Ever since I was a child, I’ve always had a fear of someone under
my bed at night. So I went to a psychiatrist and told him, “I've
got problems. Every time I go to bed I think there's somebody
under it. I'm scared. I think I'm going crazy.”
“Just put yourself in my hands for one year,” said the
psychiatrist. “Come talk to me three times a week and we should be
able to get rid of those fears.”
“How much do you charge?”
“Eighty pounds per visit,” replied the doctor.
“I'll sleep on it,” I said.
Six months later the psychiatrist met me on the street.
“Why didn't you come to see me about those fears you were having?”
he asked.
“Well, Eighty quid a visit three times a week for a year is an
awful lot of money! A bartender cured me for £10. I was so happy
to have saved all that money that I went and bought me a new
pickup!”
“Is that so!” he said with a bit of an attitude. “And how, may I
ask, did a bartender cure you?”
“He told me to cut the legs off the bed! - Ain't nobody under there
now!!!”
DUMP THOSE PSYCHIATRISTS. GO HAVE A DRINK AND TALK TO YOUR BARTENDER.
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