ve got you laughing your silly head off’ . . . ‘I know, I know’ said the cyberchondriac ‘your hilarious but you have to stop’ . . . ‘but why?’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘because you’re supposed to be the pesky one; the peskiest of them all, and I’m the comedian, so stop being funny and let me tell the jokes.’

83. ‘Why don’t you criticise doctors in the normal way by using conventional methods and going through official channels?’ said the pesky journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . and the cyberchondriac said ‘what; you mean like healthy and influential people?’ . . . and the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all said ‘yeh, like them ones’ . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘you’re not the brightest candle in the dungeon are you.’

84. ‘I’ll bet you think that your doctor jokes will get more laughs than the hypochondriac jokes that doctors tell’ said the pesky journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘they had ruddywell better’ . . . ‘why is that?’ said the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘because I’m not writing them for the fun of it.’

85. ‘You know doctors have described hypochondriacs as fearful, miserable nuisances with no sense of humour at all, and I have lost count of all the bad things they say, but none of them seem to apply to you; what do you think they might come up with next to account for this anomaly?’ said the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all, to the cyberchondriac . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘Oh, I suppose they might say something nice, or complementary, or even flattering?’ . . . A few moments later after tolerating the pesky journalists response to this highly ambitious suggestion the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said angrily ‘will you get up off the carpet and stop laughing; you silly galah; it’s not that funny’.

86. ‘When doctors expect their patients to believe that their symptoms must be trivial or imaginary simply because there is no evidence of them on the latest scientific diagnostic tests, do you think they are being incredibly arrogant? said the pesky journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . ‘No’ said the cyberchondriac . . . and the conversation continued . . . ‘do you think they are being pretentious?’ . . . ‘no’ . . . ‘stupid’. . . ‘not necessarily’ . . . ‘do you think that they are overestimating the gullibility of their patients?’ . . . ‘not necessarily’ . . . ‘then what do you think?’ said the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all, eager to get some sort of logical answer . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘I think that those doctors have got very, very, very vivid imaginations.’

87. Ye olde fangled doctor had just arrived on an urgent home visit and found himself confronted by a woman in great distress. She said doctor please help me, my heart is pounding , I’m very breathless, I’ve got indigestion, and a terrible pain in my lower back’ . . . ‘What do you want me to do?’ said the puzzled doctor . . . and the woman replied ‘I’m wearing this damned corset with a 10 inch waist line, and I think it’s too tight; could you please loosen it for me?’ . . . ‘Oh no, that wouldn’t be the cause of your problems’ said the doctor ‘I know what is wrong with you; you’re one of those whinging hypochondriacs whose has read too many medical books and you fancy that you are suffering from every new symptom that you’ve learned about. What you are actually suffering from is a fascinating operatic display of symptomatological chamber music, and you don’t need me; you need a psychiatrist’ . . . The woman then suddenly rushed into the kitchen and when she returned she hit the doctor over his head with a metal frying pan, and then smacked him on the side of his cheekbone with a champagne bottle, and then she punched his pearly whites out and as each tooth hit the floor one at a time she could hear the sounds ding, da da ding, da da ding ding ding, followed by a thud, da da ding ding ding. After regaining consciousness the doctor staggered to his feet sobbing and spluttering and he said ‘what did you do that for?’ and he yelped and wailed ‘why, why, why, oh why did you do that?’ . . . and the woman replied ‘that was my music therapy’.

88. ‘The problem of hypochondria is a simple one which merely involves a patient who exaggerates their symptoms out of all proportion’ said the doctor to the cyberchondriac . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘Oh yeh, if you think it is such a simple problem then why can hypochondriacs go to a hundred different doctors and get 100 different diagnoses?’ . . . The doctor became so furious at this cross-examination that he punched the cyberchondriac in the nose and broke it in three places and the very, very, very slightly injured mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘Yeeeeeooouuch; what did you do that for; why, why?’ . . . and the doctor said ‘because you make us look very, very, very silly with your exaggerations’ . . . ‘What do you mean?’ said the very, very, very slightly confused cyberchondriac . . . and the doctor replied ‘because there are only 99 different diagnoses listed in our text books.’

89. ‘You know doctors are very sophisticated, intelligent, highly educated, academically trained, and very, very, very serious people; they are not going to be impressed by your pathetic and miserable jokes’ said the pesky journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . and the cyberchondriac threw his hands in the air and ran around the room in a panic screaming ‘Aah, aah, aah, aaaaaaaaah’ . . . and the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all, said ‘what are you fretting about now?’ . . . and the very, very, very terrified mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘I didn’t know that those silly galahs would be reading them.’

90. The doctor staggered out of an important medical conference to be interviewed by the pesky journalist who said with some alarm ‘Look at you, you’re black and blue from head to foot; what happened in there?’ . . . and the blood splattered doctor replied ‘cough, splutter, gasp; you know that pathetic cyberchondriac; the one who has no sense of humor at all’ . . . ‘yes, I certainly do; the miserable blighter’ said the pesky journalist . . . ‘well’ said the doctor ‘I was reading one of his jokes to show how sick he was and then, when I accidentally started laughing; all hell broke loose.’

91 ‘There is no such thing as free speech any more’ said the cyberchondriac to the pesky journalist . . . ‘why do you say that?’ said the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all; is it because a crafty doctor has sabotaged your website?’ . . . ‘no’. said the cyberchondriac . . . and the conversation continued . . . ‘has some unnamed pesky journalist burned all your books?’ . . . ‘nope’ . . . has a radio announcer banned you from talk back shows?’ . . . ‘wrong again’ . . . has a TV host interviewed you with a muzzle on your mouth . . . ‘no’ . . . ‘Then why do you say that there is no such thing as free speech any more you silly galah?’ said the frustrated puzzled pesky journalist, the puzzledest of them all . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘because doctors are so ruddy funny that I am writing a ruddy joke every ruddy day and I have to pay 20 ruddy bucks every ruddy month for the ruddy internet.’

92. ‘What are you laying on the flat of your back for ?’ said the crafty doctor to the cyberchondriac. . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘I’m waitng for the pain in my belly to go away doc’ . . . and the crafty doctor, the craftiest of them all said ‘oh, you mean that imaginary pain of yours?’ . . . Biff, Bam, Zap, Kazump, * ## ** thud . . . ‘what did you do that for?’ said the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all; areyou stupid?’ . . . ‘no’ said the cyberchondriac . . . and the conversation continued ‘are you angry?’ . . . ‘nope’ . . . ‘are you hostile?’ . . . ‘wrong again’ . . . ‘are you a violent fellow?’ . . . ‘nope’ said the cyberchondriac . . . and the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all said ‘then why did you do that?’ . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘Oh, you silly galah; I was just getting rid of a pain in the arse.’

93. ‘You can’t make fun of doctors and journalists the way you do’ said the pesky journalist, to the cyberchondriac, and the cyberchondriac replied ‘Oh I think that you need a bit of a reality check sport’ , , , ‘You mean me; this one; I need a reality check; that’s a bit rich’ said the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all ‘how can you say that?’ . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘because you can’t tell me that I can’t do something that I’ve already done.’

94. ‘In his ongoing attempts to investigate the mysterious functioning of a hypochondriacs mind the pesky journalist asked the following probing question to the cyberchondriac ‘Have you ever thought about what you would do if you was a doctor’ . . . ‘I certainly have’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘then what would you do?’ said the journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac said ‘well, if my patient complained of an ailment where there was no x-ray evidence of it I would have to guess if it was real or not; I would have to consider if it was due to the side-effects of my drugs or not, or if it was due to the poor suckers employment, or some toxic chemical spill by a major industry, and if I found out, I would then need to consider if I should tell him or not; and if I authorised an insurance payout; how much would it cost the country, and how would my golfing buddies react; you know the bosses, the insurance company executives; the politicians etc; and I would just have to drown the patient in jargon and then tell him that he was imagining things’ . . . ‘Biff, bam, zapow **#z8#/ Gazonk . . . ”what was that?’ thought the cyberchondriac . . . and when he turned toward the pesky journalist he said ‘what happened to you; you’re black and blue from head to foot; you look like you’ve been hit by a Mack truck . . . ‘Oh no, that was just the crafty doctor, the craftiest of them all’ said the pesky journalist . . . ‘and why did he do that; it looks like he’s belted the living daylights out of you?’ said the puzzled mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac . . . and the pesky journalist; the one who was too pesky for his own good replied ‘the crafty doctor, the craftiest of them all, said he wanted me to find out about your mysterious mind, not his mystifying mind.’

95. ‘Can you remember the time when you needed doctors to give you information from medical textbooks?’ said the pesky journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . ‘I certainly can’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘and what happened?’ said the journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘I learned nothing’ . . . ‘so what did you do?’ said the journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘I read the medical text books myself’ . . . ‘and can you remember when you needed journalists to report your opinion about hypochondria?’ . . . ‘I certainly can’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘and what happened?’ said the journalist . . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘not much’ . . . ‘so what did you do?’ said the journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘I published my own website’ . . . ‘so I suppose you don’t need anything now? said the journalist . . . ‘well, I certainly don’t need what you and that crafty doctor need’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘and what is that?’ said the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all; the one who asked too many questions for his own good . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac; the one who couldn’t stop laughing, replied: ‘sympathy; lots of it’.

96. ‘What does it mean when doctors say that a disease is not officially recognised by their profession?’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘that means that all doctors know that they are dealing with a real disease but none of them want to take responsibility for it, so they usually put it in the ‘all in the mind’ category and dump it in the psychiatric waste paper basket’ . . . ‘Oh, I see’ said the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all, and friend of all doctors, ‘but that is not putting a very nice light on it’ . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘I know, I know’ . . . ‘then why did you say it?’ said the pesky journalist, the one who always asked too many questions for his own good . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘because I wanted to use a magnifying expression and burn a ruddy great hole in it’.

97. ‘What ailments are diagnosed as being all in the mind?’ said the pesky journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . ‘Oh, you know, backaches, neckaches, bellyaches, fatigue, that sort of thing’ . . . ‘and when are they diagnosed as being all in the mind?’ said the journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘Oh, you know, when a person claims insurance or compensation for their problem, that sort of thing’ . . . and the journalist asked ‘then what ae those conditions diagnosed as before the person claims insurance or compensation?’ . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘Oh, you know; backache, neckache, bellyache, fatigue, that sort of thing’.

98. ‘During the 1970’s and 80’s a lot of people had car accidents in vehicles which did not have head rests or seat belts and they developed neck aches and migraines; do you know what happened to them?’ said the pesky journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . ‘Oh yes’ said the cyberchondriac ‘their doctors told them that there was no evidence of injury and referred them to psychiatrists who told them that their pain was all in the mind, caused by, you know, anxiety, depression, early childhood problems, or whatever they managed to scribble on their notepads at the time’ . . . ‘and what happened after that?’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘Oh, they claimed on their insurance policies and were told that the pain was caused by their mind and not the accident so they did not get their payouts’. . . ‘Oh, I see’ said the pesky journalist ‘and how many of the patients were told that?’ . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘as far as I can determine approximately 100%, you know, give or take a percent or two.’

99. After meeting with the crafty doctor, the craftiest of them all, the one who was too crafty by 95%, the pesky journalist said to the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac ‘You know, of course, that they say people like you are emotionally insecure and fake your symptoms to get the sympathy and attention that you so desperately crave?’ . . . ‘yep’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘and that you have an irrational distrust of the reassurances of your doctors’ said the pesky journalist . . . ‘yep’ said the cyberchondriac . . . and that you are a cowardly person living in a constant state of fear?’ said the pesky journalist . . . ‘yep’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘and that you are obsessed with medicine and can think of nothing else?’ said the journalist . . . ‘yep’ said the cyberchondriac . . . and that you are a very stupid man and a nuisance to your doctors?’ said the journalist . . . ‘yep’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘and that you are a miserable sod living in a constant state of despair . . . ‘yep’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘and that you are as mad as a rabbit?’ said the journalist . . . ‘yep’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘will you stop saying yep, you silly galah, and show a bit of spine by saying something to at least try and redeem yourself?’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘Okey dokey’ . . . .’stop being stupid and try and say something sensible; can you do that for once?’ . . . ‘yep’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘then what have you got to say for yourself?’ said the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all, the one who asked too many questions for his own good, usually one too many . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘how are you two silly galahs going to erase all of that very, very, very embarrassing bullshit from more than a hundred years of medical textbooks and newspapers?’.

100. ‘You know; you cannot criticise doctors in the brazen and forthright way that you do!’ said the pesky journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . ‘why not?’ said the cyberchondriac defiantly; are they privileged pets?’ . . . ‘nope’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the conversation continued . . . ‘are they sissy boys’ . . . ‘nope’ . . . ‘pampered pussycats’ . . . ‘nope’ . . . ‘cry baby sooks’ . . . ‘wrong again you silly galah’ said the pesky journalist’ . . . ‘then why not?’ said the cyberchondriac . . . and the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all said ‘because they are very intelligent people, and they can be provoked to anger and vindictiveness and could plot and scheme to bring about your undoing’ . . . ‘Aahh, head for the hills, let’s make a quick dash for home, dial 000, I need a police escort, aahh, hurry, hurry!!!’ said the panic stricken mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac . . . ‘but why?’ said the pesky journalist ‘didn’t you know that doctors could get angry and vindictive and have your guts for garters?’ . . . ‘Oh, yes, of course I did you silly galah’ said the cyberchondriac ‘but it has just started to ruddywell rain, and I’ve left my ruddy washing on the ruddy line.’

101. ‘Why did you read medical books and become a medical critic?’ said the pesky journalist to the cyberchondriac ‘do you think that you are some kind of genius or something?’ . . . ‘nope’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘do you think that you are ruddy clever or something?’ . . . ‘nope’ . . . are you some sort of philosopher?’ . . . ‘nope’ . . . are you a poet but you don’t even know it?’ said the pesky journalist . . . ‘that isn’t funny’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘Oh, I have had enough of this prattle; why did you do it?’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘er, um, I suppose necessity was the mother of my intentions’ . . . ‘Oh, I see, but couldn’t there have been a better way?’ said the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all, the one who asked too many questions for his own good, usually one too many . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘Oh, er, um, maybe; you tell me what it was Einstein.’

102. The crafty doctor, the pesky journalist, and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac became exhausted from their battle of brutality and bloodshed and decided to settle their differences with a joke contest. The crafty doctor said that he was confident of winning because his strength came from 6 years of university training, thirty years of medical experience, and 3000 years of accumulated knowledge in medical text books, and he could not imagine how anyone could know more funny things about life. The pesky journalist said that he was a shoe in because he could decide which information was or was not put into his newspaper, and that gave him complete control of the public mind, and he had already written his victory speech, and the only thing that matters in this world is what the public thinks, so he could not imagine how anyone could do anything about that. The mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac then said that he did not have any strengths, but he could win, maybe, perhaps, um, er, because anything is possible in this silly world, and um, er, ah, he had more imagination than the other two silly galahs put together, but it was very, very, very risky though b, b, because, i, i, if they tried to deny it, everyone in cyberworld would fall of their chairs and roll about laughing themselves silly b, b, before, sob, splutter, gasp, can someone get me a bucket for my tears; thankyou, you are so kind; b, b, before I g, g, get to t, t, tell my first joke.

103. ‘Doctors say that you are crazy for reading medical books and trying to cure your own ailments’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘I know, I know’ . . . ‘Why do they say that?’ said the pesky journalist ‘is it because it is true?’ . . . ‘nope’ . . . ‘scientifically proven?’ . . . ‘nope’ . . . ‘is it because psychiatrists say so?’ . . . ‘nope’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘then why do they say it ya silly galah?’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘Oh, I don’t know, maybe it is because it is their officially recognised diagnosis and they all toe the line’.

