Frasier1993

[having gone out of his way to cheer everyone up on his father's birthday, everyone is abandoning Frasier's planned celebration to join a party downstairs]

Frasier:
No, no thank you. I'm not really in the mood any more.

Daphne:
Oh, don't be a party pooper.

Martin:
Ah, leave him. He's always been this way.

Frasier:
Excuse me! Just-just a second! I think it's time we learnt what it is to walk in the shoes of this particular party pooper. I spend the damn week administering to the troubled and the neurotic and the just plain goofy, and then I hang up my earphones and it doesn't end there! Out on the street, in the cafe, even in this building. More people. More problems. I suppose they think it's okay, it's what I do. But every time I try to help them it costs me a little piece of myself. A little bit here, a little bit there, a little bit here, a little bit there... until I end up feeling like a zebra carcass on the Serengeti surrounded by burping vultures! Well, this happened to be one of those weeks. I had my escape planned. I was going to come home for an evening of fun with my extended family. What do I get? I get the four of you going at each other like the Borgias on a bad day! So I roll up my sleeves, and I tend to each one of you. And you all feel better. And the minute you get a whiff of mesquite coming from down below, you are out the door! Without so much as a 'thank you'! Well, thank you for the invitation, but I am, frankly, fed up with people and their problems. The doctor is out.