are cunts.
We’ve all encountered them. Those individuals whose perpetual droning could send you to sleep. Those whose company you run away from as though they had a dose of the bubonic plague.
A couple of former workmates spring immediately to mind. One was a triathlon bore. He’d stun you into submission at the drop of a hat, going on about his personal timings, the cost of his gear, his gym training schedule or his strict diet. Another was a ‘real ale’ bore, and a twat with it; ‘you still drinking THAT piss? You should try Hopsworth and Trumpington’s “Olde Pisshead”, ABV 8.2. That’s a real man’s drink’ etc.
My own current pet bore is a guy who lives a few doors down. Now Ken’s a lovely bloke, but he could bore professionally. His pet obsession is golf, and he’s got the true bore’s capacity to turn any conversation to this topic in ten seconds flat eg;
Me; ‘Morning Ken, lousy day’
Ken; ‘Should’ve been golfing this morning, but some of the holes are waterlogged’
Me; ‘A waterlogged hole’s not a pleasant thing Ken’
Me; ‘Evening Ken, off out?’
Ken; ‘It’s the golf club agm and dance tonight…’.
Me; *straightening up*; ‘Alright Ken? This weeding’s doing my back in’
Ken; ‘I’m the same Ron, but the guys at the club say that they don’t know how I do it at my age. The 11th’s a par five, but on Saturday I was on the green a foot from the flag in two…’.
In fairness, I suppose we can all be a bit of a bore in our way. My specialist subject is the Villa**; ‘conceded another early goal against the tractor boys on Sunday, defence is fucking shite, should have sorted it in the summer blah’.
So how about you guys? Is there someone who makes you run and hide if you see them coming? Are you willing to concede that you can bore for England on some topic or other?
**My specialist subject would probably be tits, ass and fanny, but I’ve never met another bloke who gets remotely bored by this.
Nominated by Ron Knee.
Seconded by Norman.
Seconded. Ron.
What I hate is boring cunts who can’t – or won’t – talk about anything.
When somebody asks what are you watching? They reply, ‘A film’.
What are you reading? ‘Book’.
Where are you going? ‘Out’.
Who are you going out with? ‘A bird’.
Dull as ditchwater cunts who can’t string two words together.