104. ‘You have to marvel at the way some people are so intelligent, and well educated, and have so much knowledge of anatomy, physiology, human beings, and society, and put so much thought and effort into trying to solve the mysterious problems effecting mankind, and they write so much, yet cure so little?’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘You evil man, you disgusting scurrilous, worthless, ungrateful ratbag, you should be ashamed of yourself for denigrating wonderful and respectable doctors like that’ . . . ‘Oh, boo, hoo, hoo said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac, can you get me a bucket for my tears; thankyou, that is just what I need a really big bucket, you heartless fiend, you are so unfair the way you always misjudge me; I was talking about myself.’

105. It was 2 o’clock in the morning when the cyberchondriac awoke with strong pain in his left side. He waited for it to go away but after a couple of hours it got worse so he called his doctor. The doctor arrived sometime later and as he entered the unlocked front door he passed the furry cat which was purring on the layback chair, the one that the cyberchondriac often laid back in to relieve his bellyache and neckache, and then he passed the coffee table which the cyberchondriac used to put things on to avoid bending all the way to the floor, and then he passed the bookshelves with the 300 books in them without noticing that they were all medical text books, and the shelves which had the bottles of ginko for memory, and multivitamins to provide essential nutrients which might have been missing from a semivegitarian diet. He then passed by the cage which housed a feathered critter which should have had a vocabulary of more than 40,000 words (approximately 30,000 of which were newly defined swear words), and he nudged by the hat stand which had a hat with a broad brim to shield the cyberchondriac from the sun and prevent recurrences of skin cancers of the ears and face, and a belt which the cyberchondriac avoided wearing because it tended to cause bellyache, and the thermal T-shirt which he wore to protect himself from cold breezes which tended to cause kidney aches, and the monkey puppet which he used as a comedy prop. The doctor then entered the bedroom to see the complaining patient and after a brief examination he said ‘Oh, I can’t see anything wrong with you; take this sleeping tablet and if you still have pain in the morning phone the clinic and I will examine you again.’ ‘Okey dokey, thanks doc’ said the cyberchondriac. On the way out the doctor muttered ‘bloody pest’, and slammed the front door shut. The following day the cyberchondriac awoke in pain, with nausea and vomiting and cold sweats, but persevered. Meanwhile the doctor returned to work and finished at 5 p.m. and spent the evening at a cocktail party where he had a bit too much to eat and drink. At 2 a.m. the next morning he received a phone call from the cyberchondriac advising him that the pain was worse so he made another house call. As he opened the front door, he entered and passed by the chair and the book shelves, etc, muttering to himself ‘bloody pest’ and then he opened the hermetically sealed bedroom door and when he entered the carpeted and insulated room the cyberchondriac said ‘I feel terrible with pain and nausea doc; what is wrong with me?’. After a brief examination the doctor said ‘I know what is wrong with you now, you have got a kidney stone which produces the most severe pain known to man’. ‘Thankyou doc’, said the cyberchondriac for confirming his suspicions with an unusually useful diagnosis. The doctor then gave him a painkilling injection and said ‘if you still have pain in the morning phone the clinic and I will arrange a pyelogram.’ . . . So as not to offend the doctors intellectual sensitivities the cyberchondriac played dumb and said ‘what is a pyelothingamejig doc’ and the doctor explained in a fatherly tone of voice using baby talk that your average two year old could understand ‘Oh, that is a special x-ray that we give to see if the kidneys are working properly’. ‘Thankyou for telling me that doc’, said the cyberchondriac who was very grateful. He then said by the way doc, you are not looking so good yourself and my place has been a bit untidy lately so take care on the way out buddy.’ Okey dokey’ said the doctor. As the doctor passed through the bedroom door he stubbed his toe on the door jamb in the same way that the cyberchondriac had done many times before without breaking it, although he did injury it badly once, but that did not show up on an x-ray anyway. However, the doctor broke his toe the first time, and then he toppled and nearly poked his eye out on one of the prongs of the hat stand, and then he staggered and fell over the coffee table which the cyberchondriac had done many times before without harm, but the doctor broke his shin bone in three places. As he fell toward the floor he slammed his head on top of the grill of the metal oil heater, in the same way that they cyberchondriac had three weeks earlier and stunned himself senseless, but the doctor cracked his thin skull, and when he hit the floor blood spilled from his left ear onto the carpet which the cyberchondriac had vacuumed only the previous week and spent a day recovering from the bellyache and dizziness caused by all that stooping. The doctor then layed on the flat of his back staring at the ceiling just as the cyberchondriac had done for up to 20 hours a day for years and years and years trying to solve the problems that no-one else could solve for him, and after a few seconds the doctor said ‘help, help, I’ve got a broken toe, a broken leg, and a cracked skull, and I’m bleeding from my ear, and I very, very, very, desperately need help urgently, will somebody please call an ambulance’ . . . and the parrot said ‘bloody pest, bloody pest.’

106. ‘If you are always complaining that doctors write so much amusing nonsense about you in their textbooks, like trying to convince people that you must be mad for reading them, then why do you read them?’ said the pesky journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘because, you know what they say; laughter is the best medicine’ . . . ‘Aha!!!’ said the pesky journalist; so you agree with them when they say that laughter is the best medicine?’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘certainly not, but it comes a close second to medical knowledge’

107. ‘Did you know that according to the medical text books the symptoms of hypochondria are caused by anxiety and depression?’ said the journalist to the cyberchondriac . . . ‘Of course I did, you silly gallah; why do you ask?’ said the cyberchondriac . . . ‘then why aren’t you anxious and depressed?’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘well, I knew what was written in the text books; but nobody told me it was compulsory.’

108. ‘The pesky journalist said ‘what do patients do when they have been abandoned by their doctors, chewed up and spat out, and branded for life; do they cry, do they worry, do they get depressed, do they go mad, do they commit suicide, or do they read medical books and try to cure their own illness?’ . . . ‘Don’t bother me with your pesky questions now’ said the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac ‘I’m too busy writing doctor jokes.’

109. ‘Why do doctors think that hypochondriacs are afraid of disease?.’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac replied ‘I don’t know, I’m just a normal bloke; I’m not a ruddy mind reader.’

110. Question: What do you call a hypochondriac who reads medical text books and still has a forgiving attitude toward doctors? . . . Answer: Saint Hypiac.

111. The cyberchondriac said to the pesky journalist ‘What do you call an arrogant doctor who fails to explain or cure a patients illness in a believable or effective way, and then tries his hardest to discourage that patient from reading medical literature in an attempt to diagnose and treat their own condition?’ . . . and the pesky journalist replied in a puzzled voice ‘I don’t know; what do you call him?’ . . . and the cyberchondriac replied ‘Bunny brain’ . . . ‘but why? what has an arrogant doctors brain got in common with a silly bunny’s brain?’ said the pesky journalist . . . and the mild mannered 21st century cyberchondriac said ‘Don’t ask me, I only read medical text books, and if you expect me to start reading vet books just to answer your pesky ruddy questions you must have rocks in your head.’

112. ‘Doctors say that patients who try to cure their own illness by reading medical books are crazy’ said the pesky journalist to the cyberchondriac ‘what do you think of that?’ . . . ‘Oh, I think that doctors who say that must be crazy’ said the cyberchondriac . . . and the journalist replied ‘I suppose you are one of those types who thinks that it is not you that is crazy; it is the rest of the world?’ . . . ‘certainly not’ said the cyberchondriac ‘but if a patient goes to a doctor time after time after time and doesn’t get a cure, and the doctor expects them to keep going back and keep paying a fee for ever and ever, then that doctor must be crazy.’

113. Bilko the clown died so a down and out hunchbacked bow-legged man who had one leg shorter than the other applied for his job. Everybody laughed at everything he did so he became the happiest and most successful clown in the circus. One day he staggered into the local doctors clinic and said “you’ve gotta help me doc – I’ve got neck ache and back ache and pains in my hips, knees, and ankles, and when I go for a walk I get sore feet and my toes hurt, and when I sit in a chair I get pains in my chest, and pains in my stomach, and my kidneys ache, and I’m feeling weary and sick”. The doctor then said reassuringly “Look, if you was as sick as you say you are, you would have been dead years ago, but you’re not, and you appear to be in perfect health” so I think I know what is wrong with you; you look sad, so your symptoms must be caused by depression – I recommend laughter therapy!!!”.

114. The Hypochondriac’s Undisputed Contract of Agreement (the one with the fine print – the very finest print of them all) . . . The hypochondriac said to the doctor “OK doc; you say that there is absolutely nothing wrong with me and that all of my symptoms are completely imaginary?” . . . “Certainly” said the very, very confident doctor . . . “Allright then” said the hypochondriac “then you won’t mind signing this little agreement that I have drawn up” . . . “What am I agreeing to?” said the puzzled doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied . . . “Well, just briefly, I am going to start reading medical books, and if I find out that there really is something wrong with me, and if I can’t cure it, and go on to lead a life of sickness, deprivation, and poverty, and if I deteriorate into a state of worry, depression, madness, or suicide, then you will quite happily pay me full financial compensation for any of those outcomes without me having to go to the trouble of dealing with the delays, complications, and expenses of legal action”. . . “Oh! I can’t sign that!” said the doctor . . . “But why not?” said the puzzled hypochondriac . . . “I just can’t!!!” said the doctor . . . “OK” said the mystified hypochondriac “Let me get this straight; I am supposed to let YOU make this decision, and you want ME to take ‘All’ of the responsibility for the consequences” . . . “Certainly” said the doctor apprehensively, but why did you draw up such a contract if you know that I would never, never, ever sign it” . . . “No particular reason”, said the hypochondriac reassuringly “I just wanted to get the facts straight”.

115. 300 years ago doctors thought that 300 symptoms were imaginary and then they invented microscopes, and 200 years ago they thought that 200 symptoms were imaginary and then they invented x-rays, and 100 years ago they thought that 100 symptoms were imaginary and since then they have invented CAT scans, MRI machines, and camera pills. “How many symptoms do you reckon you will think are imaginary by the end of this year doc?” said the curious hypochondriac . . . After noticing the doctor trembling with fear and breaking out into a nervous sweat the hypochondriac said reassuringly “Don’t worry doc; you can always hope for a J-curve.”

116. What does a doctor with an IQ of 120 say to a hypochondriac with an IQ of 130 about his symptoms being real or not . . . “Well, um, er, um, Oh yes, um, maybe, perhaps, um er, Uh Oh!!!”

117. Farmer Bill was sitting in his rocking chair under his verandah when a crop dusting plane flew over his neighbours farm and deposited its pesticide dust on the wheat crop when a sudden gust of wind blew the dust over his fence. The dust landed on his house and all the land around it. A few months later his wife became ill, and his children developed skin rashes and sore eyes and then he started getting the same problems. A week later his wife became dizzy and collapsed so he called the doctor. When the doctor arrived he explained the events with the dust a few months earlier but the doctor said that he did not think that the dust was responsible for the families illnesses and that they were probably due to the summer drought and allergies. A week later farmer Bill asked the government chemical inspector to call and when he arrived he explained the crop dusting incident and the family illnesses and took him down to the farm dam about 100 yards away and told him that the dust landed in the dam and that since then all the fish and yabbies had died, and all the sheep and cows which drank from the dam died, and all the birds and lizards had fallen out of the tree near the dam and died, and that the tree then died and birds and wildlife have not been seen in the vicinity since. The inspector said that he did not think that the dust was responsible and that the problems were probably related to changes in the weather. A week later farmer Bill was mowing the greens of the local golf course when he rode over a hill and saw the doctor and the government inspector playing a game with the owner of the local chemical company. The inspector said “Hello farmer Bill” and the doctor then said “How are your skin rashes and your sore eyes?” and farmer Bill replied “Oh! I can see clearly now”.

118. What is the difference between a doctor, a psychiatrist, a scientist, and a hypochondriac . . . All the doctor wants to do is give an opinion, and all the psychiatrist wants to do is talk, and all the scientist wants to do is gather statistics, and all the hypochondria wants is a cure.

119. “Why don’t you stop telling jokes about doctors and take life more seriously?” said the psychiatrist to the hypochondriac . . . and the hypochondriac replied ” because my doctor said that I was taking life TOO seriously!”. . . “Are you trying to be smart with me?” said the psychiatrist . . . “Certainly not” said the hypochondriac “I’m just trying to be one of those magician fellas, but I can’t figure out how to please all of the people all of the time”.

120. “Why don’t you find something else to write jokes about besides doctors?” said the journalist to the hypochondriac . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Well, it’s like this; if I try to write jokes about other things I have to look for material, think about what I am going to say, and experiment with ways of making it sound funny, and that can take a lot of time, often to no avail, but if I want to write jokes about doctors I don’t have to try, because all I have to do is get sick, and then find out that the illness is not evident on an x-ray, and then ask a doctor for his opinion, and I’ve got enough material to write jokes for a century” . . . “What a load of rubbish” said the sceptical journalist; “you must be exaggerating!” . . . “I am not!” said the defiant hypochondriac “and I will give you one example; A man who was as innocent as a new born lamb was driving his car when he was duty bound to stop at a stop light. Shortly after, a stolen vehicle which was being driven by an unlicensed drunk slammed into his rear end. A few hours later the man, who was as pure as the driven snow, awoke in hospital and staggered out of bed with blood pissing out of three major arteries and limped to the doctors rooms where he said “What happened doc, I’m numb in both arms and I’ve got a pain in my neck and an agonising migraine?” . . . The doctor replied “Listen sport, I’ve just got your x-ray; Look at it; there is not a bloody thing wrong with you; you are just one of those whinging ruddy hypochondriacs, and a greedy compo bludger to boot; get out, and by the way, on your way out clean up the blood all over the wall you lazy bastard” . . . The pesky journalist then said; “so what you are saying is that people exaggerate the value of x-rays?” . . . “No I am not; you silly gallah!!!” said the infuriated hypochondriac; “I’m saying that doctors do”.

121. A doctor and a hypochondriac met by chance in a country pub and both got so drunk that they lost their inhibitions and found themselves in a contest to see who could dish out the best insults. After a coin was tossed the doctor went first by saying “You are a lazy, whinging, nutty-as-a-fruit cake ruddy nuisance!!!” and then it was the hypochondriacs turn, so he said “I must have heard that stupid tripe 1000 times before from your average two-bit quack; Try this for size; You silly gallahs are sulky, sooky, brats living in a land of denial, and you can’t admit to being wrong about anything because you are neurotically deranged about your prissy public image, and you have to make yourselves look good by having the last word on everything, but as far as I am concerned you are all just one big swarm of annoying pests”. The infuriated doctor then stood up and towered over the hypochondriac in a threatening manner and said “Oh yeh; that’s nothing; Tell me something that I don’t know; you dopey bastard”.

122. Journalist to hypochondriac: “How do doctors react when you complain about your symptoms?”. . . Hypochondriacs reply “Oh, you know, in the usual ways; they worry a lot, or get depressed, frustrated, angry or hostile”.

123. A joke about doctors who tell lies: A contest was held to find which doctor could tell the funniest joke; The first doctor said that he had been working for a factory for 30 years and found that repetitive strain injury was a brand new disease; The second doctor said that he had been working for the army for 40 years and discovered that Agent Orange was safe enough to drink; The third doctor said that he had been working for a tobacco company for 50 years and had discovered that nicotine was not chemically addictive; The fourth doctor, and third place getter in the contest said that he and his father, and his grandfather, all the way back to his great, great, great grandfather had all studied chronic fatigue and he concluded that it was just tiredness; The fifth doctor, and second place getter in this auspicious contest said that he had a patient who read medical books because he did not trust doctors and that he was as nutty as a fruitcake; Finally the sixth doctor, judged ultimate winner of the contest by an independent panel of judges said “Knock knock – who’s there – Doctor Who!!!”

124. “Did you hear the one about the doctor who claimed that patients who surf the internet for information about their own health were suffering from a thought disorder?” said the cyberchondriac to the journalist . . . and the journalist replied “No, I didn’t; what happened?” . . . “Oh, he only made one mistake” said the cyberchondriac . . . “And what was that?” said the journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied “He posted his opinion on the web!!!” . . . “Uh Oh! that was a bit of a mistake wasn’t it?” said the journalist . . . and the cyberchondriac replied “No; that was the mother of all mistakes!!!” .

