“The Doctor and the Noperthedron”


The Ballad of Dr P and the Gleaming Stone














In the cavern of a throat so sore,

Where echoes rattled, coughs did roar,

Dr P peered in, with lamp held high,

A crimson tonsil caught his eye.


Amidst the swelling, raw and red,

A secret jewel lay instead—

A shining, gleaming, pearly prize,

An amygdalolith in disguise!


He plucked it forth with surgeon’s grace,

A sparkle lit the patient’s face.

From pain and pus to gemstone lore,

The tonsil sang, “I ache no more!”


So raise a cheer for stones so small,

That hide in tonsils, one and all.

For Dr P, with steady hand,

Turns grit to legend, jewel to brand.














A Clinical Lament in 152 Baffling Facets


Dr P. Mandible, GP Emeritus with special interest

Around the tonsil did his torch rest

When deep in the tonsillar fossa or perhaps a dream

He spotted a shape that began to scream.


“Good heavens!” he gasped, “Is that a prismed spleen? 

Or a dental cyst shaped like a mezzanine?”  

He poked it with his tweezers, he prodded with great care.

It snipped at his gloves with geometrical flair.


“152 faces? 90 points of pain?

Is this a tumour, a tooth or a topological bane?”  

He recalled Prince Rupert, brave and bold,                                                          

Who fought for the Crown, in stories told.


“Rupert, you rogue! You bored through a cube!                                                  

But they never taught this in med school?”                                        

But alas nowhere in his hefty atlas of abscess and lumps of tonsils and jaw,          

Was any whisper of this Rupertian law.


“Can it pass through itself?” he asked with a wheeze, 

As the Noperthedron jiggled like cheese. 

“Nope,” said the shape, with a smug little pout, 

“I’m the first polyhedron that can’t wiggle out.”


The doctor sat down on a tongue depressor, 

Feeling less like a healer, more like a guesser. 

“Why geometry? Why now? Why me?” 

He sobbed into gauze and a cold cup of tea.


Then the patient coughed out a Platonic sigh, 

And the Noperthedron winked with its 90-eyed eye. 

“Live with your questions,” it whispered, quite sage, 

“Some shapes are just here to baffle your page.”


The Noperthedron has 90 vertices and 152 faces, and it’s the first known convex polyhedron that cannot pass through a copy of itself, defying the Rupert Property.


https://www.quantamagazine.org/first-shape-found-that-cant-pass-through-itself-20251024/?fbclid=IwZnRzaANvG61leHRuA2FlbQIxMQABHp4bSgF7A9YYiyFfknG9Kodi1jm4MhUzXqbhokNgsuptN-c628JiKpz7wMwv_aem_DSAQGDc6T4ZsAClGLfn8Cg



Dr P. Mandible proudly presented the gleaming Noperthedron to none other than Professor Tonsillar Stones, Harvard’s titan of amygdalolith lore. 

The good professor, despite his million publications, was caught in a moment of pure disbelief, jaw dropped, eyes wide, files tumbling from his hands as the smug polyhedron sparkled in Mandible’s tweezers.


Prof. Tonsillar Stones (clutching his forehead, eyes bulging):
“Great calcifications of Galen! I’ve written a million papers on tonsil gravel, but this, why this is even beyond peer review. To even begin to fathom it, I’ll need to get properly stoned!”


“For the first time in his career, Professor Stones admitted that the literature had failed him.”



Med News Daily
“Top Tonolithologist Talks Tonsil Stunner”
Cambridge, MA —

Professor Tonsillar Stones, Harvard’s reigning authority on calcified tonsil debris, was left visibly shaken yesterday when confronted with Dr P. Mandible’s discovery of the so‑called “Noperthedron.”

Clutching at his scattered files, the professor admitted:

“I’ve written a million papers on stones, but this one… I’ll need to get stoned myself before I can even begin to comprehend it.”

Eyewitnesses report that the press conference ended in stunned silence, broken only by the sound of medical journals hitting the floor. 

An esteemed colleague who wishes to remain anonymous reports that “Professor Stones had seen every kind of tonsil gravel in his career—until Dr Mandible produced the Noperthedron. For the first time, the world’s greatest expert admitted he needed to get stoned just to understand it.”


The Journal of Otorhinolaryngological Curiosities
Title: A Novel Convex Amygdalolith Defying the Rupert Property: Case Report and Implications

Abstract: Dr P. Mandible presents the first documented tonsillar calculus with 152 facets and 90 vertices, provisionally termed the “Noperthedron.” Professor Tonsillar Stones (Harvard Medical School), long regarded as the world’s foremost authority on amygdaloliths, described the finding as “a paradigm‑shifting anomaly.” He further noted, “I may require altered states of consciousness to even begin to conceptualize this geometry.” Peer reviewers have requested additional imaging, though one conceded, “This may be the Higgs boson of tonsil stones.”


The Daily Splat
Headline: STONED PROFESSOR GOBSMACKED BY TONSIL GEM!

“Harvard hotshot Prof. Tonsillar Stones, famed for his million‑strong paper trail, was left reeling yesterday when Cardiff’s own Dr. P. Mandible whipped out a glittering ‘Noperthedron’ from a poor patient’s tonsil. The Prof, usually cool as a cucumber, dropped his files and gasped: ‘I’ll need to get stoned just to understand this!’ Witnesses say the Noperthedron winked smugly as if to say, ‘Beat that, Harvard.’”

The Medical Onion
Cover Story: “World’s Leading Expert on Stones Admits He’s Out of His Depth”

In a shocking twist, Professor Tonsillar Stones, who has published more on tonsil gravel than most people have had hot dinners, was floored by Dr Mandible’s discovery. “I’ve spent decades telling people stones are boring, inert lumps,” he confessed, “and now one’s got more faces than a Westminster cabinet.” Sources confirm the professor is considering a sabbatical in Amsterdam “for research purposes.”

The Times of Thought
Feature Essay: When Geometry Meets Flesh: The Noperthedron and the Limits of Expertise

Yesterday’s encounter between Dr P. Mandible and Professor Tonsillar Stones was more than a medical oddity, it was a parable of knowledge itself. The professor, a man who has catalogued every calcified speck of the human throat, found himself undone by a shape that refused to fit his categories. “I’ll need to get stoned to even begin,” he muttered, half in jest, half in despair. In that moment, the Noperthedron became more than a stone: it was a reminder that even the most seasoned experts can be humbled by the universe’s capacity for surprise.

All images have been created with the help of AI and are massively inspired by Larsen of Far Side fame.

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