Path: harlqn!harlqn.co.uk!pipex!bnr.co.uk!uknet!edcastle!dcs.ed.ac.uk!morna
   From: morna@dcs.ed.ac.uk (Morna J Findlay)
   Newsgroups: rec.humor,soc.religion.quaker,soc.culture.celtic,soc.culture.jewish
   Date: 5 Jan 93 11:03:59 GMT
   References: <LAINS.92Dec31142029@world.std.com> <1hvkf1INN50r@shelley.u.washington.edu> <C09vKL.Dy6@agora.rain.com> <1993Jan3.203648.11085@philmtl.philips.ca>
   Sender: cnews@dcs.ed.ac.uk (UseNet News Admin)
   Reply-To: morna@dcs.ed.ac.uk (Morna J Findlay)
   Organization: Laboratory for the Foundations of Computer Science, Edinburgh U
   Lines: 49

>>   I belive the stereotype of Scots as thrifty or stingy may derive from
>>   the earlier stereotype held by the English that Scotland was a poor -
>>   nay, virtually famine-stricken land, fortunate to be saved from ruin by
>>   the Union with England.
   [bibliography deleted]

..or then again, maybe (taken as a whole), Scots just happen to rank highly
amongst the world's greatest anal retentives?

OBJ:

Foreword : As a born-and-bred Norfolk carrot-cruncher, _I_ find this
one funny. If _you_ find it offensive, that's your problem.

Two yokels, having left school, and with no jobs to go to until the
harvest, set out to explore the world, living off the land. All the
long, hot summer, they swam in the rivers, lazed on grassy banks,
scrumped fruit and vegetables, poached the occasional pheasant or
trout, and slept out under cool, clear, starry summer skies, only
occasionally doing odd jobs in the villages when they ran out of
matches, or needed new bootlaces. As the warm nights grew cooler,
they turned for home, and, inevitably, one night the heavens opened,
and they had to seek shelter at a nearby farmhouse.
Initially, the farmer agreed to feed them, and let them bed down in
his barn, in return for sawing and splitting a huge pile of logs, but
by the time that they had finished, he had taken a liking to them -
his daughter, a pretty, buxom lass of seventeen summers, had been busy
nearby, milking his small herd, and they had paid her scant attention.
So, after supper, while his daughter fussed around in the kitchen, he
worked a few carefully worded questions into the conversation, and
soon established that not only were these two rather dim lads virgins,
but they didn't even know what the word meant! Being an artful sort
(and possibly having a trace of Scot in his ancestry ;-), he decided
to billet them with his daughter that night, after all, she'd be 
perfectly safe, and, with them to keep her warm, he'd not need to use
electric heating in her room, nor listen to her grumbling about the
cold draughts come the morrow.
Well, they bade each other goodnight, and retired to their rooms, the
farmer with a warm brick from the range, and the daughter with the two
yokels, and all was quiet until around two of the clock, when the 
daughter roused one of the yokels, Imploring him to "let her have a
little bit".
"A little bit of wot?", he enquired sleepily. 
"Why _sex_ uff course, you clod!".
"Oi dunt know nuthin about thet.", he replied. So, with few words, and
urgent enthusiasm, she briefly outlined the mechanics of the task to
him, and he decided it would be quicker to indulge her strange ideas
than to argue with her, and then he could get back to sleep (and,
indeed, this proved to be very much the case!), and struggled to adopt
the position she had described.
"Wait!" she almost shouted, "You don't want me to get _pregnant_ do
you? Put this on first, you fool!", and she handed him a condom.
"Wazzis?" he enquired, "Chewing gum?".
Fortunately for her, his body knew what was required of it, even
though his mind hadn't quite grasped the point of the exercise, so she
hastily dressed him in the sheath, and tried to explain its purpose,
more as a distraction from the urgency of her needs than in any hope
of actually educating him, and finally she pulled him onto her. There
he heaved and panted as instructed for nigh on two minutes before he
collapsed, spent, into the part of the bed he had so recently vacated,
and almost immediately resumed that sleep which only the innocent can 
know.
She, being even further from sleep now, tossed and turned for a few
minutes before she resigned herself to the inevitable, and repeated
the entire process with the other yokel.
They awoke, as usual, with the first light of dawn, and, hearing her
venting her anger in the yard where she was hurling stale crusts at
the hens, they decided to leave quietly, and slipped away unnoticed.
The rest of their journey was quite uneventful. Though it rained
often, they shunned farmhouses in favour of an unbroken night's sleep
in a bus-shelter or hayrick, and, a week later, finally found 
themselves at the parting of their ways, on the outskirts of their
hometown. They had thus far avoided talking of their experiences
at the farmyard, their initial amused curiosity having turned to
a nagging disquiet as both soon realised that this was obviously
something _Very Important_, but neither of them had any idea why. So,
having said their farewells, each now stood silently regarding the other,
wondering how to broach the subject again. 
After a minute of shifting from one foot to the other, and nervous
throat-clearing, it was the taller one who found enough bottle :
"Uh, yew remember thet noit we stayed at thet farm?"
"Thet silly farmer's dorter? Oi shud say so!"
"Wellll...."
"Well wot?"
"Well, Oi mean, do _yew_ care if she git pregnant?"
"Carnt roitly say wot I dew."
"Great! Me neither, let's get these blasted things orf, Oim dying for
a p*ss!"
---disclaimer : Nobody here claimed anything!
   




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