It's every man's dream - a pill to make women want more sex. According to Boehringer Pharmaceuticals, that dream could be a reality in a few years, in the form of the strangely-named flibanserin. But is it the latest wonder-drug or just a glorified sleeping pill? Read on.

Flibanserin was originally developed as an antidepressant, but in clinical trials against depression it reportedly failed to perform better than placebo. The standard for getting approved as an antidepressant is low, so this is quite an achievement.

The BBC today described flibanserin as the "Female Viagra", which is rather confusing, because it's meant to increase sexual desire, which is one thing Viagra (sidenafil) doesn't do. The reason for the Female Viagra headline is that, as Professor John Thorp says:

"It's essentially a Viagra-like drug for women in that diminished desire or libido is the most common feminine sexual problem, like erectile dysfunction is in men"

We all know about movies that are so bad, they're good. But could the same thing apply to doctors?

As I described last week, Desiree Jennings is a young woman from Virginia who developed horrible symptoms, including muscle spasms and convulsions, after getting a flu vaccine. It looked a bit like a form of brain damage called dystonia.

Numerous neurologists concluded that her illness was mostly or entirely psychogenic. A certain Dr Rashid Buttar, however, said that she was suffering from neurological damage caused by toxins in the flu vaccine.

Buttar gave her chelation therapy to flush the toxins out. Within 15 minutes, she was cured. Biologically speaking, this is ludicrous. It's flat-out impossible that chelation could reverse brain damage in 15 minutes, even if Jennings did have brain damage in the first place.

But Buttar's treatment worked, amazingly well by all accounts. This is not surprising, because the illness was psychological in nature, and Dr Buttar's treatment was, psychologically, very effective. Jennings was admitted to Dr Buttar's private clinic; she had IV lines put in to her arm; Dr Buttar attached the chelation treatment to the IV drip and, in a textbook example of how to produce a placebo effect:

I told her "Now the magic should start", prepared her for what I expected to happen. (interview with Dr Buttar, 05:30 onwards)

Previously I wrote about a small study finding that smoked marijuana helps with HIV-related pain. In the last month, two more clinical trials of medical marijuana - or rather, marijuana-based drugs - for pain have come out.

First, the good news. Johnson et al tested a mouth spray containing the two major psychoactive chemicals in marijuana, THC and CBD. Their patients were all suffering from terminal cancer, which believe it or not, is quite painful. Almost all of the subjects were already taking high doses of strong opiate painkillers: a mean of 270 mg morphine or equivalent each day, which is enough to kill someone without a tolerance. (A couple of them were on an eye-watering 6 grams daily). Yet they were still in pain.

Patients were allowed to use the cannabinoid spray as often as they wanted for 2 weeks. Lo and behold, the THC/CBD spray was more effective than an inactive placebo spray at relieving pain. The effect was modest, but statistically significant, and given what these people were going through I'm sure they were glad of even "modest" effects. A third group got a spray containing only THC, and this was less effective than the combined THC/CBD - on most measures, it was no better than placebo. THC is often thought of as the single "active ingredient" in marijuana, but this suggests that there's more to it than that. This was a relatively large study - 177 patients in total - so the results are pretty convincing, although you should know that it was funded and sponsored by GW Pharma, whose "vision is to the global leader in prescription cannabinoid medicines". Hmm.

Jamie Talan's Deep Brain Stimulation: A New Treatment Shows Promise In The Most Difficult Cases is the first book to offer a popular look at DBS, one of the more exciting emerging treatments in neurology and psychiatry.

Deep Brain Stimulation is not a textbook and the depth of scientific detail is kept pretty low, but the breadth of the material is good. Talan reviews the many kinds of disorders for which DBS has been trialled, from the early 1990s when it was used in Parkinson's disease up to the past five years where it's been tried for everything from epilepsy, depression and Tourette's Syndrome up to lifting patients out of persistent vegetative states (maybe).

Unfortunately, Talan doesn't discuss the controversial history of the first era of human brain stimulation, including the morally murky work of Robert G. Heath at Tulane University in the 1960s. She mentions Tulane once in passing but more detail would have been welcome, if only because it's a rather spicy tale.

The book's most engaging passages are the stories of individual patients. There's the man with Parkinson's who experienced amazing benefits from DBS, and who was so keen to keep them that he didn't tell doctors about the infection which developed a few weeks after surgery, in case they took the electrode out. After literally keeping the infected site under his hat for a few days, it progressed to a brain abscess, and he nearly died. Happily, he not only survived but was able to get the electrodes reimplanted.

Then there's the most moving case, that of the woman suffering from severe OCD and depression, who was given experimental DBS for the former condition. She died by suicide several months later, but said in her suicide note that the DBS had worked - her OCD symptoms were gone. Her depression was as bad as ever, though, and this is what led her to suicide. She wanted people to know that deep brain stimulation helped her, and didn't want her death to go down in the records as a mark against it.

The precursor to DBS was ablative neurosurgery - destroying particular parts of the brain in order to relieve symptoms. Talan describes its use in movement disorders such as Parkinson's, but she glosses over the history of "psychosurgery", the use of surgery to treat mental illness. People using DBS in psychiatry often prefer not to talk about psychosurgery - it's not exactly good PR. But clearly it is relevant. For all its faults, psychosurgery did seem to help some patients, which is why it's still used today in rare cases, although DBS may soon replace it.

