Private Atkins joins the French Foreign Legion and is stationed at a remote outpost in the North African desert. After several weeks in barracks he feels a yearning for female companionship.He approaches the evil-looking, scar-faced sergeant, and asks him what the men do for sexual relief around here. "Zere eeez only ze camel, oui?" the sergeant tells him with a leer."I'm not desperate enough to brave that!" replies Atkins, and takes a brisk walk and another cold bath.A week later he's more desperate and asks the sergeant again. "Ze camel, I told you. Use ze camel!" comes the reply.Atkins actually has a look at the camel this time. It's a flea-ridden carpet full of coat-hangers with camel shit matted in the hair round its rump. Atkins doesn't fancy it much.A week later, delirious with unvented lust he goes to the sergeant again, only to be told, "Merde! Ze camel I tell you, ze camel!" That night Atkins creeps out to the camel. "At least its got a pulse," he tells himself as he climbs onto a hay-rack and proceeds to roger the camel to his satisfaction.As he dismounts he sees the sergeant staring open-mouthed in horror and admiration. "How inventive and practical you Engleesh are. Ze other men, zey usually ride ze camel to ze brothel in town!"

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