A fan on the street praises Frasier for the thoughtful and articulate comparisons he occasionally uses to illustrate callers’ predicaments on his radio show. His ego swelling, the verbose psychiatrist soon begins to work increasingly elaborate and convoluted similes, metaphors, analogies and syllogisms into every single call until even his most basic advice is all but incomprehensible.
Niles is torn between a choice of two new belts at an upscale men’s clothing store, and wonders if it’s ultimately more fashionable to purchase the aesthetically pleasing but discounted belt, or one that’s boastworthily expensive but garish and uncomfortable. He decides to call Frasier from his cell phone for guidance, but is met with a tidal wave of extraneous comparisons between himself and the narrator of Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken”, elementary particles caught in quantum superposition and obscure Norse characters in search of the megingjörð, the deity Þórr’s mythical belt of strength. The elder brother’s rambling allusions continue to evolve in passion and complexity until Niles finally terminates the call. Wandering outside in deep thought over the dilemma, the beltless doctor is arrested after his pants fall down in front of a crowded elementary school.
Daphne misplaces a decimal point while comparing the exchange rates of American and British currency, leading her to believe that her several thousand US dollars of saved-up housekeeping income are worth millions in British pounds. After retrieving the funds - always paid in cash “for tax purposes” - from under the mattress in her bedroom, the longsuffering servant dramatically quits her post, storming from the Cranes’ apartment and heading straight for the airport whereupon she’ll return home to Manchester a millionaire. As she attempts to pay the agitated cab driver for her expensive crosstown ride, Daphne is horrified to discover that every single one of her hoarded bills is merely a detailed counterfeit bearing portraits of Frasier’s face.
Martin attempts to choose his own breakfast cereal the next morning without Daphne there to prepare his meals. He casually turns to his first-born son for aid, but Frasier’s gift for comparison has reached critical mass. The sheer number of breakfast options and stifling banality of Martin’s situation leaves the grandiose therapist at a genuine loss for words, unable to verbalize even a single simile as the confused old man wavers like a flimsy inflatable gorilla in a used car display lot on a windy afternoon.