Speaking jokes

POV: Wine Taster in hell.

I was sitting with the best wine ever made on the table in front of me. This silhouette begins to speak, "You have risen to be the most superb Wine Taster on Earth. Then you got run over by a truck hauling freshly made wine to a warehouse. Your crimes are as follows: you left your high school prom date with another man after you got her pregnant, you let your mother believe that the cat ran away after you drowned it in the pool, and you never got married. How do you plead?"

The man looked at the silhouette like it was a purple rabbit.

"Guilty," said the man, "but if you would be so kind would you at least tell me what the wine in front of me tastes and smells like? I will take any punishment you deem fit."

"Very well," said the silhouette, "but you will regret that request."

Out of the shadows comes a boy only looking 19 years old. The boy says, "I will you taster today. I am confident about my sense of taste." The boy takes the first bottle and opens it, pours it into a wine glass, and swirls it around. He then takes a sniff and begins to drink, to the Wine Taster he says, "Mmmm, taste like chicken."

I've come to the conclusion that Trump is the fifth Teletubby.

He's fat, orange, and speaks in gibberish all the time.

So a guy gets a motorcycle with authentic leather seats, and the dealer tells him, "Dude, the rain will ruin the seats. Get it under something if it starts raining, and worst-case scenario, put Vaseline all over the seats to make it waterproof." So he goes to his girlfriend's house that night for dinner, and before he goes inside, she says, "Listen, this is your first time meeting my parents. We have a rule: the first one to speak has to do the dishes." So he walks inside and sees a mountain of dishes, over three months' worth, because no one has spoken, and the stench is awful.

During dinner, he concocted a plan to get someone to speak, so he started doing all of this crazy shit to try and get someone to speak. Not a peep. Eventually, he grabs his girlfriend, bends her over, and starts going to town. Still nothing. The parents are outraged but not speaking because they don't want to do the dishes. After about a minute of this, he walks away and does the same to her mum and starts going to town. Now the dad is pissed and just staring him down with daggers. At that moment, it starts to rain. He remembers his motorcycle is out in the rain, and he grabs the Vaseline out of his pack pocket, and the dad goes, "FINE! I'LL DO THE DISHES!"

What does a foreigner say when he comes to America?

I don't know, I don't speak foreignish...

"Actions speak louder than words."

This doesn't apply to Stephen Hawking, however...

Poipole walks into a bar and says “poipoipoipoi.”

The bartender says, “Sorry, but in order to get takeout, you have to know how to speak a foreign language.” Poipole says “Pika!”

Do you know why no one speaks about George Washington?

John Adams turned him into atoms. John Adams was an alien.

The moment came. The starter dropped his red flag. "They're away!"

Not for one second did Agba need to hunt for Lath in that flying stream of horseflesh. He did not even look for the scarlet and white stripes of the jockey's body-coat. His eyes were fixed on the littlest horse, the littlest horse that got away to a bad start!

The field was far out in front. The big horses were whipping down the steep slope to Devil's Dyke, skimming along the running gap, leaping up the opposite bank and across a long flat stretch. They were beginning to bunch, making narrow gaps. Lath was coming up from behind. He began filling in the gaps. He went through them. He was a blob of watercolor, trickling along the green turf between the other colors.

For a brief second the horses were hidden by a clump of hawthorn trees. Agba's knees tightened. He felt Sham quiver beneath him, saw white flecks of sweat come out on his neck. It was well the grooms were there to hold them both!

The horses were coming around the trees now. The golden blob was still flowing between the other colors. It was flowing beyond them, flowing free!

In full stride, Lath was galloping down the dip and up the rise to the ending post. He was flying past it, leaving the "lusty" horses behind.

"The little horse wins!"

"Lath, an easy winner!"

"Lath, son of Godolphin Arabian, wins!"

People of all ages and all ranks clapped their hands and cheered in wild notes of triumph.

Agba never knew how he and Sham reached the royal stand. But suddenly, there they were. And the Earl of Godolphin was there, too.

"I am pleased to give," Queen Caroline was saying in her sincere, straightforward manner, "I am pleased to give and bestow upon the Earl of Godolphin, the Queen's Plate."

Everyone could see it was not a plate that she held in her hands at all. It was a purse. But only Agba and the Earl knew how much that purse would mean to the future of the horse in England. The Earl looked right between the plumes in the Queen's bonnet and found Agba's eyes for an instant. Then he fell to his knees and kissed the Queen's hand.

A hush fell over the heath. The Queen's words pinged sharp and clear, like the pearls that suddenly broke from her necklace and fell upon the floor of the stand. No one stooped to recover them, for the Queen was speaking.

