A feghoot is the kind of joke that we all love and hate! For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, it’s a joke, typically in the form of a short story or vignette, that usually concludes with an atrocious pun. It’s the kind of humour that can make you groan, and then smile to yourself like an idiot. So without further ado, here are 5 of the most infuriating feghoots to get your blood boiling:

A feghoot by Isaac Asimov, arguably one of the most famous feghoots of all time

Monty Stein, in the year 3047, committed quite a heist and made off with quite a tidy sum. He was eventually caught, and the judge sentenced him to seven years imprisonment. However, the night before his impending incarceration, he calmly set his time machine for seven years and one day, and stepped through.

Make thousands RISK FREE
Make thousands RISK FREE

When he emerged in 3054, there was quite an uproar. Prosecution maintained that Monty Stein never actually served the sentence, since effectively no time passed for him. Defense stated that the effect was basically the same, since he lost seven years of living in society, or something to that effect. Both sides called each other names (as lawyers are wont to do).

Eventually, Stein was set free. Some say that the judge succumbed to peer pressure; others said that he simply couldn’t resist the temptation. For his decision, in full, was:

A niche in time saves Stein.

 

Now, it’s time for another classic. Brace yourselves!

Once upon a time, there were three kingdoms, all bordering on the same lake

Once upon a time, there were three kingdoms, all bordering on the same lake. For centuries, these kingdoms had fought over an island in the middle of that lake. One day, they decided to have it out, once and for all.

The first kingdom was quite rich, and sent an army of 25 knights, each with three squires. The night before the battle, the knights jousted and cavorted as their squires polished armor, cooked food, and sharpened weapons. The second kingdom was not so wealthy, and sent only 10 knights, each with 2 squires. The night before the battle, the knights cavorted and sharpened their weapons as the squires polished armor and prepared dinner. The third kingdom was very poor, and only sent one elderly knight with his sole squire. The night before the battle, the knight sharpened his weapon, while the squire, using a looped rope, slung a pot high over the fire to cook while he prepared the knight’s armor.

The next day, the battle began. All the knights of the first two kingdoms had cavorted a bit too much (one should never cavort while sharpening weapons and jousting) and could not fight. The squire of the third kingdom could not rouse the elderly knight in time for combat. So, in the absence of the knights, the squires fought.

The battle raged well into the late hours, but when the dust finally settled, a solitary figure limped from the carnage. The lone squire from the third kingdom dragged himself away, beaten, bloodied, but victorious.

And it just goes to prove, the squire of the high pot and noose is equal to the sum of the squires of the other two sides.

 

Feel warmed up? Get ready for a real biggie this time!

The story of Mike Doe

Hey, my name’s Mike Doe, and this is my story. I had a friend in college, my freshman roommate, who was always talking about his family. His name was Robert Gooding, and he must’ve had a family tree that started from Adam and Eve. Every single day he would drone on and on about some cousin or uncle or some such. He would always burst into the room saying things like, “Hey Mike! You’ll never guess Uncle Nate and Aunt Ridley are doing in Taiwan for the orphans this week!” I remember him talking about how Dimitri, his mother’s grandfather’s nephew’s son, which is apparently what second cousin once removed means, had resolved a tense hostage situation in Iran. And how cool Auntie Pauline (actually a distant cousin) was for working on top secret stuff with the CIA. I always tried to be patient with him and at least pretended to listen and nod at his stories. They never seemed to be about the same people. Sometimes he’d mention something that was actually funny or interesting too so it wasn’t always bad.

Good old rambling Robert. He picked up that nickname within a couple weeks of starting school–I don’t think he liked it much. He didn’t make many friends because he could never stop talking about his own family. Sometimes I think that I was the only one he could talk to who wouldn’t start running after five minutes. I’m not going to lie though. Back then I endeavored to be out of the room most of the day to avoid his ramblings. However no matter how late I came back, he was always up and ready to tell me something new about his family’s latest adventures.

There was this one time that was different though. On a day close to the end of our first semester together, he suddenly stopped his rambling and stared at me with a really serious expression. The abrupt lack of background noise startled me from the article I was reading while humoring him, and when I saw his face I thought he must have been angry with me for ignoring him. “You know Michael,” he started as I prepared my apology, “I really appreciate that you listen to my stories every day. I know it must be boring and annoying for you, but you listen anyway and I appreciate that. So I want to promise you something. Us Goodings, we don’t forget stuff like this. We take care of our friends. Just you wait, one day me and the whole family will find a way to thank you.” I shuddered at the thought of having to attend a graduation party with his entire family and hear about all their adventures first hand, but at that moment I realized that Robert was actually a pretty good guy.

