Greetings failure fans, and welcome to the second of my six dispatches from the frontline of unreason. For those who missed the first DOAH, here's the premise: I, Peter Beech, have offered up my own hide to the squabbling gods of medicine. After years of using western remedies to treat my chronic eczema, I've decided to entrust myself to an 18th century physician, Samuel Hahnemann, and his dubious theories about super-dilution. Homeopathy! It openly flouts the laws of science and yet, for some, it makes sense - like reincarnation, or cheese and jam sandwiches, or Prince.

First up: thanks to everyone who weighed in on last month's thread. My research into online homeopathy debates has shown me that they are probably the basis for all human conflict, so I expected tears, threats and bed-wetting. But you guys - you guys kept it clean. Unfortunately, as several smug types pointed out, your treatment suggestions are for the moment simply good advice that I just can't take. (Isn't it ironic!). In order for this experiment to work, I must let the homeopathic treatment function in isolation; any other changes would muddy the waters and affect the accuracy of my conclusion. Which I already knew, because I did GCSE chemistry too. Having said that, I have made a couple of minor adjustments, which I'll outline below.

So, without further ado, how is it working? Well, it isn't. Not just yet. My skin has actually deteriorated slightly, which is supposedly to be expected. Many homeopaths talk about a "healing crisis" - a period during which the condition worsens as toxins are expelled from the body or the system readjusts to cope with the new medicine. This is "frequently a good sign and indicates that the homeopathy might be effective". The deterioration is no doubt also due to the fact that I've marginally reduced my usage of the big bad steroid creams, as one of my main reasons for turning to alternative therapy was to avoid their serious cumulative side-effects.

Cutting my dosage has illustrated something I'd almost forgotten: how powerful these steroid creams are. Whatever I've thought or said about western medicine over the last few months and years, it does at least allow me to step out of the house looking like a normal human being. With that protection taken down a notch, my symptoms have flared eagerly. I've found that my condition is determining whether or not I go out in the evening, for perhaps the first time in my life. I'd always regarded my eczema as a nuisance, something I could easily cure given a little focus; the truth is that the worst of it was simply well hidden. It's been a bit of a shock to realise the full extent to which I am reliant on my medication.

Alcohol sets the flare-ups off, and so I've begun to budget for those unavoidable heavy weekends. One evening this spring, my face had an argument with some tequila; since then, I've developed a grotesque habit of shedding a layer of skin from my head and neck after every big night on the booze. I sometimes have to wait a full five days for it to die and peel away, piece by piece, before the horrified gazes of those I hold dear. Stag party? Don't schedule anything important for the following week. Previously, a thorough dousing in steroids would have masked some of the ill effects.

I know what you're thinking: ditch the booze. I've cut down a touch, but there are three reasons why I won't give up altogether. One I've already mentioned: all other variables must remain constant if I'm to properly assess the efficacy of homeopathic treatment. Secondly, I am not unreasonably looking for a treatment that allows me to continue to live my life in as normal a way as possible. Thirdly, I'm a member of generation binge. I live for the weekend, and when that weekend comes I find it almost impossible to party without getting a little bit leathered first. Call me a fool, but sobriety would kill my social life. I'd rather have no face for a week than no dance moves on a Saturday night.

Questionable life choices notwithstanding, I find that I'm settling into the gentle swing of homeopathic treatment. My sulphur remedy (6C) comes in the form of small, spherical sugar pills that I pop in four times daily, like teeny-weeny Tic Tacs. Coincidentally, four is roughly the number of times in a day that I suddenly recall I'm supposed to be eating make-believe fairy sweeties to ward off my eczema.

And every morning, late for work, I gulp down my four evening primrose oil capsules, pausing briefly to sigh over the disarming folksiness of these alternative remedy names. Betnovate, Protopic … the prescription trade titles in my bulging medicine drawer have nothing on the homey ring of evening primrose oil and its ilk, which have been in medicinal use for hundreds of years. What a beautiful conclusion it will be if the solution to my troubles has lain in the natural world all along.

Well, we shall see.

This month's verdict

A little pain, no gain, skin remains the same.