"And what," she asked, as she fixed one of her own purple plumes in Sham's headstall, "what is the pedigree of this proud sire of three winning horses?"

Agba leaned forward in his saddle.

There was a pause while the Earl found the right words. "Your Majesty," he spoke slowly, thoughtfully, "his pedigree has been...has been lost. But perhaps it was so intended. His pedigree is written in his sons."

How the country people cheered! An unknown stallion wearing the royal purple! It was a fairy tale come true.

The princesses clapped their hands, too. Even the King seemed pleased. He puffed out his chest and nodded to the Queen that the answer was good.

Agba swallowed. He felt a tear begin to trickle down his cheek. Quickly, before anyone noticed, he raised his hand to brush it away. His hand stopped. Why, he was growing a beard! He was a man! Suddenly his mind flew back to Morocco. My name is Agba. Ba means father. I will be a father to you, Sham, and when I am grown I will ride you before the multitudes. And they will bow before you, and you will be King of the Wind. I promise it.

He had kept his word!

For the first time in his life, he was glad he could not talk. Words would have spoiled everything. They were shells that cracked and blew away in the wind. He and Sham were alike. That was why they understood each other so deeply.

The Godolphin Arabian stood very still, his regal head lifted. An east wind was rising. He stretched out his nostrils to gather in the scent. It was laden with the fragrance of wind-flowers. Of what was he thinking? Was he re-running the race of Lath? Was he rejoicing in the royal purple? Was he drawing a wood cart in the streets of Paris? Or just winging across the grassy downs in...

Russians be like: "bfddrhnnkhsaxbjk speak English!"

Three friends are in a hotel room in Soviet Russia.

The first two men open a bottle of vodka, while the third is tired and goes straight to bed. He is unable to sleep however, as his increasingly drunk friends tell political jokes loudly.

After a while, the tired man gets frustrated and walks downstairs for a smoke. He stops in the lounge and asks the receptionist to bring tea to their room in five minutes.

The man walks back into the room, joins the table, leans towards a power outlet and speaks into it:

"Comrade major, we want some tea to room 62 please."

His friends laugh at the joke, until there is a knock on the door. The receptionist brings a teapot. His friends fall silent and pale, horrified of what they just witnessed. The party is dead, and the man goes to sleep.

After a good night's rest, the man wakes up, and notices his friends are gone. Surprised, he walks downstairs and asks the receptionist where they went.

The nervous receptionist whispers that KGB came and took them before dawn.

The man is horrified. He wonders why he was spared.

The receptionist responds:

"Well, comrade major did quite like your tea joke."

So, as a school shooter, I try to remember my ABC's. A, B, C, D, E, F, GUN!

And I basically stop at G, since no students ever speak to me about the rest.

What do people that can only use half their face and wankers have in common?

They have both had a few strokes.

My family chastises me for MY job, but you should hear how my family provides "customer service" at their jobs. My mother works as a social worker and answers the phone like, "DYFS, you beat em, we treat em." My grandmother is a Medical Examiner and she answers the phone like, "City Morgue, you kill em, we chill em." These bitches have no class! I'm an actress and studio secretary. When you call the studio, I answer the phone professionally like, "Good afternoon. IHOP, International House Of Pussy. Creampie Cassie speaking."

Public speaking is a more popular fear than snakes, and you don't see anyone walking in Australia and shout, "Look out! A podium!"

Why don't molestation victims speak up about their trauma? Because it's a touchy topic.

A french fry was talking to a potato, but the potato didn't understand what he was saying.

It was because he didn't speak French.

My 1 year old nephew had a stroke. I know, sounds bad... but he would have needed to learn how to speak and walk anyways.

What did the computer say to the other computer? “Well, tech-ically we can’t talk.”

What are the subtitles when a disabled person speaks in a movie?

nsjajahdahwggwdgdvtwqfdvgcqgvhheydgdygsydgdfydwfwdgsqgsgyd

Two muffins are sitting in a bar.

The first muffin says to the bartender, "I'll have the usual."

The second one does not say anything to the bartender because muffins lack the vocal ability of humans, and even with the proper anatomy capable of speech access, they would most certainly be entirely unable to comprehend the human language. In fact, the first muffin would indefinitely not be able to provide speech to the bartender. The muffins also lack the muscular structure to be capable of support themselves to being suspended also preventing their access to movement. Even with the human-like structure, muffins lack brains, which are an essential part of being able to send nerve contact within the legs to be able to move. Also, with them lacking a brain structure entirely prevents them from speech. The anatomy simply prohibits the food items mentioned to be able to carry out any of the tasks required to get them to said bar and be able to speak, thus making the situation untruthful and completely idiotic.