If symptoms

persist.. .

IS LIFE worth living ? Not in the opin- ion of one of my patients. He referred to the case of the English murderer recent- ly executed in Georgia.

`That bloke in the electric chair — I would have swapped places with him any time, doctor. He should have tried my life. At least his torture only lasted a few seconds or minutes: mine's lasted for years.'

`Come, come,' I expostulated mildly.

`You don't think I could swap next time they put someone in the electric chair, do you?'

`You mean a kind of international cul- tural exchange?'

`I'd be better off dead.'

`I don't think such an exchange would be possible.'

`I suppose it's because of the ethics you take.'

For some reason, an image of a tin of Andrews' Liver Salts appeared in my mind's eye.

`If I can't be dead, I'd be better off in a home, doctor.'

`Why?' I asked.

`People in homes don't have to do the washing up. I live with my wife — I don't see what we're gaining by living alone. Sometimes I have these oubursts with her, they get on my nerves, those out- bursts, and there comes a time when I start throwing things about the house. I change colour when I get an outburst: it's a purple blotchy kind of feeling, like as if you've got hyperthernia.'

`Oh dear,' I said.

`Yes,' he continued, 'and people in homes don't get no trouble off the neigh- bours, neither.'

• 'What trouble?'

`Well, I was going to report them to the police under the Dangerous Dogs Act. Only I didn't because people like them, they don't do nothing at first, but then all of a sudden your windows are broke, and then they bring their dog and make it crap on your path.'

`How do they do that ?' I asked.

`Train it, I suppose. You can train a dog to do anything.'

`I don't think so,' I said.

`These irritations may not bother you, doctor, but they bother me. With people like me you don't know how long you can go without an outburst. I should have clinical help. I mean, some people take 'a shotgun and shoot their neigh- bours over the hedge.'

`But you wouldn't do anything like that?' `No. But just because I've got a place of my own doesn't mean I'm going to run it. I've done enough in my life while others have been lying about doing noth- ing. People don't understand depression — they just say pull yourself together, feed the cat, open the window, and you'll be all right. I want to go in a home.'

`You're a bit young for it,' I said.

`But things get on top of me, like the shopping. Sometimes I feel like getting all the shopping and throwing it around the supermarket.'

`I shouldn't do that,' I said.

`My problem's I'm too timid. If any- body speaks to me I crouch down like a snail. I blame my parents, it's them what made me timid. I even had to go to night school to learn how to speak. When my father took me to the barber he said if you don't behave the barber'll cut your head off. I took him serious.'

`He didn't mean it, I'm sure.'

`Yes, but I didn't know that. Being timid's why I want to kill myself, if I get the chance.'

I looked down at the floor. By my right foot I noticed a little box, put there overnight by the cleaner. It said: 'Rodent bait. Do not touch'.

With a deft movement, I covered it over with a newspaper.

Theodore Dalrymple