Young Lieutenant, Smythe-Worthington reported to his first military assignment, at one of those far-flung outposts of the British Empire, and made an office call on the Commanding Officer.
" SIR!", he called out, while saluting smartly, "Reginald Smythe-Worthington; Lieutenant of Quartermaster, reporting for duty!"
The Colonel welcomed him to the unit, gave him an orientation on the local area, and described the duties for which he'd be responsible. At the end of his pitch, the Colonel said, "Although we work hard here, and conditions are a bit austere, we DO manage to have SOME fun. For instance, today is Thursday. On Thursday nights the officers all get together at my quarters, smoke great cigars, and play poker into the small hours of the morning. We find it's a great morale booster!"
"I'm sorry, sir", the lieutenant replied, "but I don't believe in gambling, and the smell of cigar smoke makes me queasy."
The Colonel paused for a moment. "I see . . . . . . Well . . . , no matter, because tomorrow is Friday, and on Friday we get together in the Officers' Mess, tap into the rum and gin rations, and get good and drunk. It's a fine way to decompress after an exhausting week."
"I'm sorry, sir", interrupted the lieutenant, "but I promised my mother I wouldn't take up drinking while I was in the military."
The Colonel again paused for a moment, and stared at the lieutenant. "I see... Well, that's that's quite alright. Because the next night is Saturday, and since it's the weekend we all head over to the nearby town to court the women. The women are a wild and primative bunch, as you might imagine, and their love-making can go on all night."
"Sir, I'm sorry", replied the lieutenant, "but I really have no desire to associate with women of such loose morals."
The Colonel stared silently at the lieutenant for several long moments. Finally, with a questioning look on his face, he asked, "Are you "queer", Smythe-Worthington?"
"NO, SIR!", the young officer emphatically replied, with a look of revultion on his face.
The Colonel again stared at him. " Pity. . . . . . . . You're not much going to enjoy Sunday, either."