SIGMUND FREUD AND THE WOMAN WHO LIVED IN HER FRIDGE

When Sigmund Freud was deployed to psychoanalyse a woman living in her fridge, he was unsurprised by her frosty reception.

Or her clumsy attempts at being elusive with orchestrated deception.

The woman was called Anna, which is a common name.

Adding Anna to his list, the great analyst smiled in anticipation of the predictability of her game.

‘You’re not the first woman I have met who lives in their fridge, you know.’ Said Sigmund. ‘Oh no, indeed, a woman called Brigid who, as it turned out, was frigid, did exactly the same.’

‘Was she cured?’ Anna asked after a brief sulk.

‘Ach, no,’ Freud shook his head. ‘She was completely unprocessed. There was some cured ham sharing the fridge with her but I didn’t want to do anything to reinforce her idea that her choice of living quarters was appropriate.’

‘I overheat,’ Anna abruptly explained. ‘The fridge cools me down, lowers my temperature and helps me feel comfortable.’

‘Indeed?’ Freud nodded smugly, delighted with how rapidly she’d thawed.

Nevertheless, her thinking, as indicated by her behaviour, was flawed.

‘You know, Doctor,’ she said coldly. ‘When things are frozen they don’t mind being ignored!’

‘You mean like corpses, perhaps?’ Freud fumbled. Asking the question with his eyebrows more than his mouth as his words were barely mumbled.

‘No, Herr Doctor, I don’t mean the dead. I say that ice is indifferent. You can like it or lump it.’

‘Ice?’ Hissed Freud. ‘You refer to a mass of frozen water. It is no more and no less! Your meaning is unclear to me, Anna, I must confess.’

Anna’s expression showed that she couldn’t care less.

She was a cold-hearted woman, the doctor knew.

Why, even her skin was distinctly blue.

‘Well.’ Sighed Sigmund. ‘You may as well continue to inhabit your fridge. If that’s what you want to do.’