My uncle John must be the most boring man on the planet. He was a farm labourer, is about 6'3", built like the proverbial brick outhouse and I've not heard him speak since 1974. Not that he's dead or anything, it's just whenever we visit, his total vocal output is 'y'right then?' followed by grunts and shrugs to any question put to him.

In 1974, my brother was killed by a drunken driver and my uncle John uttered the longest sentence I've ever heard. It was a comment on the parentage and possible sexual proclivities of the said drunken driver and I couldn't possibly repeat it here!

LTS