Latest news with #DullMensClub
The Guardian
a day ago
- Entertainment
- The Guardian
Meet the members of the Dull Men's Club: ‘Some of them would bore the ears off you'
The 18th-century English writer Samuel Johnson once wrote, 'He is not only dull himself; he is the cause of dullness in others'. It's a sentiment eagerly embraced by The Dull Men's Club. Several million members in a number of connected Facebook groups strive to cause dullness in others on a daily basis. In this club, they wear their dullness with pride. The duller the better. This is where the nerds of the world unite. 'Posts that contain bitmoji-avatar-things are far too exciting, and will probably get deleted,' warn the rules of the Dull Men's Club (Australian branch). Maintaining standards of dullness is paramount. Alan Goodwin in the UK recently worried that seeing a lesser spotted woodpecker in his garden might be 'a bit too exciting' for the group. In the same week, a flight tracker struggled to keep his excitement to an acceptable level when military jets suddenly appeared on his screen. This is the place for quirky hobbies, obscure interests, the examination of small, ordinary things. It is a place to celebrate the mundane, the quotidian. It is a gentle antidote to pouting influencers and the often toxic internet; a bastion of civility; a polite clarion call to reclaim the ordinary. Above all, it is whimsical, deeply ironic self-effacing and sarcastic humour. There is an art to being both dull and droll. 'It's tongue-in-cheek humour' says founder Grover Click (a pseudonym chosen for its dullness), 'a safe place to comment on daily things.' Exclamation marks, he says, 'are far too exciting.' (On his site, ridicule is against the rules, as is politics, religion, and swearing). There is, says Bt Humble, a moderator for the Australian branch, 'a level of one upmanship. It's sort of competitive dullness.' Dull people trying to out-dull each other. Are there people who are just too exciting for the club? 'There isn't actually a mandatory level of dullness,' he admits, although some of the members he has met 'would bore the ears off you.' It all started in New York in the early 1980s. Click, now 85, and his friends were sitting at the long bar of the New York Athletic club reading magazine articles about boxing, fencing, judo and wrestling. 'One of my mates said 'Dude, we don't do any of those things.'' They had to face it. They were dull. They decided to embrace their dullness. As a joke, they started The Dull Men's Club, which involved some very silly dull activities. They chartered a tour bus but didn't go anywhere. 'We toured the bus. We walked around the outside of the bus a few times. And the driver explained the tyre pressures and turned on the windscreen wipers.' In 1996, when Click moved to the UK, his nephew offered to build a website for 'that silly Dull Men's Club.' Sign up for the fun stuff with our rundown of must-reads, pop culture and tips for the weekend, every Saturday morning Today, Click's copyrighted Dull Men's Club Facebook group has 1.9 million members. There is an annual calendar featuring people with peculiar hobbies, a book – Dull Men of Great Britain – merchandise and not one but two awards: Anorak of the Year in the UK and DMC Person of the Year for the rest of the world. There are also numerous copycat Dull Men's Clubs, including one that has 1.7 million members. Click is 'very surprised' that so many people identify as dull. The Australian club has 8,000 members. Comparatively small but definitely holding its own in the dullness department. Much of the minutiae of life gets on members' nerves, as does poor workmanship. Five hundred amused comments followed a post about coat hangers inserted into hoops on rails in hotel rooms. 'That would keep me up all night,' said one person. The over or under toilet paper debate raged (politely) for two and a half weeks. Then there was the dismantling of electronic appliances. Or photographing post boxes, the ranking of every animated movie from one to 100 – 100 being 'dull and pointless'. Members judge the speed of other people's windscreen wipers against their own, or in the case of Australia's Simon Molina, stuff as many used toilet rolls as possible inside another. 'It's extremely dull.' There was the late John Richards who founded the Apostrophe Protection Society and 94-year-old Lee Maxwell who has fully restored 1,400 antique washing machines – that no one will ever use. Australian member Andrew McKean, 85, had dullness thrust upon him. He is, dare I say it, an interesting anomaly in the Dull Men's Club, a shift in tone. Three years ago, he had a heart attack. He recovered but the hospital's social workers deemed him unable to care for his wife, Patricia, and they moved to a nursing home in NSW. There is nothing droll or amusing about being stuck in a nursing home. But he has elevated the dull institutional days into something poetic and poignant by writing about them and posting 'to you strangers' in The Dull Men's Club. Sign up to Five Great Reads Each week our editors select five of the most interesting, entertaining and thoughtful reads published by Guardian Australia and our international colleagues. Sign up to receive it in your inbox every Saturday morning after newsletter promotion His life before moving into a home had been anything but dull. An electronics engineer, in 1967 he was connected to the Apollo moon mission. Then a career in the television broadcasting industry took him to the UK, Malta, West Africa and Canada. Once a traveler who lived in a sprawling house at Pittwater who spent his days in the sea, now his life is reduced to a single room, 'every trace of my existence is contained within these walls.' Sitting in his worn, frayed armchair by the window 'watching the light shift across the garden,' he writes about ageing and 'the slow unfolding of a life.' He is surrounded by the 'faint hum of machines and the shuffle of slippers … the squeak of a wheelchair, the smell of disinfectant.' With the club, McKean has found his people, his tribe, within this ironic, self-deprecating community. At 85 he has found fans. Even if they are proudly dull. He lives for the bus and a few hours of freedom in a life that has shrunk. On the bus 'something stirs in us, a flicker of youth perhaps.' He treats himself to KFC, 'the sharp tang of it a small rebellion against the home's bland meals.' He sits on a park bench, an old man with a stick, invisible and inconspicuous to the people rushing past 'watching the world's parade, its wealth and hurry.' He observes it all and reports back to the Dull Men's Club. 'Though the world may not stop for me, I will not stop for it. I am here, still breathing, still remembering. And that in itself, is something.' While he usually posts daily, other dull people get concerned if he doesn't post for a while. They miss him, his wisdom and his beautiful writing. In his introduction to the 2024 Dull Men's Club calendar Click wrote, 'What they [the dull men] are doing is referred to in Japan as ikigai. It gives a sense of purpose, a motivating force. A reason to jump out of bed in the morning.' Here is a radical thought. Dull men (and women) are actually interesting. Just don't tell them that.
