/Achmed the Dead Terrorist Has a Son – Jeff Dunham – Controlled Chaos | JEFF DUNHAM

Achmed the Dead Terrorist Has a Son – Jeff Dunham – Controlled Chaos | JEFF DUNHAM

Video: Achmed the Dead Terrorist Has a Son – Jeff Dunham – Controlled Chaos | JEFF DUNHAM


Jeff: Look, what I want you to do is, I just want you to look over there while I'm getting him out. So you won't peek, okay? Just look over there. Achmed: Oh, wait a minute. When I'm not looking, are you going to kill me? No. That's actually a good way of doing it, you know. Kind of old-school, but effective. It's like, "Hey look at that—" [sound of choking] Jeff: Now, just look over there and don't look back until I say so. Achmed: Okay, whatever. This is kind of like Christmas, huh? Jeff: Yeah, just look over there, [Achmed: Okay.] don't peek.

Achmed: Okay. Achmed: Okay, not gonna peek but you're still weird. Now? Jeff: No! Achmed: Okay! [Clapping and cheering] Achmed: Ahh!! Achmed Jr: Ahhh!… Achmed: Who the hell is that? Achmed Jr: Hello father. [Laughing and cheering] Jeff: It's your son, Achmed Jr. Achmed: AJ? AJ: That's right. Achmed: Wait, I thought you were dead. AJ: Surprise. Jeff: This is great. Achmed: Hey, what happened to your face? Oh yeah, my bad. [Laughing] Jeff: Achmed, he's your son look at him. What do you see? Achmed: Well…he does have my eye. [laughing from Achmed] AJ: Actually, I do yes, I do. Achmed: Why do you sound like Elton John? Jeff: When you were separated after the accident, he was raised in England. AJ: Did my mum miss me? Achmed: (mumbling) Uhh, yeah… I don't know, what the hell…

Jeff: How do you not know? Achmed: Oops. [Laughter] AJ: What's wrong with your leg? Achmed: Nothing. (to Jeff) What's wrong with my leg? Jeff: I don't know.. [laughs] Achmed: Can you fix this? Jeff: No, I don't think so.. [laughing] Achmed: Damnit.. AJ: Don't look at me. Jeff: Alright. Jeff: Here, we get Marnell to help us. Achmed: What? Jeff: Marnell he worked- Achmed: I know Mar-Mar- (yelling) Marnell! Come fix my leg. [Clapping and cheering] AJ: He's kind of cute. Achmed: (awkwardly) Okay, moving on! Jeff: Wait a minute, how do you not know who his mother is? Achmed: [scoffs] I had 46 wives you idiot. They all dress the same and their faces were covered. Jeff: How'd you tell them apart? Achmed: The numbers on their backs. Jeff: That's terrible. Achmed: I know, mother's day is a bitch.

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.. [Laughter] …and so are most of the mothers. AJ: That's not funny at all! Achmed: Atall? Who is Atall? Was she your mother? I don't remember a woman who is all bulgy-eyed like you. Jeff: Bulgy-eyed? Achmed: Well look at him! AJ: Well, you're not exactly squinting. Achmed: Well at least my face is balanced. You manage to look asleep and terrified all at the same time. Jeff: Achmed, he's your son! Achmed: Well the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, and apparently this one got run over by a fucking lawnmower. [Laughter and clapping] AJ: You caused the accident. Achmed: Accident? It was a huge explosion with great fire and destruction. AJ: You didn't mean for it to happen. Achmed: I did too! AJ: You did not! Achmed: N– (yelling angrily) Oh shit, Marnell! Son of a bitch! AJ: Are you talking to me now? Achmed: (to Marnell) Fix it right, or I kick your ass! Marnell, come back! My arm is stuck in my pelvis, you asshole.

AJ: He can fix my pelvis anytime. (The man who wrote the subtitles before me had the same idea as me) (y'all nasty) Achmed: (angrily) Shut up! Jeff: Okay, look– okay, look. So the explosion you were talking about; how did it happen? Achmed: Very precise and careful planning. AJ: Not exactly. Achmed: I said shut up! Jeff: What happened? Achmed: Nothing! AJ: He was putting gasoline in his scooter. Jeff: So why was there an explosion? Achmed: (quietly) Shit happens… AJ: He was using a cell phone. Jeff: Really? Achmed: What? Jeff: While putting gas in your scooter? You know that's dangerous. Achmed: Well, it was your mother who called. AJ: Really? Achmed: I don't know. Jeff: What was her name? Achmed: 42. Jeff: And you guys haven't had any contact since? Achmed: Not much, he's a bad son.

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AJ: I am not. Achmed: Tell him what you sent me for my birthday. AJ: It was an honest mistake. Jeff: What'd you send him? Achmed: He sent me a bottle of skin lotion. AJ: He made it worse! Jeff: What'd you do? Achmed: I sent him back half a bottle! [laughs] Jeff: You know, maybe you should try and patch things up. Achmed: Looks like he needs more than a fucking patch. AJ: But I'm here for a reason. Achmed: What? a skin graft? Sorry, I'm all out! Fuck. (screams) Marnell! (yelling) Come fix my fucking leg! (angrily) Get duct tape, you asshole! Jeff: (laughing) He actually brought duct tape. [Loud cheering and laughing] AJ: He's kinky too.. Achmed: Shut up! Jeff: So Achmed, do you know why AJ's here? Achmed: Well… wait a minute! This isn't some crap about owing child support, is it? That bitch! Whichever one she was.. Jeff: No, that's not it– Achmed: (interrupting) This is bad because I've seen the crap that you're going through and I don't know how you can afford even a t-shirt. Jeff: Thank you. Achmed: (quietly) Did I say that just how you wrote it? Jeff: Yes, thank you.

Achmed: Okay. Good luck with the judge. I hope he's fair. Jeff: Actually, the– the judge is a woman. AJ: You're fucked. Achmed: Okay, listen you! Jeff: Achmed– [Achmed: What?] you're getting hostile. Achmed: Of course I'm getting hostile. I'm a terrorist you idiot, you piss me off I kill you! AJ: Would that really solve anything? Achmed: Pretty much yeah, I think it does. Jeff: Okay… Achmed: I have nothing in common with my own son. Jeff: Just talk to him. Achmed: How? Jeff: I don't know.. like you would anybody. Achmed: Okay, WTF!! OMG… I mean, OMA. [Laughter and clapping] Jeff: And you have no idea why he's here? Achmed: To start his training as a terrorist. AJ: No, father. That's just it..

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. I don't want to be a terrorist. Achmed: [gasps] But I want you to be just like me. AJ: Well, I'm not and I won't be. Jeff: Achmed, Can you accept that? Achmed: I guess I can try. Jeff: And AJ, what if he doesn't accept it? AJ: I kill you. Achmed: (happily) That's my boy! [Applause and cheering].