A Scottish Solder in full dress uniform marches into a chemists.

Very carefully he opens his sporran and pulls out a neatly folded cotton bandanna, 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 bandanna, 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 chemists 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.”