Tell me your best joke!

an èideadh fèileadh ged a tha mo dhia :P

Ha ha

Did you hear Arthur Cormack is experimenting with a ‘Drive-Thru’ Gaelic language and culture festival? After some public concern, his mother commented ‘I’m sure it’s just a Feis he’s going through.’

An cuala tu gun robh One Direction a’ toiseachadh roofing-company anns na Hearadh? ‘S e ‘Harris-Tiles’ a tha gu bhith air.

hehe

inhales deeply
Once upon a time, in a nondescript medieval town, lives a florist, by the name of Frank. Every day, he journeys out to a beautiful field of flowers hidden miles within a deep and foreboding forest. However, the flowers he finds there are magnificent, and well worth the hike. He makes a decent living, and narrowly supports his wife and seven children.
Also in the town was a small monastery of friars. Now, these friars had recently been receiving far fewer donations than was typical, and it was having quite an impact, for these friars were quite the greedy little fellows. One day, wallowing in his apparent lack of money, one friar happened to catch sight of Frank, selling his flowers to a very corpulent old woman. The friar thought to himself for a minute, then, in the blink of an eye, he dashed through the monastery to reach its gardens. They were full of flowers, and his eyes were full of money. Soon, after dragging the rest of the friars outside and explaining his plan, the monastery was hastily converted into a cheap flower factory.
A few days later, upon returning home from his trip to the hidden flower field, Frank saw no one at the door waiting to but his flowers. Confused, he walked down to the local pub and asked why no one wanted his flowers.
"They're too expensive!" One drunk man said, waving his arms about. "The Monastery sells 'em for way less."
Frank left the pub, flabbergasted. How could he ever sell his flowers for less money? He was barely living day-to-day. Without his sales, his children would starve!
Knowing exactly what to do, he ran home and, digging under his decrepit bed(if you could call it that), he pulled out a small box. He blew the dust off in one big puff and opened the box. Inside was the equivalent of about $400. He coughed up dust, and snapped the box shut.
Heading out again, box in hand, he returned to the pub. "Excuse me, which of you is the strongest man?"
No one heard him over the shouts of a pub fight. A body flew over his head and slammed into the wall to the left of the door; he winced and ducked.
through the dust, Frank could make out one burly man standing on a table, heaving one man over his shoulder, and punching another man in the ribs with his other arm. Frank knew that was the man he needed.
Approaching him timidly, Frank nudged him with the box of money. "Sir…? What might your name be?"
"Hugh."
"Alright, Hugh, I'll be Frank with you here, but I need your help. You see, these friars— they ruined my business and I need you to stop them because I am an absolute wimp. And I'll pay you this." Frank handed Hugh the box of money. Hugh popped off the lid and rustled through it.
"Sure."
Later that day, Hugh left the pub and made his way to the monastery. After knocking several times, a friar finally opened the door.
"Stop selling flowers."
"what? Why should we?"
Hugh punched that friar in the face.
The next day, however, the friars had not stopped selling flowers. Again, Hugh approached the monastery and knocked once more.
"What do you want?"
"Stop selling flowers."
"No."
Hugh also punched that friar in the face. He lay, hands crumpled over his nose, which was bleeding slightly.
"Let me repeat myself. Stop selling flowers, or I'll punch all of you in the face until you stop."
Hugh slammed the door on the broken-nosed friar and returned to the pub.
The next day, the crowds began to return to Frank's flower shop, and all was well, except for a couple of broken noses.

The moral of the story is:
only Hugh can stop florist friars.

and also, pardon the profanity, but here's a shorter one:
Puck, from a Midsummer Night's Dream, actually originally planned to turn Nick Bottom into a full donkey.
He, however, was very lazy and half-assed it.

I LOVE IT

And great writing, I was getting into it XD

I sold my car…

For gas money…

Or–

What do you call a pile of cats?

A meowntain.

hehehe thanks @Masterkey

Ha! That was good. I was getting into it too.

Shuriken.

No.

Too sad.

(I laughed and woke up my sister)

Yeah, most of mine are inside jokes!

Your jokes were as bad as mine!

by which you mean brilliant and punderful! @MidnightWarrior13

by which you mean brilliant and punderful! @MidnightWarrior13

Actually, I was talking to Shuriken. Your joke was good. I liked it.

Again, they're inside jokes!

Then why’d you share um?

Well, they're still jokes that make sense to outsiders

I didn't share any of them, those were normal although terrible ones.

They were terrible XD

Although imagine having to try to describe an inside joke to someone via an online forum. That would be a challenge.

Oh okay, the confusion has been cleared. I repeat, the confusion has been cleared.

You're right, it would be difficult

Those were meant to be terrible though!

Ok. That makes a little more sense.

A.knock knock
B.who's there?
A.control freak
B.cont- A.this is when you say control who

who is there

Oliver

oliver who

Don't hurt Oliver feelings.