I tend not to do anything that others would find interesting. Many of the acquaintances of my age like to do things like travel, go dancing, see films, eat out, and so on. I, on the other hand, forego such excitement and enjoy being at home by myself, with just occasional interactions with other people. You could call me a dull person.

So I was interested in this article that spoke of a Dull Men’s Club that has apparently several million members online.

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).
…

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.)
…

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.”
…

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.

I probably won’t join this group. It may be too intense for me.

Reading the article, though, reminded me of this sketch from Monty Python’s Flying Circus.