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Dreaded meeting with The Bores.

Byline: By Bob Cuffe

Last week we visited the world of airports. For people watchers, there can be no finer place. Apart from a sauna of course.

At Newcastle Airport, I observed the most appalling of folk. The Bores. The Married Bores - having twice the Bore Power, are much worse than the Single Bore.

The Bores. You could tell they were Bores by their matching clothing, and that brown was the dominant colour. They looked Boring. Like people look Catholic - simply watch for clear signs of dignity, inward serenity, intelligence and rampant guilt.

The Bores opened with the seemingly harmless, "Where are you from?" This is a skilful tactic - an absolutely respectable question, the type that you or I would ask a stranger at an airport. The Victims seemed unaware of their fate, and so answered in a relaxed manner, "Consett."

And then, the killer question. The one that should have sent alarm bells ringing in The Victims' minds. "Which route did you take?" A classic Bores Question. Who the hell cares which route this couple took?

Bores care. The Victim gave a response - being a normal person, I can't remember what it was. It was clearly, however, the most fascinating piece of information The Male Bore had received in a considerable period of time. "You shouldn't have taken that route. If I was you I'd have avoided the A1 altogether."

The Bore talked for what seemed like hours. His Marital Bore seemed captivated by his ramblings. The Victims - too late - realised the danger they were in. They started shuffling, uneasily, in their seats. The Bores had them cornered - they blocked all exits. These were professionals.

The next question was absolutely inevitable. "What car do you drive?" The Victims shivered. They knew there was another monologue on its way. They weren't disappointed. I won't bring you down by recalling any details, but safe to say, The Bore thought they'd made a surprising choice of automobile, and that, in his considerable experience, he had made a much wiser choice.

By now, The Victims were getting desperate. But were struck by the most awful disease of all. Politeness. I felt like telling The Bores to bugger off myself - but, sad to say, was enjoying it all a little too much.

The Female Bore asked: "Have you been to the new Marks & Spencer Lifestore yet?"

Again the monosyllabic answer simply played into their hands. The Male Bore rested awhile, whilst his Female Partner In Monotony, ably took the reins. She, in remarkable detail, took the three of us through the Lifestore. Distilling the 17 minutes down, she believes there's room for improvement - but a lot to commend the store as well.

The Bores completely, and utterly, lacked humour, as Champion Bores so often do. They were immensely earnest, and would suit having umbrellas inserted in them, and then fully opened. Time didn't allow them to cover all of their favourite subjects, but I'll warrant gardening, personal finance and immigration policy would have all featured heavily. The Victims, by this stage, had stopped blinking. And then the final coup de grace.

"Where are you going on holiday?" Please be the same resort, I hoped. Bingo. Two weeks in the same resort. You could see The Victims deflate, at exactly the same time. However, it got even better. "Which hotel are you staying in?" Panic was now in the air. The Bores leaned forward. They seemed to know. They stared into the souls of The Victims. They saw the answer before The Victims said it. They were staying in the same hotel.

The Bores had, of course, stayed at the same hotel on many occasions. The hotel wasn't as good as it had been. But The Bores keep going back. I think it's the fear of not knowing as much as anyone else. Sadly, I had to leave. As I stood up, The Victims looked at me. Our eyes met. Theirs were screaming, "HELP US!" The Bores just kept talking. They wanted to know what seats The Victims were sitting in. It turned out that they'd chosen badly.

Any types worse than A Bore and what other Signs Of a Bore are there?
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Publication:The Journal (Newcastle, England)
Date:Apr 23, 2004
Words:698
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