Vile Jokes

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Funniest Vile Jokes

Funny Vile Jokes

Worst pub I've ever been to was called The Fiddle. It really was a vile inn.

Worst pub I ever went to was called The Fiddle. It was a vile inn.

I hate when people say “I’m not racist! I have black friends!” It’s truly one of the most vile things a white person can say. If i had black friends I wouldn’t be telling ANYBODY.

They called it the Fiddle Motel..... ....but it was a vile inn.

What do you call a test tube filled with mold? A vile vial

The worst pub I've ever been to was called The Fiddle. It was a real vile inn

I walked into the library the other day I walked into the library the other day and asked the librarian if he still had that mouldy old book on giving your child up for adoption.

"It was vile so I got rid of it."

"That's the one."

I just took a dump so vile That the US is invading my house and accusing me of using chemical weapons

What do you call a German cowboy with awful dress sense? Hans of the vile vile vest

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Long Vile Jokes

A young blonde fears that her boyfriend is seeing another girl...

One day, the girl is visiting her boyfriend's apartment for lunch and stumbles across another woman's discarded garments on his bedroom floor. After sitting coolly through the meal, avoiding eye contact, she quietly excuses herself without explanation. She is incredibly hurt, and on her way home finds herself in a local gun shop, purchasing a handgun. The next day she awakens with renewed vengeance for her lover's betrayal. She dresses and immediately heads straight to his apartment, gun tucked in the back of her pants as a failsafe in case things get ugly. Not bothering to knock, she bursts into her boyfriend's apartment to find him and a brunette cuddled up on the couch. As the reality sinks in, the blonde is overcome with complete despair and rage. She whips the gun out and holds it to her own head. The boyfriend leaps off the couch and starts begging and pleading with her not to shoot herself. The blonde, a vile look in her crazed eyes, entirely devoid of that love she once knew, snarls, "Shut up. You're next."

An Arab wandering through the Sahara

finds an old bronze lamp. When he uncorks it, out comes a genie dressed in black, with side curls a yarmulke.

"Oy, someone has *finally* freed me from that prison! I will grant you *1 wish*."

"You covetous Jew, you will give me *3* wishes!"

"It is 1 or I give you nothing, you vile Arab!"

So the Arab thinks and says,

"I know what I *really* want, more than anything. And it is to be wanted—nay!—*needed* by beautiful young women all the world over!"

And *poof!* the Jewish genie turns him into a tampon. The lesson here is that when you do business with a Jewish genie, there is going to be a string attached.

Doctor geezer and doctor young

Once apon a time there were two doctors: doctor geezer, and doctor young.

Doctor geezer was very old - and doctor young, very young.

One day doctor geezer says that he can cure anything in the world for one hundred dollars. And if he can't, he'll give you one thousand.

So doctor young decides to set out to fool the old man, because surely it can't be that hard.

So the next morning doctor young says to doctor geezer: "doctor! My taste buds don't work!"

"Not a problem!" Says doctor geezer. "Assistant? Can you get me 'vile 13?'"

So when the nurse comes back doctor geezer says "drink this, and you'll be fine."

So doctor young takes one sip and says - "egh! That's tar!"

"CONGRATULATIONS!" Says doctor geezer to doctor young, "one hundred dollars please"

So the very next day, doctor young decides on a new plan to trick him.

"Doctor!" He says, "I've lost my memory!"

"Not a problem" says doctor geezer. "Assistant, can you get me vile 13?"

"No that's tar!" Shouts doctor young.

"CONGRATULATIONS" says doctor geezer to doctor young, "one hundred dollars please"

So on the final day, doctor young decides to give it one more try.

"Doctor!" He says. "I can't see! I'm blind!"

"Oh..." Said doctor geezer. "Oh no... I'm afraid there's nothing I can do. Well, here's your thousand dollars." Doctor geezer sighed, and handed him a twenty dollar bill.

"Hey - what?" Said doctor young. "This is only twenty dollars!"

"CONGRATULATIONS" said doctor geezer to doctor young. "That will be another hundred dollars."

