Doorbell rings. Lady opens the door, a milkman stands there.

Milkman (Eric): Pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake baker’s man. Good morning, madam, I’m a psychiatrist.
Lady (Graham): You look like a milkman to me.
Milkman: Good. (ticks form on his clipboard) I am in fact dressed as a milkman... you spotted that - well done.
Lady: Go away.
Milkman: Now then, madam. I’m going to show you three numbers, and I want you to tell me if you see any similarity between them. (holds up a card saying ‘3’ three times)
Lady: They’re all number three.
Milkman: No. Try again.
Lady: They’re all number three?
Milkman: No. They’re all number three. (he ticks his board again) Right. Now. I’m going to say a word, and I want you to say the first thing that comes into your head. How many pints do you want?
Lady: (narrowing her eyes, suspecting a trap) Er, three?
Milkman: Yoghurt?
Lady: Er... no.
Milkman: Cream?
Lady: No.
Milkman: Eggs?
Lady: No.
Milkman: (does some adding up and whistling) Right. Well, you’re quite clearly suffering from a repressive libido complex, probably the product of an unhappy childhood, coupled with acute insecurity in adolescence, which has resulted in an attenuation of the libido complex.
Lady: You are a bloody milkman.
Milkman: Don’t you shout at me, madam, don’t come that tone. Now then, I must ask you to accompany me down to the dairy and do some aptitude tests.
Lady: I’ve got better things to do than come down to the dairy!
Milkman: Mrs. Ratbag, if you don’t mind me saying so, you are badly in need of an expensive course of psychiatric treatment. Now I’m not going to say a trip to the dairy will cure you, but it will give hundreds of lower-paid workers a good laugh.
Lady: All right... but how am I going to get home?
Milkman: I’ll run you there and back on my psychiatrist’s float.
Lady: All right.

(The milkman and lady walk down her garden path. As they go out of the garden gate there is a cat on the garden wall.

CAPTION and arrow: ‘A CAT’

The cat explodes. The milkman motions her towards the milk float with a large signboard which reads: ‘Psychiatrist’s Dairy Ltd’. Just as they are getting in, she points to all the files in the back in milk crates.)

Lady: What are those?
Milkman: They’re case histories. (drives off; the van’s speaker announces: ‘Psychiatrists! Psychiatrists!’ The doctor from the Scots sketch hails him) Yes, sir?
Doctor (Michael): Ah, good morning. I’m afraid our regular psychiatrist hasn’t come round this morning... and I’ve got an ego block which is in turn making my wife over-assertive and getting us both into a state of depressive neurosis.
Milkman: Oh, I see, sir. Who’s your regular, sir?
Doctor: Jersey Cream Psychiatrists.
Milkman: Oh yes, I know them. (puts down crate and gets out note pad) Right, well, er, what’s your job, then?
Doctor: I’m a doctor.
Milkman: ... Didn’t I see you just now under a Scotsman?
Doctor: Yes, but I am a doctor. Actually, I’m a gynaecologist but that was my lunchhour.
Milkman: (taking a card out of crate and showing it to the doctor) What does this remind you of?
Doctor: Two pints of cream.
Milkman: Right... well I should definitely say you’re suffering from a severe personality disorder, sir, sublimating itself in a lactic obsession which could get worse depending on how much money you’ve got.
Doctor: Yes, yes, I see. And a pot of yoghurt, please.

Cut to a psychiatrist called Dr. Cream in his office.

Dr. Cream (Terry J): I would like to take this opportunity of complaining about the way in which these shows are continually portraying psychiatrists who make pat diagnoses of patients’ problems without first obtaining their full medical history.

Cut back to milkman with doctor.

Milkman: Mind you, that’s just a pat diagnosis made without first obtaining your full medical history.