Typical CSM

A crusty old Sergeant Major found himself at a gala event hosted by a local liberal arts college. There was no shortage of extremely young, idealistic ladies in attendance one of whom approached the Sergeant Major for conversation.
She said, "Excuse me, Sergeant Major, but you seem to be a very serious man. Is something bothering you?"
"Negative, ma'am," the Sergeant Major said, "Just serious by nature."
The young lady looked at his awards and decorations and said, "It looks like you have seen a lot of action."
The Sergeant Major's short reply was, "Yes, ma'am, a lot of action."
The young lady, tiring of trying to start up a conversation, said, "You know, you should lighten up a little. Relax and enjoy yourself."
The Sergeant Major just stared at her in his serious manner.
Finally the young lady said, "You know, I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but when is the last time you had sex?"
The Sergeant Major looked at her and replied, "1955."
She said, "Well, there you are. You really need to chill out and quit taking everything so seriously! I mean, no sex since 1955!" She took his hand and led him to a private room where she proceeded to "relax" him several times.
Afterwards, and panting for breath, she leaned against his bare chest and said, "Wow, you sure didn't forget much since 1955!"
The Sergeant Major, glancing at his watch, said in his matter-of-fact voice, "I hope not, it's only 2130 now."

This one is like the one where the CSM approached a 'lady of the night' and asked her "how much would it be for his company for the night". The young lady looked him up and down and in reply, with a grin, "for you old man a special price of forty dollars".
The CSM said "done", then spun around on his heels and called out "Bravo Company Fall in".

Then there was the RSM of the Scottish regiment who fronted up to the bootmaker with a punctured condom and asked how much it would cost to put a couple of patches on it. The bootmaker took a look and quoted him $5.

The next day the RSM returned and announces "The regiment accepts y'r tender."

Quote:

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Originally Posted by AlexS

The next day the RSM returned and announces "The regiment accepts y'r tender."

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Now Alex i find that hard to believe, a true scotsman would have done a cost comparison with a new item and worked out that he could have bought a whole packet for that amount and given every company in the regiment a new one each and still have a couple of spares for himself

He may well have been the same RSM of a Highland regiment stationed in the desert just after WWII.

He was showing the new adjutant around the camp - which was absolutely immaculate - all the metal polished to a brilliant shine, every stone painted white etc, etc. The only sour note was a crappy looking old corrugated iron hut tucked in behind the MT workshop.

"What's in the hut, Sarn't Major?" said the adjutant.

"The camp camel, sairr," replied the RSM.

"What on earth do we need a camel for?"

"it's for the men, sairr. This is a lonely spot. No women, ye underrstand."

"Good God!" said the adj. "What a disgusting notion! I'm surprised at you, Sarn't Major, for allowing such a thing!"

"Aye well. They're soldiers, sairr, no' choirboys, ye ken."

Several weeks went by. Lonely, difficult weeks for the adjutant. He made his way to the regimental offices and asked the RSM for the key to the camel's hut. A completely inscrutable Highland expression on his face, the RSM dug into his sporran and, with a fist the size of a well-fattened ham, handed over the key.

The adjutant unlocked the shed and went in, closing the door behind him. There was a pause and then an unholy row erupted! Banshee howling noises, foul language, thumps, crashes and screams erupted from the hut - which shook upon its foundations as dust and flakes of rusty corrugated iron burst from its walls and roof.

The commotion continued for several minutes then ceased. The adjutant emerged, his kilt hanging in tatters, his hat gone, both stockings in ruins about his ankles. He had a bloody nose, two black eyes and several missing teeth. He handed the key back to the RSM.

"Mr McDonald," he said. "That was, without doubt, the most appalling sexual encounter I have ever experienced. How on earth do the men manage?"

"Well, sairr," replied that very senior NCO. "It's customairry for them to saddle up yon camel and ride to the brothel in the nearrby toon."