The Medicrin Story - taken from a Boy Scouting website

Long ago, before Gamecubes, before Playstations, even before Atari, there were nasty, vile monsters roaming the land. In those days, a few brave, strong men made their living by protecting common people from these beasts. This is a story about one such man named Erik and the adventure he had. 

There was a small village on the edge of a wide prairie, next to a very thick forest that led up into the cold, dark mountains. In these mountains lived the dreaded Medicrin. The Medicrin would stalk down from the mountains in the dead of night, sneak into the village, and snatch a sleeping villager. He would take the poor soul away and eat him for breakfast. This happened every week so you can imagine the villagers became quite tired of it. 

The terrified villagers called a meeting, and decided to hire the greatest hero around - Erik the Brave! 

Erik rode into town on his trusty steed, entered the city hall, and listened to the story the villagers told of the monster that attacked at night each week. When they were finished, Erik told them he would have a plan in the morning and he went to his hotel room. 

In his room, he consulted his Great Hero's Book of Vile Monsters, and found the chapter about the Medicrin. He learned that Medicrins stink like rotten eggs. He learned they have 6 fingers with long claws. He learned they never brush their teeth. He learned they have very good noses. And he learned they love to eat human flesh, but even more, they love to eat Loons. 

So, early the next morning, actually very, very early the next morning, Erik hunted high and low, near and far, to find a loon. He finally found one just before breakfast, captured it, tied it up, and brought it back to the village. He then told the villagers his plan. 
He had them dig a pit that was 20 feet deep (because the Medicrin was 9 feet tall) and 10 feet around. While they were digging, Erik tied a big rock to the leg of the loon, so it could not fly away. 
When the pit was finished, just about a half hour before sunset, Erik tossed in the rock, and of course the loon went in too. Then, he told the villagers to go to their homes while he waited for the Medicrin. 
Erik jumped in the bushes and waited with his great broadsword with which to slay the Medicrin. 

That night, the Medicrin snuck into the village . . . 
It smelled the loon . . . 
It came closer to the pit . . . 
But then it smelled DANGER, and it ran off. On the way out of the village, it grabbed one of the villagers for a snack. 

Needless to say, the villagers were not happy. Some demanded their money back, others wanted to throw Erik into the pit. After calming the villagers, the next day, Erik again consulted his Great Hero's Book of Vile Monsters, and learned more about the Medicrin. He learned it wore the same underwear for 3 weeks in a row. He learned it could not sing at all, but enjoyed listening to opera music. But, most importantly, he learned that Medicrins love sugar more than anything else in the world, even turnip-spinach surprise! 

So, Erik used some of the money the villagers had given him and rode his trusty steed to the next village, bought all the sugar he could carry and returned - this took two days because villages were far apart in those days. The next day, he rode to a different village and bought their sugar. The next day, he went to yet another village. It had now been a week and the Medicrin was due to come again this night. 
Erik gathered all this sugar and threw it into the pit. The loon, that was still stuck down in the pit, had not eaten in a week now and was extremely hungry. As fast as Erik could throw the sugar in the pit, the loon ate it up. It ate ALL the sugar! 

Erik was struck with panic, and ran to and fro trying to figure out what to do next, but night had fallen, and the Medicrin would be there soon, so Erik crossed his fingers, and hoped for the best. 

That night, the Medicrin came . . . 
It smelled the loon . . . 
It came closer to the pit . . . 
It smelled sugar . . . 
It came closer to the pit . . . 
It smelled DANGER and turned to run away. 
But, that smell of sugar was just too overpowering. 
It couldn't resist. 
The Medicrin ran up and dove down into the pit. 
And, it was trapped! 
Brave Erik leaped from behind the bush, raised his sword, and jumped down onto the Medicrin, driving his sword into its neck, and slew it. 

Which just goes to show: A loon full of sugar helps the Medicrin go down.

Hans and Jervaise....