Our year together came to an end, and the next year I was assigned a different roommate. Rambling Robert still sent me emails to keep me up to date with all his family happenings for a while, but even those stopped when he decided to transfer out to some college in Washington. I completed my degree in criminal psychology and went on to work as a detective for the DEA for a while. I had a great time there busting drug dealers and cleaning up the streets of my hometown, and my mom was so proud to have a real Officer Doe in the family. I was about 45 years old when they promoted me and had me relocated near the Mexican border to work on the drug traffic coming from the cartels. It was there that I finally met one of Robert’s infamous family members, Randall Gooding. He was my new supervisor, and when I showed up on the first day he greeted me like an old friend. He told me that he recognized my name and background from the stories Robert had told him, and he personally requested that I be sent down. I was surprised that Robert even talked about me, we had only known each other for a year, but it was nice to reminisce about the Goodings again. Randall was just as talkative as Robert was, and we hit it off almost immediately. It felt like I was in college again. His nickname around the office was Rambling Randy, which had me chuckling for at least a day. Robert, it turns out, was doing just fine. He was a doctor now somewhere in Texas, and I was happy that my old friend was able to make such a good life for himself.

Work was good for a few years until the cartel activity started to pick up dramatically. Nobody was sure why but we were suddenly inundated with arrests and busts and all kinds of paper work. Even Randy wasn’t as talkative around this time. It was all supposed to come to a head today. Today we were going to do a massive takedown on a processing plant operating just inside the border. Our undercover agent had uncovered it while posing for a different case so Randy and I took the lead while the rest of the office continued monitoring the other operation. We enlisted the FBI and local SWAT teams for help and I thought everything was going to go smoothly until I got kidnapped right out of the parking lot on my way out of the office last night.

From the time they ripped the rucksack bag off of my head till the first rays of daylight, they questioned me. They were careful. All of them had clown masks on, the hard plastic kind that never quite fit the face right. All of them were wearing gloves and carrying weapons–some had guns, some had various wicked modifications of baseball bats and crowbars. The night was rough. They wanted to know how we found out about them, who we were working with, when the operation was going to go down, and a whole host of other questions. I was patient and waited. I gave them no information and suffered a few broken ribs and some teeth for it. While they were questioning me, I took in my surroundings. I knew from the floor plans I had studied for the bust that I was in the processing plant, specifically in one of the raised offices at the end of the building. I could see the entire plant from the large window on the wall in front of me. I guessed that they did not know about our plans yet, so I contented myself to sit tight and wait for the bust to happen at 10AM.

However, it was around 6AM when I heard the sirens blaring in the distance. Maybe they stepped up the schedule when they found out I was kidnapped, I thought. My captors were awake in an instant and took up the preplanned positions we had predicted. One of the guys carrying what looked like an M16 came cursing into the office where I was being held. After cracking me in the face with the butt of the gun, I felt more than heard him raise the muzzle level with the back of my head. Soon I heard an unfamiliar voice yell over a megaphone giving the normal spiel about being surrounded and to give up. Of course they refused to give up and began to use me as a bargaining chip. Randy’s voice came over the megaphone just before the first officer continued the negotiation, “Mikey! Just wait Mikey! Hang tight and don’t do anything stupid.”

The standoff lasted for hours. If it weren’t for the gun pressed on the nape of my neck, I would have probably passed out from boredom. Eventually things got real quiet. My guard started getting antsy and walked out–probably to check for new orders with his superiors. As soon as he left the room, a hundred glass windows shattered breaking the silence and raining shards of glass down on the main factory floor. White smoke obscured the first floor as tear gas flooded the facility. Shouting and gunfire followed as my captors opened fire. Amid the confusion and smoke I couldn’t tell who was winning. I did hear Randy’s voice at one point yelling orders like, “Dimitri, take the stairs and give Pauline some cover.” None of the officers who were supposed to be with us today were named Dimitri or Pauline. The din began to wither after only a few minutes and unseen officers began yelling, “Clear!” As the smoke dissipated, I expected to see the body armor and face masks of the SWAT teams who were supposed to be part of today’s operation. Instead I saw lots of men and a few women I had never seen before in various uniforms. Some were in army uniforms others were in suits, and there were even a few in civilian clothes. God, did they call the Army and CIA in on this? When Randy saw me, he came running up with one of the suited men who was carrying a bag.

“Mike! Thank God you’re still alive. I’m sorry we made you wait so long, but we had to wait for all the flights to make it before we could move.”

“What? What flights? Randy, what are you talking about?”

