"He ought to be certified."
Gally stroked his chin thoughtfully. He removed his eyeglass, and gave it a polish.
"I don't think I can go as far as that," he said, "but he certainly ought to see a psychiatrist."
"A what?"
"One of those fellows who ask you questions about your childhood and gradually dig up the reason why you go about shouting 'Fire' in crowded theatres. They find it's because somebody took away your allday sucker when you were six."
"I know the chaps you mean. They dump you on a couch and charge you some unholy fee per half hour. Only I thought they were called head-shrinkers."
"That, I believe, is the medical term."
(from A Pelican At Blandings, by Sir Pelham Wodehouse)
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