The phsychiatrist had just been reading that the image of the fit, robust Australian had been shattered by a government survey showing that almost half the population suffered from a chronic complaint, when the woman and her daughter were shown in.
“Do begin.” he said.
“Well,” said the woman, “there are many manifestations of my husband’s state, doctor. One is the extraordinary and quite impenetrable bone-structured perimeter of rock-like skull allied with a low response level and a seeming inability to register to certain sounds delivered with utmost clarity into his left earhole.”
“You mean,” said the psychiatrist,” there are response or reaction words and non-reaction words”
“Give him a non-response word,” Interrupted the daughter, eagerly parking her chewing gum on a case history, “and he sits there like a pillar or salt, staring into the middle distance. And his middle stretches for quite a distance.
“Give me an example of responses and non-responses,” said the psychiatrist.
The woman said: “He remains comatose to such words as ‘spade,’ ‘garden,’ ‘house-keeping,’ ‘costume,’ ‘cosmetics’ and ‘it’s-time-you-had-a-talk-with-your-daughter’.”
“His response words include ‘fishing,’ ’food,’ ‘mother’s here,’ ‘Taxation’,’ sheilah’ and ‘Victoria Park acceptances” she went on turning over her notes.
“There are also his non-activity levels, beginning Friday night until Monday morning and his fixation levels in front of the television where he can remain trance-like for three hours, his movements mostly from hand to mouth. Indeed it has been my impression since Life on Earth started that he is reverting to a dinosaur.”
“We call him Dr. Who,” said the daughter.
“But this means surely,” said the psychiatrist “that he is in a space-fantasy world, a science fiction fix, galaxy-orientated with a black hole in his head.”
“We call him Dr. Who,” the woman explained, “because when I have described something of personal interest and mentioned the names of many people he will sit there for two hours after I’ve finished and suddenly he’ll say ‘Who’.”
“He’s a typical Australian man” said the daughter.
“Now why do you think he’s a typical Australian man?” asked the psychiatrist
“Well” she said, “after mother has harangued with him, pleaded with him, threatened him, reasoned with him and illustrated diagrams for him and vibrated the bone structure by his left earhole and he says ‘No’ then I know he’s a typical Australian man because my mother stands with hands on hips and shouts ‘Now isn’t that typical’.”
“Where have you left him?” the psychiatrist asked anxiously.
“Oh,” said the daughter “he said he was going down to the aviary to chat up some birds.”
“I’m afraid I can do nothing” said the psychiatrist. This is perfect case of the chronically chauvinistic typical Australian man. Try a few new response words such as ‘Get lost’ and ‘drop dead!’ But don’t expect too much.”
“Next please.”
As they left, the psychiatrist with a sigh, leant back in his chair and began gently massaging the bone structure by his left earhole
Max Fatchen