DBS for depression and OCD usually target the same prefrontal white matter pathways that psychosurgery severed, so scientifically, psychosurgery has lessons for DBS. The ethical issues overlap too. Although DBS is reversible, unlike brain lesioning, it carries the same risks of serious complications like infection or brain bleeding. And there's the same question of whether seriously mentally ill people can give informed consent.

The book's strongest chaper is the last, which covers the ethical and practical difficulties of DBS. The danger is that enthusiastic doctors with no experience of the procedure, encouraged by the tales from other hospitals, might start doing it inappropriately. There's also a risk that patients or their families might volunteer for DBS prematurely or have impossibly high expectations. The initial results have been very promising, but there have been no large placebo-controlled trials so far (except in some movement disorders). And even with the best surgeons, in most disorders the response rate seems to hover around the 50-60% mark. Talan warns that DBS risks being a victim of its own hype. That's an important message.

You may already have heard about Desiree Jennings.

In a matter of a few short weeks I lost the ability to walk, talk normally, and focus on more than one stimuli at a time. Whenever I eat I know, without fail, that my body will soon go into uncontrollable convulsions coupled with periods of blacking out.

I predict that they will be able to “cure” her, because psychogenic disorders can and do spontaneously resolve. They will then claim victory for their quackery in curing a (non-existent) vaccine injury.

People seem more willing to accept the mind-over-matter powers of "the placebo" than they are to accept the existence of psychosomatic illness.

It's always nice when a local boy makes good in the big wide world. Many British neuroscientists and psychiatrists have been feeling rather proud this week following the enormous amount of attention given to Professor David Nutt, formerly the British government's chief adviser on illegal drugs.

Formerly being the key word. Nutt was sacked (...write your own "nutsack" pun if you must) last Friday, prompting a remarkable amount of condemnation. Critics included the rest of his former organisation, the Advisory Council on the Misuse of Drugs (ACMD), and the Government's Science Minister. The UK's Chief Scientist also spoke in favour of Nutt's views. Journalists joined in the fun with headlines like "politicians are intoxicated by cowardice".

"The sacking of a government adviser on drugs shows Britain's politicians can't cope with intelligent debate... the position of the Labour government and of the leading opposition party, the Conservatives, which vigorously supported Nutt's sacking, has no merit at all. It deals a significant blow both to the chances of an informed and reasoned debate over illegal drugs, and to the parties' own scientific credibility."

"Where there is a clear and serious problem [i.e. cannabis health problems], but doubt about the potential harm that will be caused, we must err on the side of caution and protect the public. I make no apology for that. I am not prepared to wait and see."

"the precautionary principle - if you’re not sure about a drug harm, rank it high... at first sight it might seem the obvious decision – why wouldn’t you take the precautionary principle? We know that drugs are harmful and that you can never evaluate a drug over the lifetime of a whole population, so we can never know whether, at some point in the future, a drug might lead to or cause more harm than it did early in its use."

Coffee contains caffeine, and as everyone knows, caffeine is a stimulant. We all know how a good cup of coffee wakes you up, makes you more alert, and helps you concentrate - thanks to caffeine.


Or does it? Are the benefits of coffee really due to the caffeine, or are there placebo effects at work? Numerous experiments have tried to answer this question, but a paper published today goes into more detail than most. (It caught my eye just as I was taking my first sip this morning, so I had to blog about it.)

The authors took 60 coffee-loving volunteers and gave them either placebo decaffeinated coffee, or coffee containing 280 mg caffeine. That's quite a lot, roughly equivalent to three normal cups. 30 minutes later, they attempted a difficult button-pressing task requiring concentration and sustained effort, plus a task involving mashing buttons as fast as possible for a minute.

The catch was that the experimenters lied to the volunteers. Everyone was told that they were getting real coffee. Half of them were told that the coffee would enhance their performance on the tasks, while the other half were told it would impair it. If the placebo effect was at work, these misleading instructions should have affected how the volunteers felt and acted.

Several interesting things happened. First, the caffeine enhanced performance on the cognitive tasks - it wasn't just a placebo effect. Bear in mind, though, that these people were all regular coffee drinkers who hadn't drunk any caffeine that day. The benefit could have been a reversal of caffeine withdrawl symptoms.

Second, there was a small effect of expectancy on task performance in the placebo group - but it worked in reverse. People who were told that the coffee would make them do worse actually did better than those who expected the coffee to help them. Presumably, this is because they put in extra effort to try to overcome the supposedly negative effects. This paradoxical placebo response reminds us that there's more to "the placebo effect" than meets the eye.

Finally, no-one who got the decaf noticed that it didn't actually contain caffeine, and the volunteer's ratings of their alertness and mood didn't differ between the caffeine and placebo groups. So, this suggests that if you were to secretly replace someone's favorite blend with decaf, they wouldn't notice - although their performance would nevertheless decline. Bear that in mind when considering pranks to play on colleagues or flatmates.

It looks like science has just confirmed another piece of The Wisdom of Seinfeld:

Elaine: Jerry likes Morning Thunder.
George: Jerry drinks Morning Thunder? Morning Thunder has caffeine in it. Jerry doesn't drink caffeine.
Elaine: Jerry doesn't know Morning Thunder has caffeine in it.
George: You don't tell him?
Elaine: No. And you should see him. Man, he gets all hyper, he doesn't even know why! He loves it. He walks around going, "God, I feel great!"
- Seinfeld, "The Dog"