Many moons ago, a strange thing happened. There was a man called Colin who was very, very depressed. For weeks he could think of nothing but doom and gloom. He was unable to work and his employer was getting angry. His wife found the entire thing highly tedious and told him to pull himself together. Still he could not lift the melancholy that threatened to choke the life out of him. Eventually he accepted that maybe he had a medical, or at the very least psychological problem. Under duress from his wife and lectures from his boss he conceded and went to visit a psychiatrist. He explained the situation to the doctor. Even discussing it did not help him feel better, in fact it highlighted his absurd situation and Colin felt lower than low. The doctor seemed to be intrigued with the ailment. There appeared to be no cause and even a simple symptomatic diagnosis eluded the shrink. After an additional session and several failed therapies, the doctor tried for some alternative remedies.

He said that even as a psychiatrist he sometimes felt sad and low. He explained that he found the best thing to lift him out of the mood was to go to the local circus. Colin was not impressed at this juvenile solution. This only furthered spiraled him into depression. The doctor said honestly the best thing was going to the local circus and watching the clown. The doctor went on and on about how fun and jovial this particular clown was. "He always cheers me up with the costume and make up. Maybe it will work for you. He is always smiling and happy," the doctor explained.
"I know" said Colin "I am that clown"