“We found out you were kidnapped at about midnight. The team that we were going to use wasn’t trained for hostage situations so I had to improvise. I made some calls around and got as many as I could to come down here. Good thing Nate here happened to have hostage experience. Nobody asked any questions after I brought your name up, we all know you thanks to Robert here.” He motioned at the suited man who was leaning in to assess me.

I frowned at the man and suddenly realized that his bag contained medical supplies. “Robert?” I choked the question out in disbelief. He just gave me a small smile while he continued his work. “You mean to tell me that all of these guys… They’re all your family?”

Robert looked up from where he was examining my jaw with a wry smile, “I told you we don’t forget Mike. All the Goodings come to Doe’s who wait.”

 

Here comes another big one, with a classic, albeit maddeningly exasperating ending:

The story of a man’s afterlife 

A man wakes up in a dingy slum, with no memory of how he got there. He wanders around aimlessly before he finds even one person who will talk to him. Some ratty beggar on the street turns out to be nice enough to explain where he is.

“You’re in the afterlife!” he tells the man, “But you must have been a real shithead when you were alive, because this is the fourth ring, and only the worst people come here.”

All of a sudden, a siren goes off, one of those air-raid things. The man is terrified but the beggar gets up calmly and leads him to a big, dilapidated warehouse where thousands of other similarly unkempt souls are gathering. When the man asks why they’re all here, the beggar points to a line of folding tables against the wall. Each table has some moldy bread, cups of dingy water, and some bowls of broth so thin they could have just run out of cups. Only then does the man realize how hungry he is. A guard in heavy body armor blows a whistle and all the people arrange themselves into three lines.

The beggar is helpful enough to explain them for the man. “That one’s the bread line, that’s the broth line, and that’s the water line. All the food here is free, but if you want to get out of this maggot hole, you’ve got to work, because the gate guards into the third ring ask five hundred dollars to get through. I’ve heard the food is better there.”

So the man gets his food. It’s abominable, and right then and there, he vows to make five hundred dollars and get into the third ring. Unfortunately for him, very few people need work in the afterlife, especially when all of them are saving up to emigrate. Even still, after ten years of hard work, eating the moldy bread and indistinguishable soup and water, he finally saves up enough money. The guards let him through and he finds himself in the third ring. It’s nothing too fancy, if anything, it’s a bit below average for a real city, but to his eyes it is paradise. All the guards look much friendlier, and the houses and buildings, while not spacious or lavish, are at least up to code. And to his surprise, he runs right into a familiar former beggar as he crosses the street.

“What are the odds?” they both ask and they get to conversing. The beggar, it turns out, only managed to make it in himself a few months back. Their conversation is interrupted, however, by what sounds like a school bell. When the man seems confused, the beggar leads him to what looks like a giant gymnasium. Here, people are gathering once again, and the man begins to understand. On a line of folding tables against one wall are stacks of hot dogs, big bowls of salad, and solo cups full of fresh lemonade. A cop shouts for everyone’s attention and directs them all to stand in three lines. The beggar smiles at the man’s wonder and points to each line in turn. “That’s the hot dog line, that’s the salad line, and that’s the lemonade line.” The man gets in each line in turn and gets himself his lunch.

While he’s eating, basking in joy at not being stuck with old bread and water, the beggar encourages him, “The best part is, halfway through the year, they switch from hot dogs, salad, and lemonade to chicken, chili, and hot chocolate. You can never get tired of it!”

Sadly, this proved not to be true. After only a few days, the man did again get tired of the same meal every day. But he knew firsthand that he could change his lot, so one day he went up to the wall of the second circle. This time the guards were asking for ten thousand dollars. Well, the man didn’t like it, but he figured he had his whole afterlife ahead of him now that he was out of the fourth circle, and he could certainly take some time to save up. After ten years of hard work, it wasn’t too difficult for him to keep up the work ethic, and only twenty years later, he went back to the guards of the second ring with the money in hand. He went through the gate and found himself in a glittering, clean city full of glass and steel.

 

And wouldn’t you know it, but there, standing across the street was the same beggar, only now he was wearing a well-fitted suit. The man greeted the beggar as an old friend and they started talking again. Once again, their conversation was interrupted, only this time it was by beautiful church bells. “Come,” the beggar told him, “I’ll take you to the evening meal.” So the man followed and they entered a glamorous ballroom filled with beautiful attendees. Even the cops here looked good, dressed in suits and sunglasses like bodyguards. And sure enough, piled onto platters on huge mahogany tables against the far wall were plates of steak, bowls of the most delicious seafood soups, and glasses of champagne. One of the bodyguards cleared his throat loudly and politely requested that the attendees line up. Three lines were formed and the beggar pointed each line out in turn. “That’s the steak line, that’s the soup line, and that’s the champagne line,” and then he added, “and apparently here, they change the meals FOUR times a year!”