125 Three men met in the local pub for a bravery contest . . . The first one was a carpenter who spent his weekends performing as a clown in the circus and he said “I once put my head completely inside the mouths of 10 starving lions” . . . the second man was an accountant who spent his weekends as a life guard at the local beach and he said “I once dived into a pool of a thousand hungry sharks” . . . and the third man was a doctor who spent his weekends acting as body guard for champion wrestler ‘Gilbert the Gorilla’ and he said “I think that patients who surf the internet to get information about their own illnesses are suffering from a thought disorder and I once posted my opinion on the web where millions of them can see it”.

126. 50,000 people entered a competition to find who was the bravest person in the entire universe and after all of the auditions and heats had finished only three contestants remained . . . the first man was a pastry cook who ate his own cooking, and the second man was a doctor who said that patients who surf the internet to get information about their own health problems were suffering from a thought disorder, and then he posted his opinion on the web, and the third man was a cyberchondriac who suffered from a lot of ailments and became a merciless medical critic . . . The pastry cook was unanimously declared to be the winner and when receiving his trophy he turned to the chief judge and said “I feel so humble winning this event, but why didn’t those other two deserving finalists win?” and the judge replied “because they entered the wrong contest” . . . “How so?” said the curious cook and the judge replied “This competition was to determine who was the bravest man in the universe; not the stupidest!!!”

127. A man was riding along a country track when he fell off his horse and tumbled down a steep ravine and landed in a stagnant mosquito infested pond. He had two broken legs, three fractured ribs, and a cracked skull, and soon developed malaria which spread to his brain causing meningitis. A month later a passing traveller rescued him and carried him on the back of a rickety old cart up and down rocky mountains for a hundred and fifty miles to the nearest doctor . . . “You’ve gotta help me doc, you’ve gotta, you’ve gotta” said the desperate man . . . “But I can’t do that” said the doctor “because can’t see anything wrong with you” . . . “But why? why?, oh why???” said the pain racked patient . . . and the doctor replied “Because, you silly hypochondriac, this is only the fifteenth century and we haven’t invented microscopes yet, and x-rays are only a figment of the village idiots vivid imagination.”

128. “Why do doctors write jokes about hypochondriacs?” said the pesky journalist . . . “How would I know?” said the puzzled hypochondriac “I’m not a ruddy doctor!!!”.

129. “I have come to the conclusion that you think you are sick because you have got a very vivid imagination” said the doctor to the hypochondriac, and the hypochondriac replied “Doc; I have come to the conclusion that you think I am healthy because you have got a very vivid imagination!!!”

130. The doctor told the hypochondriac that he had finally determined the very mysterious cause of his problems with illness and pain. He said “I think that they are due to a deep-seated psychological problem which relates to suppressed hostility and that all you need for a cure is to express that pent up aggression in some physical way”. The hypochondriac then stood up and punched the doctor in the nose and said “Aaaah, aaaah, aaaaah, oouuuch ouch ouch, my fist h h h h uuuurts”.

131. 4,700 people posted jokes about hypochondriacs on the internet so one day a hypochondriac decided to post a joke himself. “Did you hear the one about the 4,700 sick comedians”.

132. An extensive search throughout the universities of the world located the genius with the most powerful brain in all of history. He was then given the task of solving the most mysterious problem of all; hypochondria. After 10 years of studying medicine, history, and statistics he had absolutely no idea what caused the problem but he was able to establish that there was a man in the nineteenth century who claimed to have had 200 illnesses but was killed in a train crash at the age of 60. However, he also discovered that a twentieth century man claimed to have suffered from 300 illnesses, but he was killed in a plane crash at the age of 50, and the genius considered him to be the most prolific hypochondriac in history. One day in 2004 he received a phone call from a man who said that he could scientifically prove that he had had 100 illnesses and that this made him the most prolific hypochondriac in history. “How can you say that???” said the puzzled genius, “when a nineteenth century man claimed to have 200 illnesses, and a twentieth century man claimed to have 300, but you say you have only had 100???” . . . “Tsk, tsk, tsk” said the hypochondriac “that is the trouble with you geniuses; you’ve got no imagination” . . . “What do you mean???” said the mystified genius . . . and the hypochondriac replied “because I’m not dead yet, and I’m only 40”.

133. The doctor concluded that the hypochondriacs symptoms were caused by depression and that all he needed to gain a cure was to have a happier outlook on life. The hypochondriac argued about that so the doctor challenged him to a contest to see who could tell the funniest story by the following Monday. A week later the doctor presented the hypochondriac with a 100 page book of his best jokes, but after reading them he said “None of them are funny to me”. The doctor then said “Oh yeh; what jokes have you written???” and the hypochondriac replied “None” . . . “Why not?” said the doctor . . . “Well” said the hypochondriac “Tuesday I sat at the desk but when I leaned forward to write my first joke I got a bellyache. Wednesday I tried standing up and started writing again but got a backache, and Thursday I tried sitting on a high stool to write but I got a neckache . . . Friday I stood on my head and tried typing with my toes” . . . The extremely frustrated doctor then interrupted and said “will you stop being funny and tell me a joke”.

134. In a final act of desperation the doctor fell to his knees with his hands raised, and in a wailing and pleading tone of voice he said to the hypochondriac “Why, why, Oh why won’t you believe me; If you don’t believe me soon I may have to see a psychiatrist!” . . . “Don’t worry Doc, said the compassionate hypochondriac; you’re not nutty; but look at this from my point of view; my body tells me that I’m in pain when I’m in pain, but you tell me that I can’t be in pain when I am in pain, and that my pain is caused by anxiety when I’m not anxious; Who would you believe???”.

135. The psychiatrist believed that hypochondriacs had deep seated psychological problems related to a fear of disease and death. However, one day with a sudden spur of revolutionary thought he decided to actually ask one of his patients why he read medical books when everybody else simply asked their doctor, a health expert, to answer their questions. The hypochondriac was very concerned about the puzzled expression on the bewildered psychiatrists face, so with a compassionate tone of voice he replied “Look sport; if I was given a dollar every time a doctor said ‘I don’t know the cause of your symptoms’; I’d be a ruddy millionaire.”

136. Three men walked into a pub and sat at the bar. The first one was a doctor who told the barman that he had attended to 50 patients that day and was under stress so he said “I need to relax; could you please get me a nice cold beer and a packet of potato chips?”. The second man was a psychiatrist who said that he had just had a very tough day and that if he did not get some strong medicine quick he would go as nutty as his patients and added “could you get me a glass of whiskey and a packet of cigarettes?”. The third man was a hypochondriac who said that he had just told his specialist that he had an ache behind his breastbone and he was told that he would need to pay $30,000 to have his chest sliced open with a bone saw, and a blood vessel cut out of his leg and stapled to his heart, and he added “could you please get me a glass of water and an apple?”.

137. The doctor had just purchased a brand new stethoscope, a new otoscope, and a new state of the art cardiograph. He then built a new room on the side of his clinic and a Mack truck delivered the latest x-ray machine, a CAT scan, and an MRI machine, and then the doctor built another room on top of his clinic to house a biochemical laboratory and the latest camera pill facilities. At the grand opening of these renovations a journalist said “and what do you hope to accomplish by all of this magnificent highly advanced scientific equipment doc?” . . . and the doctor replied “the next time that ruddy hypochondriac comes here and starts arguing with me I’ll be ready for him” . . . “What hypochondriac?” said the puzzled journalist . . . Just then a bare footed hypochondriac walked through the front door with a trail of blood streaming from his big toe and the doctor fainted.

138. After reading a few text books the young psychiatrist concluded that the symptoms of hypochondria must be caused by a psychological disorder so to determine a scientifically consistent aspect of the mind which might be responsible he started interviewing a large number of patients. He said to the first patient “I think that your symptom might be due to fear; are you afraid of disease and death?”. . . “Certainly” said the hypochondriac “I’m terrified day and night!!!” . The psychiatrist then said to the second patient “I think that depression is the cause of your symptoms; are you unhappy?” . . . “Certainly” said the hypochondriac “everything about my life is miserable; you could have guessed right”. The psychiatrist then said to the third patient “I am beginning to think that your symptoms may be caused by fear; what do you think?” . . . and the hypochondriac began to smirk so the psychiatrist said “or perhaps depression” and the hypochondriac began to giggle and fell to the floor and writhed about in agony from chest cramps and the psychiatrist said “When will you start showing a little bit of self control over your emotions?”. . . and the hypochondriac replied “When you stop asking stupid ruddy questions I will stop laughing uncontrollably”.

139. One day a journalist decided to do an article on public opinion about doctors so he went to the university library to study the official records of the most respected medical statisticians in the country. On the way he tripped over a curb and banged his head on a slab of concrete and got the bright idea of asking the man in the street. The first man said that he had only ever had one health problem and that a doctor had saved his life, and he ended the interview by saying that all doctors were wonderful. The second man had been treated by a doctor for back pain and became addicted to painkillers. He said that it was his own fault that he became addicted and that he was really really depressed about it. The third man had surgery and ended up with complications and pain which took years to recover from, and he said that all doctors were idiots who deserved to be lined up against a wall and shot. He was extremely hostile and continued to rant “they were all a menace to society; and good riddance to bad rubbish”. The fourth man was a mild mannered hypochondriac who did not have enough energy to leap to rushed conclusions, and who could run faster than a speeding Galapagos tortoise, and whose brain was more powerful than an electron microscope and made more sense than statistics in a fraction of a second, and he said “I’ve had many many illnesses over a period of many many years; I’ve’ had the best of treatment; I’ve had the worst of treatment; and I’ll tell ya wot sport; when doctors are good they are very very good, and when they are bad they are very very bad!!!”.

140. On 19-1-2004 Edward De bono was guest speaker on ABC TV’s National Press Club Luncheon where he said that most intelligent people such as lawyers were so clever at defending their own silly ideas that they were incapable of thinking constructively, like doctors. He gave the example of how 20% of hospital beds were filled with peptic ulcer patients who were being treated with antacids and stomach surgery for 20 years before a Perth doctor suggested that perhaps the ulcers were caused by a bacteria. Other doctors laughed at him and said that such a thing was impossible because the stomach acid would kill all bacteria. However the Perth doctor persisted with his idea and nowadays peptic ulcers are treated with antibiotics and cured within a week. He therefore said that doctors should enter politics because their ability to think laterally would enable them to run countries more efficiently. Statistically that means that 20 % of the population will be happy with their prime minister for the next 20 years, and then, when another disease is cured it will be 40%, and in 100 years we will all be happy. Unfortunately it also means that for the next 99.99 years some of us will have to put up with another 99.99% of silliness; if we live that long?!!!

141. On 19-1-2005 Edward De bono, the world’s leading expert on creative thought, was guest speaker on Australia’s ABC TV’s National Press Club Luncheon where he said that most intelligent people such as lawyers were so clever at defending their own silly ideas that they were incapable of thinking constructively, like doctors. He gave the example of how 20% of hospital beds were filled with peptic ulcer patients who were being treated with antacids and stomach surgery for 20 years before a Perth doctor thought that perhaps the ulcers were caused by a bacteria. Other doctors laughed at him and said that such a thing was impossible because the stomach acid would kill all bacteria. However the Perth doctor persisted with his idea and nowadays peptic ulcers are treated with antibiotics and cured within a week. Everyone at the luncheon applauded Edward Debono’s interesting and useful anecdote about the value of lateral thinking, and the problem of resistance, and the need for persistence in the development of new ideas.
After leaving the meeting he suddenly got the bright idea that hypochondriacs had a reputation for having very vivid imaginations so he decided to ask one of them how to think in the hope of getting some new ideas. A short time later he found one and said “OK you snivelling, fearful, sympathy seeking hypochondriac, tell me how you come up with all of those ideas that your symptoms are real” . . . “Well”, said the hypochondriac “all you need is the courage to think, and the courage to speak” . . . “Explain yourself” said Edward Debono . . . “OK” said the hypochondriac “I’ll tell you a story; Once upon a time in a land far, far, far away, a man got shot in battle and his wound never healed so a doctor could see the inside of his stomach. He soon noticed that whenever the man was under stress his stomach lining turned pink. Then came the idea that a lot of stress would produce a lot of acid which would bore through the stomach lining to cause peptic ulcers, and later still, another idea that the ulcers could be cured by psychotherapy for one hour, once a week, for 20 years” . . . “I’m sure that my readers will find that very interesting” said Edward De bono, the world famous author of books on creative thought . . . “I’m very pleased about that” said the hypochondriac “Now all they need is the courage to think – – – and the courage to speak!!!”.

142. “I’ve finally figured out what is wrong with your extremely complicated and mysterious mind” said the doctor to the hypochondriac with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . “That’s good doc; I’m very very pleased about that; is it the same thing that was wrong with the minds of those peptic ulcer patients before your cured them with those new fangled antibiotics?”.

143. One day Edward Debono was walking through the park when he met the hypochondriac with the world’s most vivid imagination and he said “Hello, my name is Edward Debono; I’m the world’s greatest expert on lateral thinking” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Howdy sport; what can I do for you?”

144. One day Edward Debono was walking through the mall when he met the hypochondriac with the world’s most vivid imagination and he said “Hello, my name is Edward Debono; I’m the world’s greatest expert on creative thought; have you ever considered using lateral thinking to solve your problems?” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Look sport; that wouldn’t be good enough for me” . . . “But why not?” said the extremely puzzled Edward Debono . . . and the hypochondriac replied “because I’ve got so many problems that if I ever hope to solve them all I will have to think sideways, frontwards, backwards, and even standing on my head if necessary!!!”.

145. The doctor with the world’s most powerful photographic memory and an IQ of 120 was looking at an x-ray when he said to the hypochondriac “Listen to me; I have studied 2000 years of medical literature and from everything I know and everything that I can see before me today there is no evidence of disease, so I am convinced that there is absolutely nothing wrong with you; and I am as certain of that as I am that the sun rises in the east at dawn and goes down in the west at dusk!” . . . and the hypochondriac with the worlds most vivid imagination and an IQ of 130 replied “Look doc; all I’ve got is experience and brains; and when I did my IQ test I scored poorly in the memory section; but I gained the perfect score in comprehension and geometric rotations; and I am as sure that the sun doesn’t actually move the way you say it does as I am that you haven’t cured anything yet”.

146. “How do you turn a disadvantage into an advantage?” said the sarcastic pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all, to the hypochondriac, the one with the very very vivid imagination, and the hypochondriac replied “Why ask me; haven’t you got an imagination of your own!”

147. Question; What is the difference between a doctor with an IQ of 250, and a hypochondriac with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . Answer = WMVI – 250.

148. Three men met in a pub for a contest to see who was the toughest of them all. The first one was a doctor who said that he once put a rope between his teeth and towed a jumbo jet for 100 yards. The second one was a journalist who said “That’s nothing; I once jumped into a river with 50 man eating crocodiles and drowned the lot of them!!!”. The third one was a hypochondriac who said “That’s not tough; I’ve been insulted and ridiculed by 50 million people and I’m still laughing”.

149. With the doctor and psychiatrist hiding behind a cupboard door the journalist crept out and said to the hypochondriac with the vivid imagination, “If we stop insulting your intelligence will you stop writing jokes about us?” . . . “Well, um, er, um, hmmmmm” said the hypochondriac “With you 3 silly gallahs displaying imagination of that magnitude I’ll certainly have to think about it”.

150. The journalist left the newspaper building and entered cyberworld and said to the cyberchondriac “You’ve gotta help me, you’ve gotta” . . . “and how can I help?” said the puzzled cyberchondriac . . . and the journalist replied “I’m trying to find free speech!” . . . “But why said the cyberchondriac “I didn’t think that you gave a dam about free speech?” . . . “Of course; I never ever did” said the pesky journalist . . . “Then why do you care so desperately now?” said the extremely puzzled cyberchondriac . . . and the pesky journalist replied “Because it’s escaped from it’s cage!!!”

