Bore for Britain

The Bore

This man could bore for Britain,
Lull the Universe to sleep,
Yet I have to sit and listen
To this bleary, dreary creep.

Others’ eyes are filled with wonder
As they hang on every word,
Whilst I look at them and ponder,
“Do we live in the same World?”

Is there cogent information
In his un-dynamic speech?
Is there hidden fascination
That is just beyond my reach?

Are the others just pretending?
Or are they just as bored as me?
Since his tome seems never-ending,
Are they longing to break free?

Oh how can I escape from
This interminable drone,
Disappear and end the boredom
Of his dreadful monotone.

Shall I organise a Great Escape
And dig beneath the floor,
Or sprint towards the finishing tape
That’s just outside the door?

While I’m sitting, vacillating
As his blathering gets worse
I find my getaway creating
My escape route in this verse!