Dad! Daphne! Anybody home? I still think you're making too big a deal out of this.
Dad, I've never seen Maris this angry.
I swear her eye was twitching like a frog in a science experiment.
When your mother got mad at me, I'd bend her backwards and give her a kiss.
I can't do that with Maris.
She has abnormally rigid vertebrae.
She'd snap like a twig.
Let me guess, Maris moved into the east wing again? Sunday was her 40th birthday.
She said she wanted no acknowledgement.
In a moment I live over and over in my dreams, I believed her! No gifts, no party, no nothing? Say that weeping into a lap robe and you've got her down perfectly.
- Just get her a nice bottle of perfume.
- She gets hives.
- How about candy? - Hypoglycaemic.
- Just get her a dozen roses? - Allergic.
Just sit her down and tell her it was a mistake.
She's touchy about her age.
Even though it's not the first time she's turned 40.
I know.
I'll throw a big party this weekend.
A costume ball with a Louis XIV theme, right down to the wigs and velvet pantaloons.
I presume you both have colds? And so it goes.
Did you find a book lying around? The station manager loaned it to me.
"The Life of Sir Herbert Beerbohm Tree".
A history of English theatre.
You caught me.
It got it hidden under my pillow.
Try to be helpful.
I promised I'd return it today.
Ask Daphne.
She wanted something to put her to sleep.
That book could put her into a coma! - Dr Crane! - Daphne! What are you doing in my room? You were out.
Not that I come in here when you're out.
I came in to get my book.
Which I have, you see.
We'll just be going.
Me and my book.
See Frasier go.
Nadia, tell Mrs Crane I want to speak to her and don't take no for an answer.
Then tell her Dr Crane says please, please, please, please - Maris hung up on you? - She's got Nadia doing her dirty work.
Nadia is Maris's hatchet maid.
What happened to the French guy party? Disaster too.
A branch of Maris' family was slaughtered by the Huguenots.
Let's forget about Maris and have a nice meal in a convivial atmosphere.
- What is she mad about? - Beats me.
Your favourite, Mr Crane.
Creamed onions.
And Dr Crane, special glazed carrots just for you.
You, carve! We don't know what she's mad at but we know who.
If anyone needs me I'll be in me room.
You know where that is! - What did you do? - I went into her bedroom.
Frasier, how could you! No matter how irresistible the urge to press your face against the door, to actually feel the grain of the wood against your cheek, it must be fought! I went in to retrieve my book.
- You're not supposed to go in there.
- What's the big deal? - She doesn't like people in there.
- I let her in my room.
- Women are different.
- That's sexism.
No, it's 35 years of marriage talking.
Women protect their privacy.
You never go in their handbags.
It's always, "Bring me my purse.
" A husband is being robbed at gunpoint and has no money.
The wife still says, "Bring me my purse.
" Your homespun wisdom has pricked the balloon of Frasier's pomposity.
You were wrong, so go in there and apologise.
Go on.
All right.
I'll go into Daphne's room and I will apologise to her.
Alone, Niles! - Yes? - Daphne, it's Dr Crane.
Yes.
Could you open the door, please? I behaved very insensitively this morning and I did need the book but it was wrong of me to go in without your permission and I'm sorry.
It'll never happen again.
Ever.
I'm being very nice.
Well, good night, Daphne.
Wait.
I'm being much too hard on you.
I'm sensitive about my privacy.
No need to explain.
It will never be an issue again.
Thank you for being so understanding.
My problem goes back to growing up in a house of boys.
My brothers were snoops.
They gave me no peace.
It was a filthy rite of passage for the Moon boys.
They'd sneak into the bathroom and peek at me in the shower.
Dear God.
All eight of them? Except for my brother Billy, the ballroom dancer.
He never peeked at me.
Though he did peek at my brother Nigel.
Coffee, Dad? Why not? I'm up six times a night.
I might as well be alert.
Jeez, the disposal's jammed.
Stick your hand down there and see what's stuck, will you? Dad, it's me, Niles.
I can't get my hand in.
Punish a man for being fine-boned.
- Sure it's off? - Positive.
Move away from the switch.
It's wet and slimy.
Like sticking my hand into the mouth of hell.
Call me when the coffee's ready.
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