151. “What is your secret to living a long and happy life?” said the sarcastic pesky journalist to the hypochondriac with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . “Well sport” said the hypochondriac “you have to know when to listen to doctors; and when to ignore the silly gallahs”.

152. Did you hear about the doctor who criticised a hypochondriac for having an overactive imagination; He didn’t have enough imagination to know how much trouble he was creating for himself!!!”

153. “I’ve looked at your blood tests and your x-rays and I must say that I cannot see anything which would explain your symptoms” said the doctor to the hypochondriac with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Listen doc; you mean well; and I like your for that; but you just haven’t got any imagination at all”.

154. In an exasperated attempt to understand the mysterious mind of the hypochondriac the doctor said “By the way; what medical books have you been reading?” . . . and the hypochondriac with the world’s most vivid imagination said “The same medical books that you read Doc” . . . “Then why don’t you believe everything I say?” said the puzzled doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Because I don’t believe everything I read”.

155. “If you have got so many symptoms then how come you are not dead yet?” said the doctor to the hypochondriac with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . “I don’t know doc; I suppose it is the same reason why billions of people with other diseases aren’t dead yet; you know; the ones with asthma, arthritis; would you like me to got through the alphabet all the way to Z?”.

156. “If you have so many health problems why can’t I see evidence of them on x-rays?” said the doctor to the hypochondriac with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . “I don’t know doc; I suppose it is the same reason that you have a brain between your ears but I can’t see it with my eyes; would you like me to leap to conclusions?”.

157. “What do you do to doctors who tell jokes about hypochondriacs ?” said the pesky journalist to the hypochondriac with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . and the hypochondriac replied “I give them a daily dose of their own medicine”.

158. “I am a highly qualified doctor with decades of experience and I’ve read all the latest medical journals and medical text books; why do you question my opinion?” said the doctor to the hypochondriac with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Because I have read medical history books and history repeats itself”.

159. “Did you read about the doctor who said that one day new discoveries might prove that some of our widely accepted ideas may be proven wrong by exciting new medical discoveries, and it might turn out that we are the nutty ones, not our patients?” said the hypochondriac to the doctor . . . “No I didn’t” said the curious doctor “Where did you read that?” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “In a 200 year old medical book”.

161. “Did you know that you can get yourself into very serious trouble if you alienate a lot of important and powerful people?” said the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all, to the hypochondriac with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . The hypochondriac fell over backwards and after reeling around on the floor in shock for half an hour he staggered to his feet and said “Tell me again buddy, word for ruddy word, so that I don’t make any mistake about it; You reckon that ‘I’ will get into big trouble if ‘I’ alienate ‘THEM’“.

165. The world’s very very best mathematician met a hypochondriac in the local park and said “a doctor and a very very pesky journalist have asked me to challenge you to a contest. “Okey Dokey” said the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . and then the mathematician handed him a 100 page book containing 96 pages of formula and said “It took me only 30 minutes to find the answer; I bet you can’t solve the problem that quick” . . . “I think I might be able to” said the hypochondriac “can I use those spare pages in the back . . . “Certainly” said the very very helpful mathematician, and he added sympathetically “but I think you will need more than that sport” . . . and the hypochondriac tore out the four blank pages and said “I would like you to put the number one on two of them, and the number two on the other two, and then make the number 2121, and I reckon it is a fair bet that if I come back here next week; you still won’t be able to put two and two together”.

166. Three men met in the park for a contest to see who could solve the most problems in a week. The first was a pesky journalist who said “I will probably win because I have access to all of the knowledge in every newspaper going all the way back to the invention of the printing press” . . . The second was a doctor who said “I am confident about this because I have the advantage of everything that modern medical science has to offer” . . . The third was a hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination, and he said “all I have is a computer and the internet, and if you two silly gallahs can’t do something to cure my chronic laugh, I don’t stand a ruddy chance”.

167. Three men met in the park for a contest to see who could solve problems most efficiently. The first was a doctor who said “I am going to try to cure pancreatitis which is affecting an important Australian politician, and I am going to get assistance from a team of medical scientists.” The second was a psychiatrist who said “I am going to try to construct a road map of the human mind in an attempt to understand its mysteries, and I will get a team of map makers to help me.” The third man was a hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination, and he said “Sorry chaps, but but I won’t be able to join you in this contest because I am too busy trying to solve my own problems; and it looks like I will have to do it all by my ruddy self.”

168. Question: How did the hypochondriac with the world’s most vivid imagination solve more problems in a single day than Albert Einstein did in a whole lifetime, and a team of psychiatrists in an entire century . . . Answer; Einstein used 10% of his brain capacity and 90% sweat; the team of psychiatrists vaporised 90% of their mind power when they walked on a path of hot coals which was built by the world champion blacksmith; and the hypochondriac; the one who learnt from his own mistakes when he was young, and other peoples mistakes when he was old, used 99% of his brainpower while relaxing on the trapeze artists safety net inside of the village idiots air-conditioned circus tent.

169. “I suppose you have a conspiracy theory?” said the pesky journalist; the peskiest of them all; the one who asked too many questions for his own good; usually one too many . . . and the puzzled hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination replied “What makes you think that there is more than one of me?”.

170. “Do you really expect doctors to admit that they are wrong?” said the sarcastic pesky journalist to the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Doctors are always admitting that they were wrong” said the hypochondriac “in every ruddy page in every ruddy book I read” . . . “What silly books do you read you silly gallah?” said the puzzled pesky journalist . . . and the hypochondriac replied “History books.”

171.”You are only one in a million so what makes you think that you can match wits with the very, very best doctors in the world and succeed?” said the pesky journalist; the one with no imagination of his own . . . and the hypochondriac replied “You really haven’t got any imagination at all, have you?” . . . “What do you mean?” said the puzzled pesky journalist; the one who needed urgent help comprehending the bleeding obvious . . . and the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination replied “How can you expect a few thousand conservative thinkers to match wits with a million vivid imaginations?”

172. “You always seem to be in some sort of conflict with doctors; what do they need to resolve these issues?” said the pesky journalist; the one who had absolutely no imagination of his own; the one who always needed help in seeing the bleeding obvious . . . and the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination said “A doctor with a university degree in conflict resolution; I suppose” . . . “But will that really, really, really and truly help?” said the sarcastic pesky journalist – – – (Will somebody please send that silly gallah a ‘no longer needed’ but still functioning imagination – URGENTLY!!!).

173. “We are amongst the most educated people on the planet, and have access to the most sophisticated scientific statistics and diagnostic instruments known to man so what makes you think that you can question our opinion?” said the doctor to the hypochondriac . . . “Why are you asking me doc?” said the hypochondriac “am I the only one around here with enough imagination to give you an answer?”

174. “You know, if you keep telling jokes about doctors they might tell jokes about you” said the pesky journalist, the peskiest of them all . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Why? what is going on around here; is this a case of joke versus joke versus joke?”

175. “I think that your doctor jokes are becoming very very boring; isn’t it about time you learnt a new trick?” said the sarcastic pesky journalist to the hypochondriac . . . and the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination said “Did you hear the one about the pesky journalist; the peskiest of them all; the one who didn’t have enough sense to know when to keep his silly mouth shut” . . . “if you didn’t it is a fair bet that the sound was drowned out by all of those doctors who were sighing with relief.”

176. “Did you hear the one about the pesky journalist; the peskiest of them all; the one who went begging for trouble; He got more than he could carry; 2 truck loads.”

177. “Why don’t you trust everything that we respectable, scientifically trained doctors tell you?” said the doctor . . . and then the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination said to the doctor; the one who told the world that Agent Orange was safe enough to drink; “You need psychiatric help!!”.

178. “I cannot understand why don’t you believe everything that we scientifically trained doctors tell you?” said the doctor; the one who told the world that Maralinga Fallout was harmless . . . and the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination said “That’s because you silly gallahs don’t know enough about mushrooms”.

179. “Why don’t you prove the power of your mind by walking on a path of hot coals?” said the psychiatrist to the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . and the hypochondriac; the one who wasn’t born yesterday said “because I haven’t got my brains in my feet.”

180. “Why don’t you use the power of your mind to walk on a path of hot coals built to my specifications?” said the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination to the psychiatrist; the one who told him that it could be done . . . and the psychiatrist said “Why should I?’ . . . and the hypochondriac replied in a reassuring tone of voice “because you can trust me; I’ll send in a rescue team when your knees start to melt”.

181. “I suppose you think that you make more sense than Albert Einstein?” said the doctor to the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . and the hypochondriac replied ‘that wouldn’t be difficult doc” . . . ‘why not?” said the doctor gasping with disbelief . . . and the hypochondriac replied “because that fuzzy headed halfwit wanted to save the world from self destruction by inventing the atom bomb”.

182. ” Would you like to come to the local cafe to discuss my symptoms doc?” said the hypochondriac . . . “But why can’t we discuss your imaginary symptoms here in the clinic?” said the puzzled doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “because I would rather talk to you about my real symptoms in the real world.”

183. “If you are suggesting that journalists are pests and doctors are responsible for your problems, then why do you still treat them as friends; is it because you are as nutty as a fruitcake?” said the pesky journalist the one who always needed help in comprehending the bleeding obvious . . . and the hypochondriac replied ” of course not; it is because I am not educated enough to think that I can create millions of intelligent people as enemies and win, so I have to rely on my vivid imagination.”

184. “You know; a lot of veterans are complaining to me about a whole lot of weird symptoms which they say were caused by Agent Orange” said the doctor to the pesky journalist and then he added “but the cause is a complete mystery to me” . . . “But why?” said the pesky journalist; the one who always asked too many questions for his own good; usually one too many “is it because they are hypochondriacs, or because they are greedy compo bludgers, or is it because they are as nutty as fruitcakes” . . . “Oh, I don’t know” said the puzzled doctor . . . “But why, why, why doesn’t a very very scientifically educated man like you know doc” said the persistent pesky journalist; the one who usually persisted too much for his own good . . . and the doctor replied “Oh I suppose it could be because the government haven’t released their official secret yet.

184. “I can’t understand your problems” said the very, very, very puzzled and hopelessly confused doctor to the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . and then the pesky journalist; the one who always had difficulty seeing the bleeding obvious said “Neither can I; Why do you read medical books??????”.

185. “Doctor, doctor I’ve got stomach pain, chest pains, a pain in the neck, and a lot of other problems; what’s wrong with me???” said the hypochondriac . . . and the doctor replied “I think that you have got a very very complicated mind” . . . and the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination said “Perhaps that is why I find your mind so easy to predict.”

186. Did you hear the one about the conventional scientist who used lateral thinking . . . He was a seismologist who always got his best ideas about earthquakes when he had his ear to the ground.

187. A world war 1 soldier was knocked senseless on the battlefield after a bomb exploded 50 yards from his left side. He regained consciousness in hospital a week later and was being granted a bravery medal when a doctor walked through the doorway and asked if he had any problems. The soldier then said “yes doc; as a matter of fact I do; I am deaf in my left ear” . . . “Oh that is a typical symptom of shellshock which is due to fear” said the doctor . . . and the soldier; the most courageous of them all said “I don’t know what is wrong with you doc; but I think you have been taking too much of your own medication”.

188. The hypochondriac was walking through the park when he tripped over and hit the side of his head on a rock. He thought “I had better not stay here or I might get sunburnt” so he staggered to his feet. A short time later thunder crashed and rain bucketed down and his hair and clothes were drenched and he thought “I had better shelter under that tree”. A few moments later he was struck in the head by a bolt of lightening and he thought “that was shocking”. When he got home he fell through the doorway and laid on his back staring at the ceiling and thought to himself “Now I’ve tried lateral thinking, brainstorming, and electroconvulsive therapy, but I’m still not convinced that anything solves problems better than experience, acquired knowledge and a good old fashioned vivid imagination.

189. In an attempt to improve upon the great quotes of history the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination quothed “Brevity is the unadulterateable, most humungous, incontrovertible, and critically vital essence of wit.

190. “You know” said the doctor to the hypochondriac “A little bit of knowledge is a bad thing'” . . . “What has that got to do with the price of eggs doc?” said the puzzled hypochondriac . . . “Well”, said the doctor “if you read medical text books you will start imagining every disease that you read about and worry yourself silly” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “I think I need to teach you a few more lessons about hypochondriacs doc”.

191. “You know” said the doctor to the hypochondriac “A little bit of knowledge is a bad thing'” . . . “What has that got to do with me doc?” said the puzzled hypochondriac . . . “Well”, said the doctor “if you read medical text books you will start imagining every disease that you learn about and worry yourself silly” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “then how did I get all of those symptoms before I started reading medical books doc???”

192. The doctor said to the hypochondriac “If you read medical textbooks it means that you are as nutty as a fruitcake” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “I suppose it takes one to know one.”

193. “But the medical text books describe your symptoms as imaginary” said the doctor “why don’t you believe that?” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “because I can read between the lines.”

194. “Why can’t I convince you that your pain is imaginary?” said the doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “because real pain is more convincing than you are!!!”

195. “That is very surprising” said the doctor “I can actually see evidence of arthritis in your neck so I will supply you with our new anti-arthritic drug” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Do I recall you diagnosing my neck ache as imaginary 10 years ago when you prescribed valium; and by the way, haven’t those drugs got side effects of addiction and heart attacks??” . . . “Oh yes” said the doctor “sorry about that; come back and see me next week” . . . “I don’t think that will be necessary doctor” said the hypochondriac . . . “Why not?” said the doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “because I think I will live longer if I wait until my head falls off.”

196. The doctor had previously worked for the local factory, and then an insurance company, and then the army, and then the government, until finally entering private practice. After listening to a long list of symptoms from the hypochondriac he said “Your back ache is all in your mind, your whiplash injury is a psychological problem related to early childhood traumas, your Agent Orange symptoms are a figment of your imagination, and your Maralinga Fallout problems are due to mushroom dust” . He then slapped the hypochondriac in the face and said “When are you going to wake up and realise that these symptoms aren’t real?” . . . The doctor then stood up and walked across the room to the drug cabinet when he tripped over the heater cord and hit his head on the concrete floor and fell unconscious. The compassionate and forgiving hypochondriac walked over to the doctor, leant over, and slapped him in the left side of the face, and then slapped him in the right side, and then the backside, and then he punched him in the centre of his chest as hard as he could, and then he grabbed him by the shirt with both hands and shook him violently and said “Wake up doctor, wake up, please wake up, you’ve gotta help, you’ve gotta, I need you, I need you, wake up”. The doctor opened his eyes and said sleepily “What’s going on around here, what, what; will someone please tell me what’s going on around here???????” and the hypochondriac gave him one more good slap and said “Wake up, wake up doc; You’re working for me now .”

197. “How do you tell the difference between a doctors imagination and a hypochondriacs imagination?” said the pesky journalist . . . and the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination said “You get the doctors imagination and give it a numeric, then multiply by a variable and deduct the original”.

198. “What are you going to do if doctors; the most intelligent people on the planet, decide to retaliate against your jokes about their imagination???” said the pesky journalist . . . and the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination said, in a tone of voice which lacked its usual ebullience, and then in a tone of sadness, and then downright melancholy, and then in utter panic “I suppose I am a bit like doctors in that respect!” . . . “What do you mean???” said the puzzled pesky journalist . . . and the hypochondriac replied “I haven’t thought that far ahead”.

199. Why did the hypochondriac cross the road? . . . Because he saw a doctor walking along the footpath reading a joke book and he wasn’t laughing.

199. “You’ve tried funny jokes, silly jokes, colorful jokes, sarcastic jokes, and sometimes downright black humor; why don’t you stick to a consistent style???” said the puzzled pesky journalist; the one who always needed help seeing the bleeding obvious, to the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination.

