Two nuns stand smoking outside their convent.
There’s a crack of thunder, the clouds roll in, and it starts to rain.
The younger of the nuns, Sister Agnes, pulls out a c0nd0m, bites the end off, and rolls it over her cigarette.
The older nun, Sister Rosemary, looks on, dumbfounded.
“What in the Lord’s good name is that you’ve put on your cigarette, Sister Agnes?” She says.
“Why,” says Sister Agnes, “it’s a c0nd0m.” She holds her cigarette up in the rain. “It stops your cigarette getting wet.”
“Well, that’s marvellous!” Sister Rosemary gasps. “What a fine idea.”
The next day, Sister Rosemary — suitably impressed — decides to walk down to the pharmacy in the village.
“Good morning!” She smiles to the Saturday boy behind the till. “I’d like some c0nd0ms please.”
“Oh!” the boy exclaims, looking for something to say, and visibly red. “Well… um… how… how many would you l-like?”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” says Sister Rosemary, smiling, “as long as they fit on a Camel…”