 

The man rejoiced, ate, and was happy, and for once felt that nothing was lacking. Four changes a year was enough for him. But one day, out of curiosity, he went up to the bodyguards that guarded the gate into the first and final ring of the afterlife and found they were asking for a million dollars to pass. Well the man was a bit disturbed by this, after all, the second ring seemed perfect to him. “What is it,” he thought, “that could possibly be more wonderful than what I have here?” That question haunted him for weeks until he came to a conclusion. He was used to working hard and he had all of eternity to save up, so he wanted, just once to see what he could possibly be missing in the first ring.

Fifty years later, he returned to the guards with a million dollars. When he stepped into the first ring he fell to his knees. The architecture was glorious and inhuman, and the bodyguard had turned into shining angels. To his surprise, someone helped him up off the street and when he looked, he realized he recognized who it was–it was the beggar he met in the fourth ring, adorned in a golden robe and glowing, and when he looked down at himself he realized he looked much the same.

The beggar laughed jovially. “I got here only three years ago myself, but somehow I knew you would be right here behind me. I’ve come back to this gate every day waiting for you to make it in!” Suddenly, the air was filled with the sound of angelic choirs and the beggar led the man off to a gigantic palace made of crystal and cloud. The room was filled with radiant citizens of the first circle and angels prepared everything. Sure enough, there was a line of massive altars against one wall, spilling over with glistening golden dragon meat, a pudding refined from clouds and dew and silk, and an ice cold tub of ambrosia and nectar ladled out individually into blindingly beautiful crystalline chalices. An angel fluttered from the ceiling and bowed silently to the assembled mass, who bowed respectfully back and then broke themselves into their lines on their own.

Smiling at the tradition, the beggar pointed to the first line. “That’s the line for the dragon meat,” he said before turning to the next line, “and that’s the line for angeldust stew,” then he paused, confused.

“What is it?” the man asked his old friend.

The beggar replied, “There appears to be no punchline.

Now, the final one! It needs to be some real hair-splitting, teeth-grinding, ball-your-fist kind of outrageous crap, right? Don’t worry, that’s exactly what we’ve got in store for you. Enjoy!

 

An American biker decides to travel the world

Once upon a time there lived an American biker named Rick. Now, Rick loved to ride his motorcycle, but was tired of driving up and down the same roads, day after day.

One morning, he woke up, and decided to travel the world. So he saved up some money, got on a plane, along with his trusty Harley, and set out to explore the globe.

For the next few weeks, Rick spent his days riding to and through some of the most popular European cities like Paris, London, and Rome.

After seeing all Europe had to offer, he moved on to explore the rest of the world. Over the next few months, he rode through the African savannas, the deserts of Egypt, and even made it to the top of Mount Everest.

He was having the time of his life until he reached a small town in China. Unexpectedly, and out of nowhere, a beautiful Chinese maiden crossed his path, causing him to fly off and crash his motorcycle. Apologizing, the maiden offered Rick to pay for the repairs and a place to stay while they fixed his bike. “My name is Yu! It’s an honor to meet you!” the beautiful maiden introduced herself to Rick.

It turned out she was the daughter of a rich magistrate, so he spent the night in a small palace in the center of town. However, due to the scarcity of motorcycle parts, Rick had to spend several days in the palace, in the presence of Yu. Over the next few days, she took a liking to him and his strange American ways. As expected, Rick took a liking to her, too.

The two quickly became inseparable, but Yu’s father did not approve, for Rick was an outsider. By the time the motorcycle was finally up and running, Rick had fallen madly in love with Yu and refused to leave. Yu begged her father to let him stay, but instead, the Magistrate had Rick banished from the town. He warned him if he ever came back, he would have him beheaded.

Rick was devastated, he had no motivation to continue on the rest of his journey. It seemed as though there was nothing left for him in the world, if he didn’t have his beloved Chinese maiden.

So he did the only thing any other sane guy would do….

Rick rolled back into town screaming,

I’m never gonna give Yu up!

 

So there you go! Of course, we apologize to all of you reading this, and also to everyone you might share these feghoots with. But that’s not going to stop us from sharing any more groan-worthy feghoots. And it shouldn’t stop you either – you can start by sharing this article with your friends!

Disclaimer – We are not responsible for any decline in the number of friends you might have, as a result of sharing this!

Leave a Reply