A Scot on a desert island
 

A Scotsman has been stranded on a desert island for 18 months. One afternoon while gazing at the horizon from the beach. He notices a small black speck slowly moving towards him in the water.
As the speck grows nearer he can make out the form of a woman swimming closer and closer, until she finally emerges from the surf. A tall, well endowed, beautiful, young redhead in a wet suit. A feast for his lonely eyes.

Astounded at his luck, he runs toward the surf to greet her. But before he can say a word, she looks him up and down and asks, with a twinkle in her eye and a sultry lilt.

“How long have you been here you poor, poor man?”

“I've been stuck on this forsaken island for a year and a half” he replies

“Oh, that's terrible” she says, then asking “When was the last time you had a smoke?”

“18 months, when me ship went down in a brutal storm” he replies shaking his head in remembrance.

With that, the lovely vision reaches into her suit and withdraws a fresh pack of his favorite Player cigarettes.

“Oh, and what a fine smoke this is” he says lighting his first smoke in 18 months, savoring the rich flavor.

“How long has it been since you've had a drink?” she coos

“It's been far too long since the nectar of Scotland has crossed these lips” says he, inhaling his smoke.

Again, she reaches into her suit, this time coming up with a bottle of aged single malt Scotch.

“Oh Heavens be blessed, sweet nectar sate this poor lost Scot” he utters, drinking deeply from the bottle with a forgotten smile.

Seeing the pleasure these little things have brought to the Scot, coyly she asks
“When was the last time you played around?” as she unzips her wet suit.

“Oh, blessed begorah my young beauty. Don't tell me you've go a set of Golf clubs in their too!”

Good one. Kind of saw it coming, but still good.