A man walks into a restaurant and orders squid. "Certainly sir," says Jervaise, the waiter. "Would you like to choose your squid from the tank over there?" "I'll have that little green one with the moustache," says the customer. "Oh no!" replies Jervaise. "But he's my favourite! He's so small and cute and friendly. Surely you'd prefer one of the bigger, meatier ones?"
"No," says the customer. "It's got to be that one". So Jervaise gets the little green squid out and puts him on the chopping block, raises his knife and ... the little squid looks up and smiles, twitching his bushy moustache into a big friendly grin!
"It's no good' says Jervaise. "I can't do it. I'll have to ask Hans who does the washing up. He's a big, tough brute - he'll be able to do the evil deed?' So out comes Hans, while Jervaise disappears off in tears. Hans picks up the knife, raises it to chop the little squid's head off and ... once again the little friendly squid looks up and smiles, wiggling his little legs and twitching his little moustache. So Hans, too, finds it impossible to kill him.
The moral?
Now Hans that does dishes can be as soft as Jervaise with vile green hairy-lip squid.

The Rabbi and the Trids (Long)

A long time ago there was a land called Tridsdale whose people were called Trids and they were ruled by a mighty but generous Rabbi. All the Trids of the land would collect their food from across the river by crossing a bridge. One day, the Rabbi was wondering through his lands and the people looked tired, sad, and hungry.

"What is the matter?" said the Rabbi, "Why have you no food?"

The Trids responded "Rabbi, there is a fierce ogre under the bridge and whenever we try to cross it, he kicks us back."

Concerned, the Rabbi marches down to the bridge and there is nothing. He crosses the bridge, gathers up food for his people and returns.

"I saw no ogre, you all shall go get food tomorrow and I ensure you, everything will be okay."

Well the next day came and the people came back with no food and large footprints across their back sides. So the Rabbi grew angry. He marched down to the bridge and crossed it again with no issues, bringing food back to his people. He ensured them there was no ogre and that they should go get food the next day.

On the third day when the people came back, foodless and sore from the vile kicking, the Rabbi had enough. He went to the bridge and yelled "OGRE! COME OUT AND FACE ME!" The ogre emerged from under the bridge, as fierce as everyone had said he was. "Ogre, why do you kick my people when they come for food, but you do not kick me?" The ogre starts laughing.

"Silly Rabbi, kicks are for Trids!"

In the days of old the River Thames was once plagued with a giant wyrm.

The dread creature preyed upon any who used or went near the river, and many lives were lost, and eventually the call went out for a brave knight to slay the vile creature. It soon became apparent that this was no task for a common knight, but only the holiest and most dedicated - a living saint.

Fortunately, one was found in the person of Saint Honorius, a man with the noblest of deeds to his credit and the humblest mien ever to be found in a man at arms. And in response to the entreaties of the poor and oppressed of the Thames folk, Saint Honorius took up his sword and his armour and set out to duel the monster.

Following the cunning stratagem adopted in the affair of the Lambton Worm, Saint Honorius had many sharp spikes welded to his armour, so that if the Thames wyrm tried to crush him in its dread coils, it would lacerate itself to death. Then, bearing a silver-inlaid horn of the wild Russian ox, the saint went forth to challenge the beast to mortal combat.

Of the tale of this battle no tongue can adequately sing. Suffice it to say that the mighty knight, puissant at arms and borne up by the holiness of his faith, triumphed over the monster, and the beast was slain, and its carcass lay in the river for many days, befouling the water and threatening to raise a stench to affront Heaven itself once it began to rot. No carters could bear it away nor teams of draught horses or kine haul it, and none knew what could be done. Save one man:

For by great good fortune, a man from far Hanover, a sausage-butcher by trade, happened upon the scene, and being of a curious turn of mind, he hewed off a chunk of the creature's flesh and fed it into his meat-mincer, stuffing the ground meat into a skin after the fashion of his profession; and the resulting viands proved to be delectable, with excellent keeping qualities, and was much sought after; and thereby the inconvenient and potentially noisome carcass was disposed of and the sausage-maker's fortune assured at one and the same time.