200. “Why did you spend 30 years of your life wasting your Time reading medical books???” said the puzzled doctor to the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Because if I had followed your advise, the bullshit would have driven me crazy, and I would have died several Times; but I am still alive, and I still have my wits about me, and you are still playing a losing end game; And Der Ain’t Nuttin U Can Do About Dat Doc!!!”

201. The pesky journalist; the peskiest of them all, decided to do an article about hypochondriacs so he interviewed a doctor who said “I can’t find anything physically wrong with that sort, so I refer them to psychiatrists. He then asked a psychiatrist for his opinion and he said “those patients have imaginary symptoms which they use to get sympathy, so I treat them with tranquillisers and psychotherapy to dampen down their overactive imaginations. A hypochondriac who walked into the room at the time said “Would anyone around here like to know what I think?” . . . and the pesky journalist said sarcastically “Okey dokey; that should be interesting” . . . so the hypochondriac; the one who knew from experience about the dangers of taking mind altering drugs; the same one who had the world’s most vivid imagination said “I think that intelligent and ambitious teenagers who apply for medical school should be questioned to see if they have a tendency to blame other people for their problems, and if they do it should be assumed that if they ever become doctors they will have the same tendency to blame their patients for the failure of diagnosis and treatment, so we should cull them out before they have the opportunity of becoming highly qualified and highly paid expert public menaces”.

202. “If you have so much trouble with your health how can you still tell jokes???” said the sceptical doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “well doc; if you don’t have a sense of humour why aren’t you depressed???”

203. The pesky journalist decided to arrange a boxing contest between the world’s most intelligent doctor and the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination, so that they could settle their differences like men, but instead of remaining on the sidelines as a mere observer, he joined in himself to get a taste of real life. In round one the doctor punched the hypochondriac in the nose and blood splurted everywhere, and the pesky journalist dodged and weaved to avoid getting hurt. Exactly the same thing happened in the next round, and the next, and the next, and the next, until all three were wading in a pool of blood, and then the doctor hit the hypochondriac in the nose again, but this time his fist swung right and hit the pesky journalist in the side of the head and he fell to the floor. As he laid on his back all stunned and dazed he said “Doc what’s wrong with me, everything is spinning before my eyes; the doctor looked at him and said “I can’t see any bleeding, and there is no sign of a bruise, so there is nothing wrong with you; get up and fight like a man you pathetic whinger!!!” . . . The pesky journalist staggered to his feet and the hypochondriac grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around and kicked him up the arse and said “Yeh! take that you silly gallah!!!”

204. The pesky journalist invited the world’s most intelligent doctor and the hypochondriac with the world’s most vivid imagination to settle their differences in a boxing contest . . . The doctor threw the first punch and hit the hypochondriac in the nose and blood splurted everywhere so the hypochondriac spun the doctor around and kicked him up the arse . . . This went on for seven rounds when the pesky journalist; the one who always needed help seeing the bleeding obvious, took the battered and bleeding hypochondriac to one side and said “How do you ever hope to win if you keep doing that all the time???” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “because I figure that is the only way I am ever going to keep that silly gallah going in the same direction as me.”

205. During a 10 minute consultation the doctor said to the hypochondriac “I have finally figured out the cause of all of your symptoms” . . . and the curious hypochondriac replied “What doc?” . . and the doctor said “Your multiple symptoms must be due to a multiple personality disorder; stupidity, fear, laziness, and insanity; and I would like you to go away and not come back complaining to me again until you have thought about that” . . . The hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination went away and thought for 10 minutes, and then another 10 minutes, and then another 10 minutes, and then another 10 minutes, and then another 10 minutes for good measure, and then he returned to the doctor and said “I give up doc; I can’t figure it out; are trying to cure me or insult me???”

206. The doctor finally lost his patience with the hypochondriac so he said “Will you stop ruddywell complaining you whinging hypochondriac, I reckon that your pain is all in your mind” and then he said “what are you going to do about that!!!” . . . “Well doc” said the hypochondriac “I can’t punch you in the nose because that might hurt my fist, and I can’t kick you up the arse because you might have me arrested, and I can’t sue you for defamation of character because I can’t afford the legal fees, so I will just have to enter parliament and introduce the ‘all in the mind’ legislation.” . . . “And what difference will that make???” said the puzzled doctor to the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Well doc; the next time you tell me that my pain is ‘all in my mind’ I am going to kick you up the arse and if you complain about it; they’ll put you in jail.”

207. The doctor said “We have finally figured out why you are always complaining about you health” . . . “and why is that???” said the puzzled hypochondriac . . . and the doctor replied “because you have got nothing else to think about; so you need a hobby” . . . “but that’s not true doc” said the hypochondriac . . . and the doctor asked why . . . so the hypochondriac replied “because I am a bit like Albert Einstein” . . . “and what is that supposed to mean said the puzzled doctor . . . “Well” said the hypochondriac I only use 10% of my brain thinking about my health” . . . “and what do you do with the other 90%” said the doctor . . . I’m trying to figure out how to kick you up the arse” said the hypochondriac . . . “and why is that taking you so long??” said the sarcastic puzzled dotor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “because I want to get the angle right”.

208. “30 years ago you guys said that all peptic ulcers were caused by psychological stress and could be cured by psychotherapy, but you cured nobody, and 15 years ago you said that the ulcers might be caused by a microbe, and 10 years ago you cured the ulcers in a week with antibiotics” said the hypochondriac . . . and the doctor replied with pride “Certainly; isn’t modern medical science amazing!!!” . . . “I can’t argue with that!!!” said the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination “but when are you silly gallahs going to start learning from your own mistakes???”.

209. Did you hear about the investigative journalist who studied hypochondria thoroughly before writing his article on the topic . . . He interviewed 10 of the world’s top doctors and psychiatrists but forgot to discuss the subject with 23,674,521 hypochondriacs.

210. Did you hear about the investigative journalist who studied cyberchondria thoroughly before writing an article about it . . . He read every newspaper and every medical journal published in every country in ye olde fangled land in the past 300 years; and then wrote that patients who surfed the internet to get information about their health were as nutty as fruitcakes.

211. Question; Why did the pesky journalist cross the road; the same pesky journalist who wrote an article about hypochondria in which he described it as a set of imaginary symptoms which were caused by depression . . . Answer; He saw a hypochondriac walking along the footpath reading a copy of his newspaper; and he didn’t look happy.

212. Did you hear about the investigative journalist who studied hypochondria thoroughly before writing his article on the topic . . . He got the opinion of one of the world’s top doctors, and then he got a second opinion from one of the world’s top psychiatrists; but the silly gallah forgot to get a third opinion from 23,674,521 hypochondriacs.

213.. “OK; I’ll do another article on willpower and illustrate it with another fine example of persevering in the face of adversity!” said the pesky journalist to the doctor, as they sat in the newspaper office; the one with the antique printing presses . . . Just then the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination, walked through the front door and the doctor said “Oh no; here comes that ruddy hypochondriac again; I wonder what he is going to whinge about this time???” . . . The hypochondriac overheard that sarcastic remark so he punched the doctor in the nose and it bled profusely . . . Just then a nurse was walking along the footpath and saw the scuffle through the window so she came in and put a bandaid on the doctors nose. The pesky journalist turned to the hypochondriac and said “What did you do that for you silly ruddy troublemaker?” so the hypochondriac punched him in the side of the face causing a very large blue bruise on his cheek . . . Just then an ambulance drove past and a first aid man who saw the scuffle came in and put a bag of ice on the pesky journalists cheek. As the pesky journalist regained consciousness he said angrily “Why don’t we defend ourselves Doc?” and the doctor said “I can’t because we doctors have our ethics to consider” . . . and the pesky journalist said “Well we journalists spin ethics around our little finger, so I’ll do it” so he punched the hypochondriac in the jaw, knocking him to the floor. As the hypochondriac staggered up he said “Doctor, doctor, you’ve gotta help me, you’ve gotta; I’m all dizzy!”. The remorseful doctor was duty bound to help so he examined the hypochondriac and said “You never cease to amaze me” . . . “Why this time doc?” said the puzzled hypochondriac, and the doctor replied “because there are no signs of bleeding or bruising, so I can’t find any evidence of an injury” . . . “Oh no, not again” said the hypochondriac, and he added “I’ll tell you what doc; if a psychiatrist walks through that ruddy door I am going to spin him around and kick him up the arse and tell him to keep his silly ruddy mouth shut before he gets a chance to tell me that I’ve got another ruddy problem that’s all in my ruddy head!!!”

214. Edward DeBono: the world’s greatest problem solving expert was guest speaker at a recent Australian National Press club luncheon which was attended by the country’s leading journalists and broadcast on ABC TV. He spoke on the subject of ‘How to Think’. The cyberchondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imaginations was eating his cholesterol free salad sandwich at the time when he suddenly panicked and thought “If Edward De Ruddy Bono doesn’t keep his ruddy mouth shut those pesky ruddy print journalists will start thinking about the ruddy internet and then I’ll have another ruddy expert to thank for another ruddy problem.”

215. Another variation on the great quotes of history by the hypochondriac . . . “It hurts therefore it is!”

216. The world’s greatest scientist said ruefully “We thought that the world was flat for thousands of years” . . . and then the world’s greatest doctor said empathetically “We tried to cure peptic ulcers with psychotherapy for 100 years” . . and the cyberchondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination said “Ouch” . . . “Why did you say ouch?” said the curious doctor “Do you share our psychological pain???” . . . “Of course not you silly gallah” said the cyberchondriac “I just stubbed my big toe”.

217. “Listen to me” said the frustrated doctor “I have been reading medical books which go back for 3000 years, and the best explanation for your symptoms is that they are entirely imaginary; I want you to tell me, in all honesty, why you don’t place a reasonable value on this opinion; Is it because you need your symptoms as a desperate way of getting sympathy?” . . . “Certainly not” said the puzzled hypochondriac . . . “Then is it because you do not have the courage to admit that you have a mental, rather than a physical illness??” said the enquiring doctor . . . “Certainly not” said the confused hypochondriac . . . “Then is it because you are as nutty as a fruitcake???” said the despairing doctor . . . “Certainly not” said the genuinely astonished hypochondriac . . . “Then give me one good reason why not” said the doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Because Doc; Antiquities of that value are thoroughly priceless, and if you want a second opinion: I don’t know of any curator in any museum in the modern world who would have enough courage to take a wild guess at it”.

218. “Look” said the frustrated doctor to the hypochondriac “In my opinion your symptoms are imaginary and a doctors opinion rules the world and your opinion means absolutely nothing so why don’t you just accept that as a fact of life???” . . . and the hypochondriac who was trying to use his vivid imagination as sympathetically and constructively as possible said “You listen to me Doc; You makeum heap big trouble for me; Me makeum heap big truckload of trouble for you; so why don’t you stop talking bullshit ya silly gallah.”

219. “Why is it that most other normal hypochondriacs try to get sympathy from me and you have to be different, ya weirdo you???” said the extremely frustrated puzzled doctor to the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . “Well doc”, said the hypochondriac; “Let me explain it to you in a way that you might understand “You try to get sympathy from me and see if it cures any of your problems; ya silly gallah!!!”

220. “Have you ever considered the possibility that some of your jokes might go beyond the pale of funny into the bucket of nasty???” said the modestly affronted doctor . . . “Certainly doc, but writing jokes is a bit like the science of medicine” said the hypochondriac . . . “How so?” said the genuinely curious doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “because it is a matter of practice makes perfect; you know, trial and error” . . . “But we never make errors” said the doctor . . . “Now, now doc; I can’t let you say that!” said the prudently cautious hypochondriac . . . “but why not?” said the increasingly puzzled doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Listen carefully doc; these are my joke pages and I’m the only ruddy comedian around here – because if I allow both of us to tell jokes, the readers might go beyond the pale of giggling a little bit into the bucket of laughing their silly heads off.”

221. Why didn’t the doctor go on a holiday to rest and recuperate? . . . because the hypochondriac asked if he could borrow his medical books while they weren’t being used.

222. Edward de Bono was suffering from a pain between his ears so he went to see the doctor. The doctor said that there was no evidence of disease on the blood tests or x-rays so he didn’t have a clue what was causing it. The world’s greatest problem solving expert therefore decided to phone the hypochondriac because he thought that the world’s most vivid imagination might solve the problem.
“My name is Edward De Bono and I want you to help me find the cause of a pain between my ears” said Eddy . . . “Okey Dokey Eddy” said the hypochondriac “but before I help you, you will need to help me” . . .”That sounds reasonable” said Eddy . . . “I want you to answer a question” said the hypochondriac . . . “Certainly” said Edward De Bono; the world’s greatest problem solving expert “ask away” . . . and the hypochondriac; said “Have you been beating your head against any brick walls lately???”

223a. The hypochondriac was having exploratory surgery without anaesthetic and the world’s top brain surgeon held a circular punch over his skull and hit it with a hammer to remove a small piece of bone. While examining the patients brain with a magnifying glass he said “Why Oh why oh why does this mysterious man have every symptom known to medicine except headaches . . . and the hypochondriac said “That was yesterday!!!”

223b. (Same joke as 223a with a different ending) The hypochondriac was having exploratory surgery without anaesthetic and the world’s top brain surgeon held a circular punch over his skull and hit it with a hammer to remove a small piece of bone. While examining the patients brain with a magnifying glass he said “Why Oh why oh why does this mysterious man have every symptom known to medicine except headaches . . . and the hypochondriac said “Oh Shit!!!”

224. “Listen to me” said the frustrated doctor “I think that your large range of symptoms are all in your mind and I want you to tell me, in all honesty, why you don’t believe that; Is it because you need your symptoms as a desperate way of getting sympathy?” . . . “Certainly not” said the puzzled hypochondriac . . . “Then is it because you do not have the courage to admit that you have a mental, rather than a physical illness??” said the enquiring doctor . . . “Certainly not” said the confused hypochondriac . . . “Then is it because you are as nutty as a fruitcake???” said the despairing doctor . . . “Certainly not” said the genuinely astonished hypochondriac . . . “Then give me one good reason why not” said the doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Because Doc, I’m not a ruddy simpleton ya silly gallah”.

225. One day the hypochondriac was walking to the library to use their computers when he tripped over an old fashioned thing called a newspaper. As he regained consciousness his face was buried in an article about the merits of maintaining previously established standards of courtesy when using the new fangled communication contraptions such as mobile phones and the internet. It claimed that a person would not be inconsiderate or rude when talking face to face with their boss so they should show the same consideration and respect when sending techno-messages. After a few brief moments the hypochondriac staggered up and continued on his way to the library where he read an alphabetically indexed medical book. When he looked up the letter H he found an article describing hypochondriacs as stupid, cowardly, sympathy seeking nuisances who had overactive imaginations. As he read he went “Oooh, ooorrh!!! that makes me furious, but I must curb my instinctive anger and be courteous because I am a civilized citizen of cyberworld” . He then rang the editor of the news article on an old fashioned contraption called a telephone and said “Howdy sport, are you the Honourable silly gallah in charge of that old fashioned thing called a newspaper???” . . . “I certainly am” said the Honourable silly gallah “Are you the nutty as a fruitcake hypochondriac; I mean are you Saint Hypiac, I mean Mr. Hypo,um, er, what I really mean to say is are you Saint Mr. Sir Chondriac of the ruddy humungous gum tree; the Honourable Wise One; the hypochondriac with the genuinely impressive and most vivid imagination???” . . . “I certainly am your Honourable silly gallah” said the ever so humble Mr. Hypo . . . “And to what do I owe the esteemed privilege of this call???” said the Honourable silly gallah . . . and the hypochondriac replied “I am afraid that I cannot agree with the very very heartfelt sentiments about techno-courtesy standards” . . . “But why not???” said the puzzled Honourable silly gallah . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Because I don’t mind lowering my standards of courtesy in the general direction of the old fashioned literary level, but if I go too far people will start making jokes about me and posting them on the ruddy internet!!!”

