In honor of my Scottish ancestors, a parsimonious lot who kept the
Lord's Sabbath and everything else they could get their hands on, I've
always enjoyed the following.

A Highland Guard Regimental Sargent Major (RSM) stopped into an
apothecary (drugstore) one day, resplendent in his regimental kilt.

"May I help you?" asks the druggist. "Oh, aye" says the RSM shyly as
he reaches in to his Sporran (which as you all know is like a small
purse).

He takes out a folded handkerchief, places it on the counter and
extracts a used prophylactic from its folds.

"It's sprung a wee leak" says the RSM. "Kin ya repairrr it?"

"Yes" says the shopkeeper "But it will cost you tuppence and I can
sell you anew one for three pence!"

Put off at this news the RSM slowly folds the proph back into the
handkerchief and places it back in his Sporran.

"I'll be back" he says, as he marches out the door.

The next day the RSM is waiting at the front door when the druggist
opens shop and enters the store and once again places his proph on the
counter.

"Have you come to a decision?" asks the druggist.

"Oh aye" says the RSM, "The Rrrrrrrregiment has voted to repairrrrr
it!
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Lew