To be told with a Scottish brogue and add gestures when telling this – don’t know how it will “read”.
One day this young, very large, very handsome member of the Elite Scots Black Guard comes into the local Apothecary.
He goes up to the counter, with his kilt swinging from side-to-side with
each huge stride. Hung around his waist is a small leather pouch, which
he places on the counter, and from it he withdraws a roll of snow-white
cotton batting. As he unrolls the batting, the Apothecarian sees a
neatly placed stretched out condom.
Finally the Guardsman speaks: Whoo much ta be rrrepairrrin’ ma rrubberr?
The Druggist tells him an amount, at which time the skinflint Guardsman
lets out a loud “Hrrumpp”, neatly rolls the batting, replaces it in the
pouch, pulls the draw-string tight, and STOMPS from the Apothecary, with
his kilt fairly flying in the breeze.
As with all good jokes, the scene is repeated on Day #2.
On Day #3, when he opens the pouch and unrolls the batting, the
Apothecarian sees a new shiny coin, and the Guardsman speaks: The
Rrreggiment has authorrizzed me to purrrchase a new one!
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