Two old ladies are having a cigarette outside the old folks home and it starts to rain. One of them suddenly pulls a condom out of her handbag, unravels it and puts it over the cigarette so it doesn’t get wet.
“Ooh, what’s that, Betty?” the other asks.
“It’s called a condom, they sell them at the chemist’s dear,” she answers.
So the other goes to the chemist’s and, when asked for a condom by such an elderly lady and seeing an opportunity for mirth, the young oik behind the counter smirks and asks, “so what would you like, a ribbed one, a French tickler, flavoured?”
“Oh, I don’t mind, dear, as long as it fits a Camel.”
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