BBC News
16-05-2025
- General
- BBC News
How did an Ayrshire bin end up in a German village?
A North Ayrshire Council bin has swapped Saltcoats for sauerkraut - after being unexpectedly found in a German wheelie bin was spotted in the village of Viernau by an intrigued local, who took to social media to ask if anyone had any idea how it had arrived Ayrshire Council told BBC Scotland News it was uncertain how the container had managed to wind up abroad, but the continental jaunt could be linked to its manufacturer, the German company SSI in the Dull Men's Club Facebook group suggested it had perhaps fallen foul of safety regulations in the UK, and then been reused in Germany instead. Christian Kühne posted the image, and wrote: "A wheelie bin from the North Ayrshire Council appears in front of my company. In the middle of Germany."I'm confused and curious what might be the story behind it. Is someone in the North Ayrshire Region missing his wheelie bin?"Commentors also pointed out it was a combination of a brown bin - meaning it should be used for garden waste - with a blue bin lid, which should be for paper and recycling. A spokesperson for North Ayrshire Council confirmed to BBC Scotland News that Viernau - in the state of Thuringia in the eastern part of Germany - had not been added to the local authority's usual bin collection said: "This German street is definitely not part of our regular collection route so we're very curious as to how it ended up here."We can say that this bin was manufactured more than 20 years ago by a German company, SSI Schaffer, so it may have been a spare from the manufacturer which found its way into local use."As bins are the property of residents, it's also possible that it could have been taken to Germany by a former resident moving to the area and may have been used to store items in the move."The spokesperson said the council would be interested to find out how it arrived. Social media suggestions ranged from realistic possibilities about it being reused by the manufacturers to pondering whether an unfortunate person in Ayrshire was currently wondering where their bin had gone.
Scottish Sun
11-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Scottish Sun
People left stunned after learning Scottish town's real name
One person joked: 'The hardest working apostrophe in Scotland.' Click to share on X/Twitter (Opens in new window) Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window) FOLK have been left stunned after realising the real name of a Scottish town. Most travellers wouldn't bat an eyelid when they see signs for Bo'ness, just outside the Falkirk area. Sign up for Scottish Sun newsletter Sign up 2 People couldn't believe that Bo'ness wasn't the real name. Credit: Alan MacGregor Ewing 2 It was a fun fact for a lot of folk. Credit: Alan MacGregor Ewing But it turns out that it's actually called something completely different and has been abbreviated. The proper name is Borrowstounness - unlikely to fit on road signs hence the shortened title. It became a fun talking point on the Dull Mens Club Facebook page where members were sussing out the place names with the most apostrophes. One person joked: "The hardest working apostrophe in Scotland is the one on Bo'ness." People were surprised by the revelation and admitted they had no idea this was the case. A shellshocked poster wrote: "I always thought it was just Bo'ness. " It didn't occur to me that it stood for something else." Another said: "I did not know this. Epic!" Someone quipped: "That's the official name but don't think anybody has called it that in years." "I know a few people from there and I've never in my life heard anybody say the full name before." Watch this MP say the longest place name in Parliament And Bo'ness wasn't the only Scottish place that was mentioned as an example for punctuation that does some heavy lifting . People posted signs for Stenhousemuir which is shortened to St'nh's'm'r on some signs. A local joked: "It's how we locals pronounce it unless just calling it Stenny, plus it saved a lot of paint." Another added: "Stenny resident here. "Proud of that sign. "Although two of the apostrophes replace single letters and therefore don't save any space."