Saint Honorius cared naught for such dealings, beyond a quiet contentment that matters were so satisfactorily resolved (and it is recorded that he too was delighted at the gift of sausage that was brought to his humble cot). But when the time came to commemorate the adventure, a scribe of renown was commissioned, and began to write upon this wise:

*It was the beast of Thames, it was the wurst of Thames...*

A man burst into the Elder's tent, saying that his son had spotted a werewolf and it wished to speak to him.

The Elder had the boy lead them all to where he saw it and when they all get there, all they see is a regular wolf, standing patiently at the line of stones that marked the border of the village.

The Elder approached it carefully, eyeing the wolf. "You." He spoke, "Wished to speak to me?"

The wolf nodded, "I have business I wish to conduct in your village, but I needed your permission, first."

The Elder, assuming this meant some vile assault on his people, scowled at the wolf, "I would never let you harm a person in this village!"

The wolf tilted its head and stepped back, "Harm? I would never harm one of your village members."

The Elder paused, cocking his head back in confusion. Then he pointed to the boy, "He says you are a werewolf, he would not lie!"

The wolf simply stepped back and pulled out a small rucksack, overflowing with little knickknacks, from behind a bush and presented it to the Elder, "He is not lying. I am indeed a ware wolf."

One I found this one here a while ago:

In a far a way land, there was a monastery where an angellic sounding choir would perform on a yearly basis.

One day, a young man was recruited by this choir. His beautuful tenor voice made all who herd it stop in amazement.

One thing you should know about this land is that music has magical properties. A well performed song can do magical things. As such, the study of music and what it can magically do is wide spread.

Well, this monastery was well known for both the beauty of the music its members performed, but also for its strive to learn all music could do magically speaking.

As such, this young man, with the beautiful tenor voice, was trained from day one of his joining the monastery. Each day his skill in singing grew.

And each day his knowledge of magic grew as well....

The first time the choir performed after he joined, this young man, his name was Sam by the way, had an imporant part to play.

You see Sam had a solo, in fact a single note he had to sing.

When it was time for him to sing, he stepped forward. As Sam sung his single note, everyone stopped to listen to this beautiful note this young man sung. And smiled a little, admiring the grace of this sound.

This happened year after year. Sam would sing, and something magical would happen. Up until the 6th time he had sung his now famous notes.

To top it all of, each note that was sung by Sam became more beautiful than the last. Each year people would gather to listen to this boy sing. His 6th year (and 6th magical note) were no different.

His 6th preformance was so beautiful in every way, people where crying for joy months after the preformance. It semed as if Heaven itself would be commonplace and to plane in comparison.

Than came the 7th year. When it came time for Sam to sing, he stepped forward, sung his note.

This note, was unusually. It was so vile in sound, pitch and tone that every one flinched. Women wept, babes screamed, children cried in fear. It was so crude Sam suddenly burst into flames, and died.

Confused as to what happened, a member of the choir askes a friend: "What happened?"

A little confused herself, the friend turned and said "Sam sung Note 7...."

An Englishman, a Scotsman and an Irishman are the only survivors of a plane crash in the desert

Though the ordeal has bonded them like brothers they're all now dying of thirst. It looks like it's all over until they find a magic lamp!

"I'll give each of you two wishes," says the genie.

The Englishman knows exactly what he wants. "I wish for a pint of ice cold lager and to be back home in Aylesbury where I belong!"

"Done!" Bellows the genie, and the last thing the Scot and the Paddy see is the Englishman taking a big swig of Kronenbourg as he disappears.

"Alright, who's next?"

"Me!" Shouts the Scot. "I want a bottle of Irn Bru and to be back home with me wife and bairn in Dundee."

The genie waves his hand and the Scot fades from existence greedily quaffing his vile orange piss.

"And yourself?" Asks the genie of the Irishman. Paddy thinks for a moment.

"How about a big bottle of whiskey?" The bottle appears before him almost instantaneously.

"And your second wish?"