226. “One hundred of the world’s most intelligent doctors have challenged you to a war game, and they have selected the 7 best strategies in all of military history to defeat you” said the pesky journalist to the hypochondriac, and he added “What are you going to do about that???” . . . The hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination thought for a moment and then said “I suppose I will have to use the element of surprise” . . . “But the world’s most intelligent doctors will be using Indian scouts and satellite spy cameras to watch your every move?” said the pesky journalist “so how are you going to surprise them???” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “by using the two worst strategies in all of military history” . . . “and how do you expect that to help; you silly gallah???” said the puzzled pesky journalist . . . and the hypochondriac replied “I expect their great leader Heap Big Chief Sitting Gallah to become paralyzed with shock and the other 99 silly gallahs to die laughing”.

227. “It’s not fair” said the doctor with the troubled mind, in a melancholy tone of voice “You have ruined our best theories about anxiety, depression, and the need for sympathy and attention being the cause of your symptoms” . . . The hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination responded in a sympathetic tone of voice and said “Don’t worry doc; you have got my attention; and if it will make you happy; I will tell some more jokes; I’ve got millions of em!!!”.

228. The world’s peskiest documentary journalist travelled to the Congo jungle and met a lost Zulu warrior who was suffering from hypochondria and he said “Hey chief Silly Galah; why don’t you go to the witchdoctor and ask him to give you a magic potion to cure your symptoms. A week later the pesky journalist was in the middle of the Sahara when he met a desert tribesman who was dying of thirst and he said “Hey you silly gallah why don’t you catch the next bus to the river Nile?” . . . just then the only camel for 500 miles came trotting by and the pesky journalist said “Hey Cecil the camel; what time does the next bus to the Nile come past?” . . . and the camel died laughing.

229. Another great quothe from history by the hypochondriac; “you curum me problems, me takeum you advice”.

230. After returning from Bagdad with the Gulf War Syndrome the great, great, great grandson of the famous Indian warrior Heap Big Chief Kicking Bull was told that there was no evidence of uranium found in his hair so his symptoms must have been “all in his mind”. A short time later he learned that the correct way to detect uranium in the human body was to test urine, so he phoned a silly government galah and said “Next time me fair dinkum sick, you keepum outa me hair, and you drinkum me piss, or me punchum you in big beak”.
(Alternative ending – “Next time me sick, you keepum outa me hair, and you drinkum me piss, or me kickum you arse”) This joke may be published by gulf war veterans with my permission on condition that it is not for profit and that you acknowledge the source as The Posture Theory website. M.B.

231. “We are becoming very concerned that you are proving our best ideas to be wrong” said the troubled doctor, appealing for sympathy from the hypochondriac . . . “Don’t worry Doc, said the hypochondriac “When you silly galahs proved that peptic ulcers were caused by bacteria you did that all by yourselves”.

232.”I am beginning to get very depressed about all of your jokes said the worried doctor to the hypochondriac “What am I going to do about that; do I need to see a psychiatrist?” . . . “Cerainly not Doc” said the hypochdondriac “All you need is an IQ of 120 and a sense of humour, and maybe you could keep the jokes that make you laugh and remove the ones that make you cry?”.

233.”You know” said the angry doctor, who was getting really, really pissed off “We could destroy your mighty will, your fearless courage, and your powerful imagination within a month by slowly poisoning you to death with arsenic, mercury, or elephant juice” . . . “No you couldn’t Doc” said the confident hypochondriac – “not with those obsolete medicines” . . . “Why can’t we??” said the puzzled doctor “What will you do???” . . . “Nothing” said the hypochondriac . . . “Then why can’t we poison you to death within a month????” said the extrely puzzled doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Because if you keep telling jokes like that I will die laughing before the week’s out.”

234. The doctor was getting really frustrated with the hypochondriacs continuous jibes so he decided to get serious and said “This time you’ve really annoyed me so I’m coming after you with bullets and smart bombs” . . “You will need more imagination than that to get me doc; ya silly galah” said the hypochondriac . . . The doctor then got a bright idea and a glint in his eye and the hypochondriac said “Uh Oh!!!” and disappeared so the doctor went looking for him. He looked under the carpet and up a drain pipe but the hypochondriac was nowhere to be found, but then he noticed a large lamp shade in the corner of the room on top of a bald skinny bloke wearing a military camoflage uniform. He went over and grabbed a tie which was around his neck and pulled it as hard and violentley as he possible could and the hypochondriac said “Click” and then, as if knowing that his fate was sealed he began to sweat with fear and the doctor said, in a really really merciless tone of voice “Did you hear the one about . . .”

235. Why didn’t the pesky journalist cross the road? . . . because he saw the hypochondriac trip over a rock and was bleeding from an artery in his leg, but Pesky didn’t have any sympathy for hypochondriacs . . . Why did the Pesky the journalist change his mind? . . . because he saw a movie star, Privileged Princess Prissy, lose balance on her high heel shoes and fall over, and she was crying like a baby and begging for 3 million dollars cash immediately to compensate her for the brain damage in her feet and the psychological trauma between her ears.

236. The hypochondriac and the doctor accidentally bumped into each other while walking nonchalantly through the local park, and they started a heated argument about the usual things when a pesky journalist came walking past and said “When are your two silly galahs going to settle your differences like grown men???” . . . The hypochondriac punched the pesky journalist in the nose and the furious doctor spun him around and kicked him up the arse . . . a week later the hypochondriac turned to the doctor in the intensive care ward of the local hospital and said “Hey Doc; you’re the ruddy expert around here; how long do you reckon this silly galah is going to live???”.

237. The pesky journalist decided to accept his fate and yield to the pressure of the hypochondriac and join the winning team by publishing an article which described doctors as evil, scheming, treacherous fiends who all belonged in jail . . . A week later the pesky journalist rang the hypochondriac in search of praise and said “What did you think about the article” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “It was very very very good, in fact brilliant and earth shattering and truly newsworthy, but you forgot to dot your i’s and cross your t’s” . . . The pesky journalist thought about this for a few moments and then said “You really are a silly galah; Piss off!!!”

238. “Why do you read medical text books?” said the pesky journalist to the hypochondriac “Is it because it is true what you read; that you are a as nutty as a fruitcake??” . . . “Certainly not!” said the astonished hypochondriac . . . “Then why???” said the puzzled pesky journalist . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Because a very wise doctor once told me that laughter was the best medicine”.

239. What is the difference between a medical critic and a hypochondriac . . . When a medical critic reads a text book which says that the symptoms of hypochondria are caused by depression he says “What a load of bullshit” and when a hypochondriac reads the same text he laughs his silly head off.

240. After a three and a half hour argument the frustrated doctor said sarcastically “What do you call someone who talks in circles?” and the hypochondriac replied “A spin doctor”.

241. The bravest hypochondriac in the world made an appointment to see the bravest doctor on the planet and upon arrival he slammed his fist down on the desk and said “My symptoms are not caused by ruddy fear you silly galah; so I demand that you rewrite all of those ruddy text books which say that they are” . . . and the bravest doctor in the world said indignently “I’m not a silly galah; you are!!!” . . . “Why do you say that???” said the extremely puzzled and disbelieving hypochondriac . . . and the bravest doctor in the world said “because it will take someone with a lot more courage than me to do that; you silly galah”.

242. The university lecturer with the long grey beard was giving a talk to some impressionable teenage medical students who were born yesterday. He was explaining that hypochondriacs were miserable, fearful nuisances with overactive imaginations. As he continued, a student who was not yet old enough to shave summoned the courage to speak, and he said “That isn’t a very nice thing to say; what if a hypochondriac reads a medical text book and sees that???” . . . “Oh, don’t worry youngster” said the crafty old lecturer, they are not bright enough to learn the medical language so they will never know what we are saying anyway” . . . Just then a coughing and snivelling hypochondriac was walking through the hospital on the way to an appointment when he accidentally made a wrong turn and went through the lecture theatre door and walked up to the man in charge and said “Help, help, you’ve gotta help me doc; I’ve got a very, very bad case of otorhinolaringitis and I need CPR in the ICU ASAP U CLe GLa”.

243. The doctor rang the hypochondriac in a frenzied panic and said “You know that old medical idea about your symptoms being caused by fear” . . . “Yep” said the hypochondriac . . . “Well” said the distraught doctor “the pesky journalist is going to write an article about it and make us look really, really, really silly by publishing it on the front page of his newspaper” and then he pleaded “You’ve gotta help, you’ve gotta; you’ve just gotta; please use your vivid imagination and tell me; what should I do???” . . . The hypochondriac thought for a moment and then said “Think positive, walk on a path of hot coals, take two asprin every four hours, and ring me again in the morning if you are still up shit creek without a paddle”.

244. “Why can’t I convince you that you are as nutty as a fruitcake???” said the frustrated doctor to the hypochondriac . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Well doc; you’ve tried big words and fancy ideas; why don’t you try something that someone in their right mind can understand???”

245. Why did the doctor think that the hypochondriac was complaining about trivial symptoms for 10 years??? . . . because he had a very vivid imagination!

246. “Why don’t you try leading a normal life for a week instead of reading medical text books, and see what happens???” said the frustrated doctor to the hypochondriac . . . “Okey dokey doc”, said the cooperative hypochondriac, the one who was always willing to help with his own treatment . . . A week later he returned for his next appointment and said “Hey doc; did you hear the one about the Irishman, the Englishman, and the Scotsman . . . . . . . “

247. The doctor was on safari in the Congo Jungle when he saw a rogue elephant stampeding toward him so he bravely stood his ground and shot him between the eyes, and when a tiger leaped on him from a rock he stabbed him in the underbelly, and when he was attacked by three crocodiles as he crossed the river he poked one in the eye, drowned another, and wrestled the third one onto the shore where he made a pair of shoes out of his tough hide. The following day the doctor was resting in a hammock when he heard a rustling sound as if something was swinging through the trees toward him so he sat up, and then he heard a loud screaming voice say ‘Geronimo’ so he stood to his feet, and when he saw the hypochondriac fall to the ground and say ‘Ouch’ he ran like hell and hasn’t been seen since.

248. It was a bright and sunny morning but the bald hypochondriac was having one of those bad hair days when nothing went wrong so he decided to drive to the clinic and tell the doctor. He said “I won’t need an appointment today Doc, because I’m feeling unusually healthy” and he thought this would make the doctor feel very happy, but the doctor punched him in the nose and kicked him up the backside and said “you’re a ruddy pest!” . . . “But why oh why this time???” said the puzzled hypochondriac . . . and the doctor replied “Because I just bet my shirt on Mudlark in the fifth and he came last so I need your 20 bucks.”

249. It was half time at the footy and the doctors team was winning, and the hypochondraics team was being thrashed as usual, so the furious hypochondriac challenged the doctor to a fight . . . “Okey dokey” said the doctor . . . The hypochondriac then punched him in the nose with his right fist . . . “That didn’t hurt” said the doctor “try punching me with your other fist” so he did . . . “ouch” said the sarcastic doctor “try something different” . . . so the hypochondriac spun him around and kicked him in the backside . . . “Look” said the doctor “you haven’t got the right attitude here, and even if you did you’re not tough enough to beat me so give up”. . . the following day the pesky journalist visited the hypochondriac in hospital and said “What happened to you? you look like you have just gone 12 rounds with Cassius Clay” . . . The hypochondriac had one arm and one foot in plaster and the other arm in a sling, and was aching in every muscle from his head to his toes, and was exhausted from the effort, and he said “I know, but look on the bright side” . . . “What bright side? you silly galah” said the puzzled pesky journalist reeling with disbelief . . . and the hypochondriac said “The other guy didn’t throw a single punch, and you should have seen the miserable sod when three referees declared me to be the winner, and 100,000 people in the stadium went ballistic.”

250. The radio announcer was given a million dollars in secret payments by a very large company, and changed his opinion about one of its main products that very same day, but the broadcasting regulators, who knew about the funny money, did nothing because it was not illegal. The government then rang the station owner and said that war was about to start so “You can’t handle da twoof anymore, but if you try you will lose your radio station licence”. The radio announcer then started his show and said “We are interested in public opinion so please give us a ring and tell us what you think, so the hypochondriac rang up and said “I don’t think that whiplash injuries are all in the mind” and the radio announcer said “why should I believe you; you’re not a doctor; Piss off” . . . This really annoyed the hypochondriac so he decided to apply for the radio announcers job himself and tell the public the twoof for a change, but his application was unsuccessful because the station manager said “your arse is not wide enough, your mouth is not big enough, and your manners are not bad enough”. However, the hypochondriac, who was accustomed to adversity, still thought that he had a slim chance, so he didn’t give up all hope until the manager said “and you talk too much sense.”

251. “If you have had so many problems with your health how have you managed to learn so much about every aspect of medicine known to man???” said the sceptical pesky journalist . . . “Listen sport” said the hypochondriac “You sit down here in this comfy chair and let Unky Hypo tell you the story about the tortoise and the rabbit.”

252. What is the difference between the way a doctor studies disease and the way a hypochondriac studies??? . . . The doctor uses his eyes and the hypochondriac uses his pains!!!

253. Why couldn’t the doctor understand why the hypochondriac was still alive . . . He didn’t have enough imagination.

254. The doctor said to the hypochondriac “Your worst enemies are your own obsessive fears and your very vivid imagination . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Boy oh boy doc; are you up shit creek without a paddle”.

255. “Hey doc; do you know who wrote the theory of evolution” said the hypochondriac; the one with the world’s most vivid imagination . . . “No I don’t” said the patronising doctor; educate me!” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “the man with the world’s second most vivid imagination”.

256. Did you hear the one about the doctor who accidentally told the truth about disease? . . . 50 million hypochondriacs didn’t believe him.

257. Did you hear the one about the doctor who said that patients who read medical books were insane? . . . 50 million hypochondriacs thought that he was an idiot.

258. Did you hear the one about the hypochondriac who thought that he could get sympathy from doctors . . . He hadn’t been around for very long.

259. “I read that hypochondriacs fake symptoms to get sympathy from doctors; what do you think about that???” said the pesky journalist to the hypochondriac . . . and the hypochondriac replied “You need to stop reading fiction and start reading material which will improve your mind; try comics”.

260. “Hypochondriacs read medical text book because they are afraid that their trivial symptoms are caused by serious illness and won’t accept a wise doctors reassurance; what have you got to say about that???” said the pesky journalist . . . and the hypochondriac replied “I’ll tell you when I stop laughing”.

261. “Can you think of any truly reliable way of learning about the real cause of any of our modern diseases?” said the sarcastic pesky journalist to the hypochondriac . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Well sport, I could wait another 30 years and read about it on page 10 of a newspaper.”

262. “Have you ever considered the age-old principle; if you can’t beat them join them?” said the frustrated doctor . . . “Certainly buddy” said the hypochondriac, always looking for ways to get out of a hopeless situation “so here’s the plan; you cover my left flank and I reckon that the two of us will be invincible.”

263. “How can I break your will and convince you that your symptoms are entirely imaginary?” said the doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “I don’t know doc, but I am prepared to be very flexible.”

264. The world’s greatest anatomist pointed to an x-ray board and said to the medical students “As you can see a human brain is much larger than a monkeys” . . . and then a hypochondriac said “And what is the difference in the size of their imaginations?” . . . and the world’s greatest anatomist said “I don’t know” . . . so the hypochondriac said “why not?” . . . and the world’s greatest anatomist said “because imaginations don’t show up on x-rays”.

265. The hypochondriac was walking through the park with his pet tortoise Sleepy on a lead when the doctor approached in the opposite direction with his pet rabbit Speedy. As their paths crossed Speedy said sarcastically “Hey Sleepy; do you want a race?” . . . “Certainly Speedy; first one to that tree over there is the winner” . . . “But that is not fair!” said Speedy the rabbit . . . “Why not???” said the puzzled Sleepy the tortoise . . . “How am I supposed to get across the river” . . . and Sleepy said “Wake me up when you’ve figured it out Speedy” . . . “But you’re not asleep” said Speedy . . . “Not yet sport; but I will be by the time you get to that ruddy tree!”.

