(after Frasier has been invited to a party downstairs)
Frasier: (waves his hand dismissively) Oh, no, no, thank you. I'm not really in the mood anymore.
Daphne: Oh, don't be a party pooper.
Martin: (waves his hand an a mockingly dismissive manner) Ah, let him be. He's always been that way.
Frasier: (in an irritated and corrective tone) Excuse me, just a second. Maybe it's time for a little lesson about what it's like to live the life of this particular party pooper. I spend the whole damn week ministering to the troubled, and the neurotic, and the sometimes just plain goofy. Then I hang up my earphones, and it doesn't end there! Out on the street, at the cafe, even in this building... more people come up for help... more problems. I suppose they just think it's okay... it's what I do! But every time I try to help them, it cost me a little piece of myself. A little bit here, a little bit there, a little bit here, a little bit there. 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 with people and their problems. The doctor is out.