Up to the time I first saw a bloke in a kilt, I thought only women wore skirts (apart from the Christian and Marist brothers who attempted to educate me, but they wore full length black dresses, not gay - by which I mean brightly coloured - tartans), so naturally I assumed he was a sheila.
I took the sporran as advertising fertile lushness beneath. It was irresistible. And they say advertising doesn’t work!
Imagine my surprise when I found out what was really under there.
Imagine wee Jock’s surprise.
Imagine how long I spent in hospital.