Manky old bastard that he was, Freud was right. Our lives are dominated by our own private battles against our neuroses, and when you thing you have won, you are presented with a new set many, many times more complex.
As we know, Freud eventually gave in to his, and used his so-called Freudian analysis to see as women in the nip as he possibly could.
To boil the coke-addled Freud down to the sweet-smelling glue of this theories, you find that it's all to do with discovering you have a Johnson at an early age, whilst your mother does not. There follows all those sticky problems associated with wondering what to do with all your spare parts, and why trying to stick them in the wrong hole is generally seen as a Bad Thing in polite society.
The problem I have with Freudian analysis is this: it's all bollocks. Bollocks that conveniently ignores the fact that 99.9 per cent of us have absolutely no desire to see the furry axe wound of a close relative.
And besides, I confess that I am a Foucaultian. It's all about the power, people. Power in relationships, the power we hold over others, and the power others hold over us through the use of knowledge, authority and big pointy sticks with nails through the end. Michael Foucault knew all this, mainly through having them stuffed up his bottom in a way that Sigmund Freud could only dream of and blame his mother afterwards.
Still, I have yet to come to terms with my unnatural desire for office cleaners, yet somebody still has to come every morning to empty my bin. That's "empty my bin" in the true get-rid-of-my-office-waste sense; and not in any other sense that Dr Freud wrote several closely-worded volumes on, summarizing that I want to see office cleaners in the nip. It's a power relationship, that's all it is. Things have never been the same since she traded up to a Dyson.
This is what happens when you allow somebody such as myself to get an education.
Edit: I can't believe I left this off the end:
I am not mad.