into a chemist shop.
Very carefully he opens his sporran and pulls out a
neatly folded cotton bandana,
unfolds it to reveal a smaller silk square
handkerchief, which he also unfolds
to reveal a condom.
The condom has a number of patches on it.
The chemist holds it up and eyes it critically.
"How much to repair it?" the Scot asks the chemist.
"Six pence," says the chemist.
"How much for a new one?"
"Ten pence" says the chemist.
The Scot painstakingly folds the condom into the
silk square handkerchief
and the cotton bandana, replaces it carefully in
his
sporran and marches
out of the door, shoulders back and kilt swinging.
A moment or two later the chemist hears a great
shout go up outside,
followed by an even greater shout.
The Scottish soldier marches back into the chemist
and addresses the proprietor,
this time with a grin on his face.
"The regiment has taken a vote," he says.
"We'll have a new one."
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