THE SCOUT ASSOCIATION is looking for a new Chief Scout. You might think this wouldn’t be difficult for a group whose motto is Be Prepared, but you would be wrong. The process will take almost a year. Last time there were 135 candidates; this time they are expecting more, because they’ve placed an advert.

The Scouts have never done such a thing before: upon reading the ad, that might have been best. The job sounds a bit of a slog. The successful candidate (“he or she”, as the advert is careful to say) is expected to serve for five years with lots of weekend and evening work. You have to provide “personal and strategic motivation, inspiration, leadership and self-esteem” and be a “credible spokesperson at the highest level”. And you have to do it all for free.

See what I mean?

At least you don’t have to be a Scout to apply. But this has met with some disapproval too. As one commentator said: “Lord Baden-Powell (Scouting’s founder) will be tying reef knots in his grave.” John Asplin is the head of the search committee and thinks that he knows Baden-Powell, or B-P as he is called, better than that. “After all,” he says, “B-P hadn’t been a Scout before either.”

This selection is particularly important as Scouting celebrates its centenary in 2007, the highlight of which is a world jamboree in Essex. The closing date for applications is April 25. You can nominate yourself or someone else. The searchers will whittle down the list to 30, and then to five or six for interviews. Expect a decision in time for Christmas.

And, if you want to be prepared, read on. For Scouts isn’t what it used to be. The association, with 450,000 girls and boys and 250,000 adult leaders, now styles itself as Britain’s largest co-educational volunteer organisation for young people. It has a yearly turnover of £25m. There is a “prayer for peace” on Iraq, and Muslim and Hindu and Jewish versions of the Promise. Over the past two years it has introduced new uniforms and badges and the first new programme in 30 years. It seems as if the only thing that has survived is the woggle.

But, as much as I’d like to be open-minded, it is hard to believe that Scouting has become cool. Granted, my mental picture of a Scout is pretty dated: he is wearing dark shorts, tan shirt, Mountie-style hat, gaiters, neckerchief and woggle. (For aficionados, may I recommend Scouting With a Neckerchief by Commodore W. E. Longfellow, 1927, on pinetreeweb.com, an enthusiasts’ Scouting website?) My Scout is kept busy digging latrines, going on hikes, tying knots, singing round campfires and helping little old ladies.

It’s a little bit of a shock, then, to show up at the Scout Hut in the Kent town of Tonbridge at 8pm one rainy Wednesday. The hut is heaving with about 25 boys and girls. They are Explorer Scouts, aged 14 to 18, and most are dressed in some bits that are just about identifiable as uniform. Two boys hug their skateboards, others bang (and I do mean bang) a football against the wall.

“But what if it hits a window?” I demand, rather prissily, of Michael Vanns, the district commissioner.

“Then they pay for it. You cannot stop boys hitting a ball.”

The ball stops, momentarily, for the flag raising and salute. They are split into groups and given a Ready, Steady, Cook challenge. Each Scout gets £1. With this, they have to plan, buy, cook and eat a dinner. And, oh yes, make their own table decorations.

So, I ask Lee, a strapping lad of 16, as we head out to the local Sainsbury’s: is Scouting cool?

The moment this question hits the night air, it sounds too silly to answer. I know that, in the dark, Lee is wincing. At least, as a Scout, he has to be polite. “We used to get the p*** taken out of us,” he says. “It’s not so bad now.”