The psychiatrist and the bartender

 

Ever since I was a child I've had a fear of monsters under my bed, so I went to a psychiatrist for help.

'I've got problems.  Every time I go to bed I think there's a monster 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 psychiatrist.

'I'll sleep on it,' I said. 

Six months later, I met the psychiatrist on the street.  'Why didn't you come to see me about those fears you were having?' he asked. 

'Well, eighty pounds 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 a new car.'

'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!' 

Forget about those psychiatrists, go and have a drink with your bartender!