I Wouldn't Bore That Man If I Were You Dept

Aggie Karl inadvertently reminded me this morning of Alexander Woolcott's notoriously uncharitable, but undeniably witty, way of dealing with bores. I know of at least three separate zingers just off the top of my head:

Zinger the First

Woolcott is walking briskly along a New York sidewalk when he espies, approaching him from the other direction, a notorious bore. The bore spots Woolcott in his turn, and as they approach each other, the bore cries out happily, "Alexander, my friend, what's going on?"

Woolcott doesn't even break stride. "I am."

Zinger the Second

Woolcott has sat for several minutes through a monologue by a notorious bore at his club. Suddenly he breaks into the ceaseless soliloquy:

"Excuse me, my foot seems to have gone to sleep. Do you mind if I join it?"

Zinger the Third

An gentleman who is lunching with Woolcott and several of their mutual acquaintances embarks upon an amusing anecdote. Unfortunately he gets tangled up along the way, loses track of where he is in the story, distracts himself with a pointless digression and then can't find his way back, and at last, in desperation, says lamely, "Well, to make a long story short..."

Woolcott's verdict is instant, terse, and emphatic: "Too late!"