266. Speedy the rabbit was walking through the park when he saw Sleepy the tortoise laying on his back against a tree basking in the sun with his nightcap on his head and slippers on his feet . . . “Hey Sleepy” said Speedy “Do you want a race?” . . . Sleepy awoke from his slumber, stretched his arms and legs and yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes and said “Hello Speedy; did you bring your flippers?”.

267. Pesky the journalist was walking through the park when he heard some rustling in the bushes so he left the well worn path until he came to a clearing where he saw Speedy the rabbit holding Sleepy the tortoise by the throat and beating him to a pulp . . . “Why are you doing that?” said Pesky . . . and the rabbit said “Because I don’t like the way this silly galah plays games” . . . “Why not?” said Pesky . . . and the rabbit said “because he wants me to play by his rules” . . . Pesky then said “OK, move aside and let me punch Sleepy stupid too” . . . “Don’t do that” said Sleepy; “I’m not Sleepy; I’m just Kevin the copycat disguised as Sleepy the tortoise, and you should be helping me to beat the living daylights out of Speedy; you silly galah.”

268. Pesky the journalist decided to turn turkey and join forces with the hypochondriac against his merciless foe the doctor so he said “Here, take this pile of grenades, smart bombs, and depleted uranium bunker busting bombs and do with it what you will, and good luck Sir Chondriac, my new hero!” . . . “”I can’t do anything with those things you silly galah” said the hypochondriac . . . “Why not???” said the extremely puzzled pesky journalist . . . and the hypochondriac replied “What am I going to do next week if I get the ruddy sniffles???”

269. Speedy the rabbit was bounding through the park when he saw Sleepy the tortoise and said “Hey Sleepy, do you want a race?” . . . “Hello Speedy” said Sleepy “that’s what I like about you” . . . “What, what do you like about me?” said the puzzled Speedy . . . and Sleepy the tortoise replied “You’re a funny bunny”.

270. “What makes you think that you can find the cause of your symptoms if I can’t???” said the puzzled doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Well Doc, you know that I know that there are some things that you know that you can’t tell me, and that there are some clues that I have that you don’t have; take pain for instance!, and that you are often too busy to tell me everything that you know, and that you have got the rest of the world convinced that I don’t have real symptoms . . . so if I don’t find the cause; who the ruddywell else will, you silly galah!”.

271. According to a television report statistics reveal that 80% of the population trust doctors, and 70% trust journalists, and only 10% trust real estate agents, and in a late breaking news report delivered to the recently opened but now condemned offices of The Daily Twoof, only 20% of the population consult doctors and only 30% read newspapers. Late breaking news flash; New statistics show that 100% of the population don’t trust statisticains.

272. Think for yourself; It has been widely promoted that hypochondriacs are gullible people whose minds are easily influenced, which is why they believe in the useless treatments of naturopaths, and why their symptoms are relieved by placebo tablets which contain useless inert substances like sugar . . . If hypochondriacs are so gullible then why can’t doctors convince them that their symptoms are imaginary, and if placebos are so effective, then why do hypochondriacs go from doctor to doctor for many years before reading medical books and trying to cure their own ailments . . . Who are doctors trying to fool, the patient, the public, or themselves?

273. “What is the difference between hypochondria and disease phobia?” said the hypochondriac with a grin on his face . . . “That’s easy” said the doctor “one of them is an imaginary problem!” . . . and the hypochondriac fell to the floor and rolled about laughing his silly head off, and he said to the doctor “lucky guess!”

274. The town mayor decided to run a raffle . . . first prize was a vivid imagination, second prize was a bottle of wine, and third prize was $10 . . . the doctor won first prize and said joyfully “Just what I need to improve my mind” . . . the pesky journalist won second prize and said “You little beudy; just what I need to drown my sorrows” . . . and the hypochondriac won third prize and said “Lucky me”.

275. After the hypochondriac survived another round of cancer surgery and chemotherapy the curious doctor said “How come a pathetic, snivelling, no-hoper like you is still alive after all of that serious stuff, when all of those famous positive thinking war heros, politicians, and movie stars have had the best psychological counselling known to man, and died?” . . . “If I’ve told you once I must have told you a thousand times before doc; forget about that psychological stuff and remember that age old philosophical saying” . . . “What age old philosophical saying” said the puzzled doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Practice makes perfect”.

276. According to a recent news report, after having quadruple bypass surgery to treat junk food heart disease, former U.S. president Bill Clinton developed complications which required another operation, but he said, while playing a relaxing round of golf, that there was nothing to worry about because it was a simple procedure involving a small incision in his chest to remove some fluid from his lung to prevent calcification which could be a more dangerous problem in the future . . . “What do you think about that?” said the pesky journalist to the hypochondriac, the one who had read a lot of medical books to treat his own ailments . . . and the hypochondriac replied “I can’t comment” . . . “but why not?” said the puzzled pesky journalist . . . and the hypochondriac replied “because I haven’t been the ruddy president of the most powerful country on the ruddy planet, and because I haven’t read enough ruddy medical books to know the meaning of the ruddy word kal, calk, calcif, calsifik, calsif, calsifikoruddyka, calsifokaaarrh; Arrrr forget it.”

277. “How many medical books have you read?” said the sarcastic doctor to the hypochondriac “and by the way, If you have had so many problems with your health, how come you are still alive; you silly galah?” . . . and the hypochondriac replied ‘Well doc, I suppose I have read just enough medical books to survive all of your silly ideas and mistakes; you silly galah”.

278. “What are you reading medical books for; you silly galah?” said the doctor to the hypochondriac . . . “What are you whinging about doc; you should be grateful because I’ve got so many symptoms that you need all the help you can get; you silly galah”.

279. What can a doctor say to a patient who has never read a medical book in their life? . . . anything he wants to say . . . and what type of diagnosis can he give them? . . . any diagnosis that he wants to give them.

280. Speedy the rabbit challenged Sleepy the tortoise to a 10 mile road race and said confidently “To make this fair I will run around every tree on the left side of the road, and then come back around every tree on the right side before sprinting to the finish line”. “Okey dokey” said Sleepy “ready set go”. As Speedy started running around in circles Sleepy got out his mobile and phoned The Conservation Society; Tree Planting Department . . . “Hello, said the receptionist; what can I do for you?” . . . and Sleepy replied “Hello; I’ve got an environmental emergency at Bunny Boulevade; Send truck quick”.

281. Question; Why do you argue on the left side of a quack . . . Answer; Because they have got a vicious right wing.

282. If no patients read medical books they have their backs to the wall, but if a lot of patients read medical books they keep doctors on their toes.

283. “In order to cure diseases properly you need to top your class at high school and then spend 6 years studying at medical school, and then do another 3 years of post-graduate study at university, and then get another 10 years of experience in medical practice” said the doctor to the hypochondriac, and he added “Have you done all of those things?” . . . “Not exactly doc” said the hypochondriac woefully, and he added “have you?” . . . “I certainly have” said the doctor proudly . . . “then why can’t you cure my ailments?” said the hypochondriac . . . and the doctor replied indignantly “because it’s impossible” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “then that is why I am trying to do your job with what I’ve got, you silly galah”.

284. The doctor and the hypochondriac were walking through the park on a sunny day, minding their own business as usual, when they accidentlly crossed paths and got into a wrestling match again, and they soon stumbled and rolled into a pond of quick sand . . . “Oh no” said the doctor in a state of panic “How are we going to get out of this mess alive?” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Don’t worry Doc; I’ve been up to my neck in shit like this for years, and I’m not dead yet; just remember the old Chinese proverb; ta moe uw stwuggle ta hwarder iyt gwots” . . . By sheer coincidence, in the nick of time, the pesky journalist came by and he happened per chance to be carrying a rope with a noose on it, and he yelled out “do you fellas need any help?” . . . “Certainly sport” said the hypochondriac “save the doc first; I’ll hang onto his feet.”

285. “They tell me that you are afraid of disease” said the pesky journalist to the hypochondriac . . . “What a load of rubbish” said the hypochondriac . . . “Then why do you read medical books” said the pesky journalist . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Listen sport; not that it is any of your business, but I can remember when I was in pain and a doctor told me that there was no evidence of disease so I should ignore it, and I took his advice, and it got worse, much worse, and he still couldn’t find a cause, and then he told me that I should still ignore it. Of course, then I can remember when a doctor prescribed me drugs where the side effects were worse than the disease being treated, and when the problem got worse he wanted me to take a larger dose; and then again, I can remember when I was crippled by surgery and three months later, while reading a medical book in the local library, I found out how to prevent the pain; so as you can clearly see, I’m not afraid of disease, you silly galah; I’m afraid of doctors!!!”

286. “So then, you say that you are afraid of doctors” said the pesky journalist to the hypochondriac, and he added “Does that fear make you hyperventilate and feel sick?” . . . “Certainly not!” said the hypochondriac indignantly . . . “Then what effect does it have?” said the pesky journalist . . . and the hypochondriac replied “It makes me a medical critic; you silly galah”.

287. “Can you tell me da twoof about hypochondria?” said the pesky journalist to the doctor . . . and the doctor replied “Certainly sport; I’ll be very pleased to; in fact it’s very simple; you see; if a patient has a problem and you can’t detect it, or measure it, or cure it, deny it’s existence; and then deny, deny, deny until the cows come home; you silly galah” . . . “And what do you call that type of treatment?” said the pesky journalist . . . and the doctor replied “Evidence Based Care!” . . . “but that doesn’t sound fair” said the pesky journalist . . . “No” said the doctor “but it is practical”.
Alterantive punch line for “Evidence Based Care” . . . It means “If we can’t find evidence of disease; we don’t care”.

288. It was a terrible day, cold and freezing, and pouring with rain when the hypochondriac staggered into his doctors clinic and the doctor said “and what can I do for you today?” . . . and the hypochondriac said “I’ve got a really annoying pain in my side doc” . . . after examining the patient the doctor said “I know what is wrong with you; you’ve got kidney stones; no wonder you’re looking so dejected, that is the most painful condition known to medicine!” . . . “Don’t be ridiculous doc” said the hypochondriac “I’ve had kidney stones many times before and that’s not why I’m miserable” . . . “Then why are you so glum chum?” said the puzzled doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “because yesterday it was a bright and sunny day as you know, and everything was going well until I put 10 bucks on Mudlark in the fourth. He bolted in the gates and fell out, and when he stood up and saw the track he jumped the rails and galloped home, and now look at the ruddy weather; you silly galah.”

289. It was a bright and sunny day and there was not a cloud in the sky so the doctor, the pesky journalist, and the hypochondriac met at the track to try their luck. The doc chose last years cup winner Grease Lightening . . . “That is a good choice doc” said the pesky journalist “His trainer said that he was in winning form again” . . . then the pesky journalist put 100 bucks on Jet Speed . . . That is a very good pick” said the doc “he’s won his last 7 races in a row” . . . and the hypochondriac put 10 bucks on Mudlark . . . Mudlark won by 10 lengths and as the hypochondriac was collecting his winnings the pesky journalist said “by the way; why did you bet on Mudlark on a sunny day like this; you silly galah” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “because every time I bet on the way things should happen they turn turkey on me; you silly galah”.

290. According to a recent survey statistics showed that one of Australia’s largest newspaper chains published 123 articles on heart disease, 475 on diabetes, 210 on asthma, 23 on migraines, 142 on headaches, 746 on women’s ailments, 2164 on diseases of television and movie stars, 426 on diseases of business leaders and politicians, and a massive 74,361 articles on 326 different diet related health problems . . . In order to learn more about this very interesting statistical data the hypochondriac made an appointment to see the managing editor, the one with the long grey beard and the walking stick, the one called Mr. S. Galar, the 40 year old who smoked and drank prolifically and looked 70, the old fashioned printing bloke, and Mr. Galar said “Hey sport, what is a miserable, whinging, health obsessed galah like you doing here?” . . . and the hypochondriac replied “what do you mean health obsessed buddy?” . . . and the editor Mr. Galar said “well, how many medical books have you read this week?” and the hypochondriac replied “Listen sport, I haven’t had time to read any medical books at all!” . . . “Why not?” said the puzzled Mr. Galar . . . and the hypochondriac replied “because I have been flat out like a lizard drinking just writing one page of doctor jokes a day; you silly galah”

291. “Will you tell me why you keep reading medical books and questioning my opinion???” said the frustrated doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “because I have to maintain my health and sanity and you’re not helping, you silly galah”.

292. The cyberchondriac was communicating with his doctor by email when the newspaper editor entered cyberworld and he said “Hey doc, here comes a new boy, lets welcome the silly old galah.”

293. “I’m sorry to say that I have checked this x-ray and cannot see any evidence of disease, and I don’t know why???” said the puzzled doctor . . . and the hypochondriac replied “That x-ray machine of yours is getting very very old doc; have you checked it for rust?”.

294. “I don’t know?” said the frustrated doctor; “With all of these new diagnostic machines coming along and proving all of our old ideas wrong I’m finding it very difficult to cope with change”. . . and the hypochondriac replied “don’t worry doc; you’re not alone; you’re trying to stop change; and I’m trying to bring it about; so I suppose we are both just a couple of silly galahs.”

295. “You couldn’t possibly be as silly as you look” said the pesky journalist to the hypochondriac . . . and the hypochondriac, in response to this truly heartfelt compliment, said, “and you couldn’t possibly believe all of that crap that you write; you silly galah.”

296. Why couldn’t the doctor tell the difference between hypochondria and disease phobia? . . . He was too scared to try.

297. Why did the doctor tell all of his patients that their symptoms were “all in the mind” . . . Because he thought that laughter was the best medicine.

298. You do the maths; “How can you determine which diseases of the modern world are ‘all in the mind’?” said the pesky journalist to the hypochondriac . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Oh! that should be easy; you just need to add up the number of diseases which were ‘all in the mind’ in the nineteenth century, and then deduct the number of diseases which have been detected in the twentieth century” . . . and how were those diseases detected??” said the pesky journalist . . . “Oh! you know, by those new fangled things called microscopes, x-rays, CAT scans, MRI’s, ultrasounds . . . and . . . um, er . . .and . . . c-c-c- . . . cough, splutter c-c-ca- . . . cough, splutter . . . c- c- camera pills etc.” said the hypochondriac, the one who was becoming exhausted, the one with the chronic fatigue syndrome, the illness which was ‘all in the mind’ until recent ergometric and biochemical tests revealed its real cause.

299. “What is wrong with you today?” said the curious doctor . . . and the patient replied “Well doc, I have a sore throat and a hoarse voice, so I have to speak with a hush, and sometimes I have trouble swallowing my food, and my stomach hurts when I do too much bending or stretching, and I get pains in my chest, and I get difficulties breathing and my heart pounds and I feel faint and dizzy especially if I try to run too fast, and my kidneys ache when I sit in a chair for too long or walk in cold air” . . . “Stop, stop, stop” said the impatient doctor “I haven’t got all day to sit here listening to your endless list of symptoms; and I have told you before; the X-rays and the blood tests and the CAT scans and the MRI’s don’t show anything wrong with your stomach, or your heart, or your kidneys, and as far as I can see you are perfectly normal in every way so you must be imagining things; stop worrying about nothing, and by the way; you look scruffy in those clothes of yours so why don’t you get something that fits and then you will look and feel much better, and maybe that will get your mind off of your trivial aches and pains” . . . “Okey dokey doc” said the patient. After leaving the clinic he went immediately to the nearest clothes shop and the tailor, who was 90% blind in both eyes said “Hello Quasimodo; the world’s most deformed hunchback; what can I do for you today?” and Quasimodo said “I need you to make me some clothes that will fit me to perfection thank you” . . . and the tailor replied “I’m sorry freakfeatures, but the curve in your stooped spine will split the strongest stitching in any coat, and I would need 10 pounds of padding to level your left shoulder with your right, and the flatness of your sunken chest will put a ripple in any vest, and your protruding belly will pop the sturdiest buttons that money can buy . . . and I’m only Louigi the humble tailor; I’m not Merlin the ruddy magician”.

