Psychiatrist vs Bartender

Ever since I was a child, I’ve always had a fear of someone under my bed at night. So I went to a shrink 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 shrink. 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 doctor met me on the street. “Why didn’t you come to see me about those fears you were having?” He asked.

“Well, £80 a visit, three times a week for a year, is £12,480.  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 truck.”

“Is that so?” With a bit of an attitude he said, “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.”


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