"Ah Jaysis? It's no good without company. I want me two best friends back to enjoy it with me!"

Man Gets Biggest Shock Ever After Eating A Hot Chilli. This Is Insane ?

I went grocery shopping recently while not being altogether sure that said course of action was a wise one. You see, the previous evening I had prepared and consumed a massive quantity of my patented 'Killer Chili'. Tasty stuff, albeit hot to the point of being painful, which comes with a written guarantee from me that if you eat the next day both of your butt cheeks WILL fall off.

Here's the thing. I had awakened that morning, and even after two cups of coffee (and all of you know what I mean) nothing happened. No 'Watson's Movement 2'. Despite habanera peppers swimming their way through my intestinal tract, I appeared to be unable to create the usual morning symphony referred to by my next door neighbors as thunder and lightning.

Knowing that a time of reckoning had to come, yet not sure of when, I bravely set off for the market; a local Wal-Mart grocery store that I often haunt in search of tasty tidbits.

Upon entering the store at first all seemed normal. I selected a cart and began pushing it about dropping items in for purchase. It wasn't until I was at the opposite end of the store from the restrooms that the pain hit me. Oh, don't look at me like you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm referring to that 'Uh oh, gotta go' pain that always seems to hit us at the wrong time. The thing is, this pain was different.

The habaneras in the chili from the night before were staging a revolt. In a mad rush for freedom they bullied their way through the small intestines, forcing their way into the large intestines, and before I could take one step in the direction of the restrooms which would bring sweet relief, it happened. The peppers fired a warning shot.

There I stood, alone in the spice and baking aisle, suddenly enveloped in a noxious cloud the likes of which has never before been recorded. I was afraid to move for fear that more of this vile odor might escape me. Slowly, oh so slowly, the pressure seemed to leave the lower part of my body, and I began to move up the aisle and out of it, just as an elderly woman turned into it.

I don't know what made me do it, but I stopped to see what her reaction would be to the malodorous effluvium that refused to dissipate, as she walked into it unsuspecting. Have you ever been torn in two different directions emotionally? Here's what I mean, and I'm sure some of you at least will be able to relate.

I could've warned that poor woman but didn't. I simply watched as she walked into an invisible, and apparently indestructible, wall of odor so terrible that all she could do before gathering her senses and running, was to stand there blinking and waving her arms about her head as though trying to ward off angry bees. This, of course, made me feel terrible, but then made me laugh. Big Mistake.

Here's the thing. When you laugh, it's hard to keep things 'clamped down', if you know what I mean. With each new guffaw an explosive issue burst forth from my nether region. Some were so loud and echoing that I was later told a few folks in other aisles had ducked, fearing that someone was robbing the store and firing off a shotgun.

Suddenly things were no longer funny. IT was coming, and I raced off through the store towards the restrooms, laying down a cloud the whole way, praying that I'd make it before the grand mal assplosion took place.

Luck was on my side. Just in the nick of time I got to the john, began the inevitable 'Oh my God', floating above the toilet seat because my butt is burning SO BAD, purging. One poor fellow walked in while I was in the middle of what is the true meaning of 'Shock and Awe'. He made a gagging sound, and disgustedly said, ' Oh my Lord', then quickly left.

Once finished I left the restroom, reacquired my partially filled cart intending to carry on with my shopping when a store employee approached me and said, 'Sir, you might want to step outside for a few minutes. It appears some prankster set off a stink bomb in the store. The manager is going to run the vent fans on high for a minute or two which ought to take care of the problem.'

That of course set me off again, causing residual gases to escape me. The employee took one sniff, jumped back pulling his shirt up to cover his nose and, pointing at me in an accusing manner shouted, 'IT'S YOU!', then ran off returning moments later with the manager. I was unceremoniously escorted from the premises and asked none too kindly not to return.

Home again without having shopped, I realized that there was nothing to eat but leftover chili, so I consumed two more bowls. The next day I went to shop at Food Town. I can't say anymore about that because we are in court over the whole matter. They claim they're going to have to repaint the store.

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