Reading an article titled ‘boring’ is all very well, but in the end, it’s still nothing more than aggravation. It’s frustrating already for a few. So spare a thought, please, for the immaculate boring. Delve into the tumultuous for the sake of ‘Boring’. It’s bloody boring but that’s the intention. Life is boring; unless of course you’re a superstar, on the big screen. Television is boring; it’s got nothing but melodrama. People are boring; they are self-obsessed. The dog is boring; it doesn’t seem to play at all. That girl in the next building with a nice bosom is bloody boring; all she wants is some absurdly rotund plutocrat to make her the queen of Lanka. The food at the restaurant behind the office is nauseatingly boring, especially if you eat the same god damn thing everyday. The work station is boring; it’s an old school desktop with no speakers; where will I listen to The Doors, Marley, Hendrix and Peppers? The roads are boring; they don’t seem to have adequate women strolling on them. The trees are boring; they just sit around all day enjoying the breeze and soaking up the sun. The sea is boring; it doesn’t do a damn thing, just polluted with all facets of pricks without a cause or choice. Clients are boring; all they want is some yellow and red with every damn thing written in bold with impotent fonts. The train is foolishly boring; every hoodwink wants to get off and on forgetting, it stops at every station for ten seconds, to make situations better they are all irritated, perspiring and pricks. Let’s not spare the first class either. The hoardings are damn boring; nothing eye-popping or inducing, just plain old boring. Why make such hoardings anyway? Don’t they take away the charm of a perfectly in-order locale? It’s the pricks. The absurdly fat pricks, they get all the affluence in life. All they want is more and more. It’s the sphere of never ending gluttony. They can buy anything. Anything! Even the glumly, with bosoms. It’s quite bloated, yet factual. Even such a thought is ridiculously boring. Now being a connoisseur to the sulkily boring. It’s an irony for all who crave to be in such sinister jails. Why does life follow such dark yet on-the-top-bright-looking sphere? Makes materialistic far more important then the most important. The government is boring; they do care, off course they do, but for themselves. The days are boring; for yet it’s only a sole train, an outcome of girls at the bar, who are boring; they only want the pricks. On a brighter note; theirs music. Aha! Music indeed; a best friend. Solely responsible for the non convoluted peace. It does make escape convenient. So come on let’s break on to the other side.