300. According to statistics 95% of hypochondriacs were suffering from fear which proves that anxiety is the cause of their symptoms, and that is why hypochondria is also called “anxiety state”. Statistics from another source have recently revealed that 95% of hypochondriacs were suffering from depression which proves that depression is the real cause of their symptoms, and this is why hypochondria is also called a “depressive illness”. However statisticians have to admit that at least one percent of hypochondriacs do not suffer from anxiety or depression or any other identifiable psychological problem, so their symptoms must be due to some mysterious factor which is buried too deeply in the subconscious mind to be detected by the most sophisticated psychological tests known to man. In other late breaking news it has been reported that 95%+95%+1% makes a total of 191% which scientifically proves that statisticians are as nutty as fruitcakes.

301. Be watching next Saturday for another exciting adventure of the cyberchondriac as he goes up a garden path; the one which winds around Ship Creek; the creek with a boat in it; the one without a paddle. Will he find himself up to his neck in it again, or will some darstardly villains find themselves drowning in it. Joke number 302. UP SHIP CREEK WITHOUT A PADDLE starring Sir Chondriac and his trusty sidekick Sleepy the 126 year old tortoise.

307. Why did the doctor think that hypochondriacs were miserable people who did not have a sense of humor? . . . because he read too many medical books and not enough joke books.

308. Why do doctors argue amongst themselves about the cause of hypochondria? . . . well, they prefer arguing with hypochondriacs in their clinics but sometimes they have to attend conferences or go on holidays.

Joke Number 309

DESERT HOLIDAY

A HA HA PRODUCTION
In wide screen black and white printomatography
starring SIR CHONDRIAC
co-starring SLEEPY THE TORTOISE
also featuring the DOC and SPEEDY

310. Why did the doctor believe that he could cure stomach ulcers with psychotherapy . . . because he read about it in one of those old fashioned printing things called books.

311. Did you hear about the doctor who never made a wrong diagnosis or a surgical mistake . . . No??? . . . neither has anyone else! . . . Did you hear about the doctor who admitted to making a wrong diagnosis or a surgical mistake . . . No??? . . . neither has anyone else!!!

312. “Why are you always reading medical books?” said the puzzled pesky journalist to the hypochondriac “Is it because you are as nutty as a fruitcake?’ . . . “Certainly not!” said the indignant hypochondriac . . . “Then why???” said the persistent pesky journalist . . . and the hypochondriac replied “Because the price of freedom is eternal vigilance; you silly galah!”.

313. Why can doctors convince the public that the symptoms of hypochondria are imaginary . . . because simple lies are more believable than complicated truths.

314. What is a doctor likely to diagnose as the cause of your ailment if it does not show up on an x-ray . . . Anxiety, depression, obsession, psychosomatic disorder, neurosis, imagination, hypochondria . . . What is a hypochondriac likely to diagnose as his doctors reasons for the mixed bag of contradictory diagnoses . . . Stupidity, idiocy, deceitfulness, dishonesty, self-delusion, professional negligence, fraud, corruption, psychotropic drug overdose, senility.

315. Question; What is the best thing to do if your ailment shows up on an x-ray . . . Answer; consult a doctor . . . Question; What is the best thing to do if your ailment does not appear on an x-ray . . . Answer; consult a medical bookie, an astrology chart, a Chinese cookie, the weekly chook raffle ticket, bozo the clown, or the pattern of tea leaves at the bottom of an empty tea cup.

316. What is the difference between a problem doctor and a problem gambler? . . . When a problem doctor doesn’t have the foggiest idea what is causing an illness he makes a wild guess between 6 different psychological causes and his patient usually thinks that he is an idiot . . . When a problem gambler hasn’t got a penny to his name he puts a bet on the roll of a dice and usually loses his shirt.

317. What happened to the doctor who told the hypochondriac that his symptoms were caused by fear and depression and the hypochondriac started arguing with him and told him that he was an idiot . . . Let me put it this way; the doctor wasn’t happy.

318. Why did the doctor tell the hypochondriac that his symptoms were caused by fear and depression? . . . because the textbooks said that hypochondriacs were gullible and the doctor wasn’t bright enough to know that his textbooks were full of bullshit.

319. Why did the doctor try to cure stomach ulcers with psychotherapy? . . . because somebody gave him a medical textbook which was 20 years out of date.

320. At a recent international placebo conference the guest speaker, who was a world expert on the subject, was unable to attend. Apparently he tried to cure stomach ulcers, broken legs, and cancer with sugar tablets; and he was still in jail.

321. “What do doctors do to hypochondriacs who speak out about the way they have been treated?” said the pesky journalist to the hypochondriac . . . and the hypochondriac replied “If they won’t tell you, what makes you think they will tell me; you silly galah”.

322. Did you hear the one about the doctor who was suffering from stage fright? . . . The chairman of The Annual Hypochondriacs Conference said “I would like to welcome my 10,000 fellow hypochondriacs, and this years special guest speaker”.

323. What do you call a hypochondriac who is the son of a Scottish father and an Italian mother? . . . Louigi McHypiac.

324. Did you hear about the editor who printed lies about health on the front page of his newspaper . . . Somebody told him that Sir Chondriac was away on holidays.

325. In last week’s running of the Wizard Cup Hypochondriacs Revenge led all the way to win by six laps in the 3 lap race, Rigged Statistics from the scientific consortium came second, and Quack’s Pride was a distant third (Hotfoot from the psychiatrists stable was scratched after burning his hooves on the firewalkers track 6 months before the start).

326. What happened to the extremely clever doctor who argued with hypochondriacs??? . . . Important clue; he was outnumbered 6 billion to one.

327. What is the difference between a hypochondriac and a movie star who gets sick? . . . One of them gets told to go back to work and work hard you lazy bludger, and the other one gets a lot of sympathy and attention and is told to go for a long holiday.

328. Why didn’t the hypochondriac worry all day and all night about all of the symptoms that his doctor couldn’t cure? . . . because he was so busy reading medical books that he didn’t have any spare time.

329. Why didn’t the hypochondriac ever get depressed? . . . because he spent so much of his time reading medical books that he couldn’t stop laughing from the time he woke up in the morning until the time he went to bed at night.

330. What did they discover when the world’s latest, and most expensive, and largest CAT scan was used on the first patient? . . . A dirty rat, 3 blind mice, and 2 partridges in a pear tree . . . and the hypochondriac, who carried his pet tiger to the vet said “I’ve got sore knees, an aching back, a sore neck, and ruddy sore arms, and you should have seen the size of that ruddy pear tree when they pulled it out of his arse.”

331. What did the hypochondriac say when the doctor tried to scare him by saying that he had a fatal and incurable disease? . . . “When are you going to stop talking bullshit, and get something right”.

332. What did the hypochondriac say when the doctor tried to scare him by saying that he had a fatal and incurable disease and would probably be dead within three weeks? . . . “Oh damn, does that mean that I will have to cancel next months checkup”.

333. What did the hypochondriac say when the doctor tried to scare him by saying that he had a fatal and incurable disease and would probably be dead within three weeks? . . . “Oh good, does that mean I won’t have to have that painful flu shot for next winter”.

334. What is the difference between a highly educated doctor and an ignorant moron? . . . When a disease does not show up on an x-ray the doctor tells his patient “it must be all in the mind”, and a moron says “don’t ask for my guess, I’m not an idiot”.

335. Why do people read medical books?

a. Because they need the knowledge in order to pass their medical exam

b. Because they need the knowledge in order to deal with diseases that doctors can’t understand or cure.

c. Because they need the material for their doctor jokes;

Did you hear the one about a pesky bug called helicobacter pylori; it ate a big hole in the stress theories.

(If the cause of disease is not correctly identified all treatment will inevitably fail, as was the case with stomach ulcers i.e. you can’t kill bacteria with antacids or talk therapy, and attempting to convince a patient that the ulcer is caused by stress, when it is not, and then not providing a real cure, can be extremely annoying. Doctors can also be intensely irritating when they say that the treatment “should have worked” when it didn’t, and when they imply that it is the patients fault that the treatment failed, or that the patient is just after sympathy, or wants the treatment to fail”. Some doctors actually give the impression that they will continue with that type of insidious harassment relentlessly because they want the patient to go away and never come back, and the only way for the patient to achieve peace of mind is to avoid doctors as much as possible and solve the problem themselves using whatever skills and resources are available. Some doctors then try to frustrate patients further by telling them that reading medical books is a sign of insanity, and in fact they twist everything around to suit their own view of the world. If the doctor doesn’t solve the problem and the patient is deterred from doing so they are left in a situation which is absolutely hopeless. In such cases the doctor isn’t part of the cure, he is part of the problem, and if you stop consulting doctors you remove half of the problem immediately).

336. Imagine this

At a recent medical conference about the cause of hypochondria an eager young doctor stood up and said “I think it is caused by a fear of disease”, and another said “I think that they are all timid and meally mouthed and are afraid of exercise, people, the world, and everything”. another sprouted “I think it is due to depression”, and then another said “I think that they are turning deep seated sub conscious psychological problems into physical symptoms”, and yet another keen young doctor said “I think it is due to an overactive imagination”, and yet another neophyte sprung to his feet and said “I think that hypochondriacs have excessive introspection”, and another said “I think that they ruminate too much about trivial health problems”, and then came the suggestion “I think that hypochondriacs have nothing better to do with themselves” but then a bright spark with a real gift said “I think that they take life and death too seriously and should lighten up a bit and think more humorously”.

Just then a hypochondriac stood up in the middle row and said “Mr. Chairman, I am going to the cafe next door to have a salad and a glass of apple juice, and when your illustrious wizards eventually decide which is their best idea could you please let me know and I’ll tell you what is wrong with it”.

Joke number 337. Leaping to conclusions

The young doctor said that hypochondriacs were ignorant people who leapt to the conclusion that they were ill on the basis of the flimsiest of evidence, and that they were all fools who were irrationally obsessed with their trivial health problems every hour of every day for years, sometimes even decades. A curious and inquisitive hypochondriac then asked “and how long have you been trying to understand the riddle of hypochondria which has been baffling the entire medical profession for thousands of years???” and the young doctor replied “about a week”.

338. “Now listen, stop reminding doctors that they were wrong about stomach ulcers and the mind for more than 100 years, said the pesky journalist “You will make them feel ashamed, humiliated, and guilty” . . . “Okey dokey” said the remorseful hypochondriac . . . A few moments later . . . “Did you hear the one about the pesky journalist who believed that the symptoms of hypochondria were imaginary?”

339. Question; “What will it take to make doctors admit that the symptoms of hypochondria are real?” . . . Answer; “Probably a lot of patience and a truck load of truth serum”.

340. “All of my other hypochondriacs are worrried to death, or miserable with depression, or have gone mad or committed suicide, but you are hostile and critical of everything I do or say so I am making an appointment for you to see an anger management psychotherapist” said the doctor . . . At their very first meeting the world’s greates anger management expert said to the hypochondriac “What are you laughing at?”.

341. TV Quiz Show Host to Quiz Show Champion Barry Jones . . . “What is the scientifically proven difference between a whinging, mentally ill hypochondriac and a patient with Chronic Post – Q Fever Fatigue Syndrome . . . Barry Jones’s reply . . . “Well, um, er, y’see that’s an interesting question because y’see in Australia it’s approximately 80 years, give or take a year or two, but, um, in America, for example, and Canada, it’s been known about, well, what I mean is, the actual Q-fever has been known about for a lot longer than that, but under a different name of course” . . . “Of course!!!” said the quiz show host . . . and Champion Barry Jones continued . . . “but you see, then again in some of the more backward countries of Africa, and then again there’s Siberia where the news still hasn’t got through yet” . . . “Yes, yes, that’s correct Barry” said the quiz show host “Barry, always the stickler for detail” . . . “Yes” said Barry, “but you see, more interestingly it’s been known about a lot longer than that in ToonVille, and Disneyland, and then of course there’s the real world, and y’know, now that I think about it, that is a really funny place, y’know” . . . “Yes, yes, we know” said the slightly agitated Quiz show host who was becoming a little bit testy with impatience “That’s enough detail for today thankyou” . . . “But did you know?” said Barry, It’s not known about in the land that Time forgot, although another group of earthlings will be documenting it in a time capsule for the next trip to Mars. Y’see, we wouldn’t want future generations to think that we were all Dodo’s would we? . . . “No, No, I suppose we wouldn’t” said the quiz show host “thankyou for those enlightening comments: Now stick a sock in it”.

1. “How can doctors convince themselves that hypochondriacs are suffering from imaginary symptoms”, said the journalist. “Oh, I don’t know” said the hypochondriac “the usual ways I suppose: wishful thinking, or self delusion, or maybe they are just kidding themselves or have lost the plot, or perhaps they are taking their own mind altering drugs which make them dream up a denialogical kaleidoscope of bullshit’. “What do you think should be done about that” said the journalist. “Oh those doctors are just a nuisance to patients” said the hypochondriac, “so I suppose a bit of behaviour therapy would help, you know, the good old fashioned Kentucky treatment, or the Texas cowboy approach”. “What is the Kentucky treatment” said the journalist, and the hypochondriac replied ‘you know: a good spanking should make them wake up to themselves”, and then the journalist added ” and what is the Texas cowboy approach”, and the hypochondriac replied “Oh, they don’t muck around: they would just give them a good swift kick up the arse”.

2. There are two types of psychiatrists . . . those who think that you can control pain with the power of the mind and psychotherapy . . . and those who suffer from pain.

3. How can psychiatrists convince themselves that you can control pain with the power of your mind or psychotherapy . . . because the psychiatrists are full of bright ideas and patients have the pain.

4. Did you hear about the doctor who thought that patients who complained about abdominal pain were imagining things. That was before they invented the camera pill. Now he is undergoing cognitive behavioral psychotherapy for a thought disorder.

Other original non-medical jokes

1. Why did the chicken cross the road . . . How should I know I’m not a chicken.

2. News reporter to egg . . . what came first the chicken or the egg . . . egg’s reply . . . I don’t know, ask the chicken, he’s been around longer than me.

3. A twenty first century rocket scientist, code named Einstein, was in the middle of a sandy desert. To his left was a trail of horses hoof prints leading east, and off in the distance was a thick cloud of dust. The scientist spoke into his mobile phone and said ‘Einstein to space station’ . . . ‘which way did they go, which way did they go?’.

4. There is a fine line between being funny and being stupid. I know because I keep tripping over it, and I’ve got a sore toe, cracked ribs, and a fractured skull. Will someone call an ambulance .

5. Question; What did the Irishman say when he was out surfing with his mates and he saw a man-eating shark circling them . . . Answer; Duck.

6. Why did the lilly livered Irish chicken cross the road and then come back and cross it again, and then come back again, and cross it again in peak hour traffic? . . . He was afraid of footpaths.

Medical Jokes from other sources

1. Doctor doctor I have a sore foot what should I do………. Have you tried limping.

2. A man consults a psychiatrist and says ……… doctor doctor please help me . . . you have got to help me …. I am at my wits end what is wrong with me please help! you’ve gotta help me!!………. psychiatrists reply…… I know what is wrong with you… you are crazy…… At this point the patient became furious and slammed his fist down on the desk and said. ….. I demand a second opinion….to which the psychiatrist replied……you are ugly too.

3. A man walked into the bar with his pet dog. The barman said “you can’t bring your dog in her, take him outside” . . . The man replied “but he is not an ordinary dog”. . . and the barman said “why not?” . . . and the man replied “because he can play the piano” . . . “OK then” said the barman “we have a piano in the corner, send him over and let’s see what he can do” . . . The man then signaled his dog to go over to the piano so it scampered across and sat on the piano stool and was about to hit the keys when another great big ugly looking dog rushed through the door and grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and ran out again . . . “What happened there?” said the startled barman . . . and the man replied “Oh, that was his mother, she wants him to be a doctor”.