Back in the days of the glorious British Empire, a young officer arrived at his first posting, the command of a tiny fort in the middle of the desert, twenty miles from the nearest town.
His new second-in-command is showing him around the base, when just outside the fort’s walls they come across a decrepit, flea-ridden old camel.
‘What’s this bloomin’ camel for?’ asked the officer?
‘Well, sir,’ his second-in-command replied, ‘the troops, stuck out here in the desert for months at a time, have certain… er… manly needs, from time to time. And when they need to do something about them, they use old Deirdre the camel here’.
The officer, rather embarrassed, says nothing, and continues with the tour.
A few months go by, and the officer is beginning to feel those ‘manly needs’ himself. So he calls his number two and says:
‘I feel I may… erm… require the services of Deirdre the camel tonight. Tell me, when the men…erm… use her, do they have her bathed first?’
‘Well then, see to it that she is bathed’.
‘They also have her flea-powdered, first, sir’.
‘Very good, see that that is done, too. And I couldn’t help but notice that she is a rather tall animal. Tell me, do the men use a ladder when they, erm… mount her?’
‘Yes sir, always’.
‘Very well, see to it that a ladder is provided’.
‘Very good sir. She’ll be prepared for you within the hour.’
After an hour, the officer is escorted to the side of the fort, where Deirde waits, powdered, washed and with a ladder by her side.
The officer moves the ladder to the back of the animal, climbs it, drops his pants and begins furiously ramming into the backside of the animal. He motions to his second-in-command:
‘Tell me, is this how the men do it?’
‘Well, no sir, they normally ride the camel to the nearest town and pay for a prostitute, sir’.