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Surerandomality Issue 2
Welcome to issue 2 of surerandomality. After the rip-roaring success of the first issue, the second issue arrives bigger and better. Watch out for the new “news” section, and for the reader’s letters. It’s been a hectic week, with another 70 hour week at work, and the tight deadlines required to get this to the printers in time. Added to this all the time spent practising how to drink, it’s meant that sleep has once again been optional, to the extent that I went to work Sunday morning straight from Essential, there’s something wrong with only making it to bed 5 times in a week. Anyway, without further ado, here it is.
John Paul II died and went to heaven. St Peter met him at the gate and said: "John Paul, you did such a wonderful job for us on earth, we'd like to do something special for you.You name it it's yours." John Paul thought for a moment and said: "I'd like a private audience with the Holy Mother." St Peter told him it would be arranged. On the appointed day, St Peter escorted John Paul to the Holy Mother's sanctuary.John Paul went before Her, knelt, and said "Holy Mother, I've always looked to You for guidance, and You have granted me peace and serenity through some difficult times.But I have one question that has nagged me during my whole time on earth. In all the paintings that were done of you, and in all the sculptures that were carved of you, you always looked so sad.Why is that?" Mary thought for a moment, pursing her lips. Then she said: "I always wanted a girl.
A man and wife were celebrating their 50-year anniversary, so the man bought his wife a $250 see-through nightgown. Later that night she was getting ready for bed and realized the nightgown was still in the box downstairs. Walking naked through the house, she passed her husband who said, "My word, for $250 they could've at least ironed it!"
Some say George W. Bush quit drinking because of this incident... Back in his party days, Dubya got behind the wheel after a few too many. He started the car and stepped on the gas. He was driving for a while, when suddenly a white ghost face appeared in the window. George saw it and began screaming. He stepped on the gas harder, but the face floated right in the window. George floored it - the speedometer read 110mph but the face did not disappear. A white hand gestured for him to roll down the window. Not knowing what else to do, he rolled it down slowly. The wrinkled old face smiled and said, "Do you want help getting out of the mud?"
A couple of stories that have caught my eye this week
Some athletes protest bad calls by throwing things. It's a bit different in Madagascar, though. When Ratsimandresy RaCzarazaka, coach of the Stade Olympique l'Emyrne soccer team, lost an argument with a referee in SOE's scoreless game with AS Adema on Thursday in Toamasina, Madagascar, his players angrily protested ... by kicking the ball into their own goal after each kickoff. As Adema's players reportedly stood around in amusement, SOE scored one own goal after another -- 149 in all. Radio Madagascar reported the 149-0 score represented a world record for a first-class soccer match. - If only this would catch on over here, and Arsenal would do this next weekend I would be a happy man.
Just the one this week.
Hard to Kill – Steven Seagal’s second celluloid outing, brings his greatest acting performance to date as the coma cop, who recovers to root out the evil in the system. In his Oscar winning performance Seagal shows the full depth of his unlimited acting talent, along with some great support from his then wife Kelly Le Brock. The script is superb, showing great pace and wit, allowing the all out action scenes to be interspersed with some touching sentimentality. Brilliantly edited, it will leave you wondering just what is going to happen next? All in all a top quality film, definitely worth a watch. 5/5
Before the above mentioned football match, what was the record score in a first class football match? This week’s prize is an all expenses paid trip for two to watch Leigh RMI take on Forest Green Rovers on March 29th 2003.
First of all last weeks answer and winner. The answer was that the snatch review was false, as it really is a Tip Top film. The first correct answer drawn out was from Ian Bottomly-Smythe from Daventry, Northamptonshire, who was unable to do the trolley dash as he woke up with strange nail size holes in each of his hands.
“Percion”, “Percion – time to get up, you have to be in the king’s courtyard in 2 etumins”
I hear the nagging voice of Mraydebeeste, the official waker, seeping into my shell, and I know I need to extend myself out of the shell, bit by bit I extend myself to my full length and start to slide gracefully across the cold, wet, stone ground.
I am Percion Montmarl the fourteenth, assistant to Quing Wateguy of the Snails (who I believe that it will go down in history as Wateguy the slimeless one – due to the fact that he’s a dried up old cretin, how it’s managed to survive to the age of 13 I don’t know).
At 14 toof long I am one of the largest snails ever to live in the kingdom, and this along with my unusual intellect has propelled me to being the Quing’s assistant. The role takes on the characteristics of bodyguard (though the number of mad suicide salt bearing snails is minimal, and besides I’m not getting in the way in the unlikely event one does turn up), as well as personal adviser for our majesty (I.E. It’s stupid and needs someone to think for it). It’s probably the most boring job in the Quingdom, as there is a limit to the amount of times you can tell someone that the answer to whether they should have grass or lettuce, is lettuce because it’s allergic to grass. It’s had lettuce every day for 3 years now that I know to, and it’s anyone’s guess, for how many years before that, snails have tried to get it to have some other vegetation, fruit and even some delicate snail eggs, but it point blank refuses to have anything except lettuce, though it does insist that it ought to have some grass, but then can’t decide whether to or not, and therefore asks me.
The only thing that makes the job worthwhile is the Quing's eldest child, Treisesla, Although as a snail we are all hermaphrodites there is something about Treisesla, it’s glorious spiral shell is perfectly formed, and shines in a way that reflects all the colours in the spectrum, at just the right brightness for all our delicate eyes, and in such a way that makes my heart rise, and brings me joy whenever I see it.
Now between you and me there would be nothing better than Treisesla being the one that I could exchange sperm with, lying there for hours covered in our shared frothy slime, before going off and laying our respective eggs, but this is the real world, and there is no way I’d be allowed to swap sperm with any of the Quing’s offspring, let alone the eldest, because despite being the Quing’s personal assistant and bodyguard I am still by birth a common snail, but I have a plan to get round that. I just need the time and opportunity.
More of that later, I’ve just got time for some succulent tree bark for breakfast and then it’s off to see how the king wishes to bore me today. The bark is great having just been stripped off a local fir tree cluster, though our colony has just about managed to strip the entire fir colony of its bark, with only a few of the several thousand left for stripping. Our gatherers will have to venture further a field to get more, I’ll have to give the order today to send gathering parties out to survey the outlying areas, and I’ll have to get the rest of this bark stashed away in my private store, as there’s no telling how long those gatherer halfwits might take, the last time any of them went to find a supply of water they were gone for 4 thonms. It turns out they found water after 2 yads but then lost their bearings and it took the rest of the time for them to find their way back to our Quingdom, by which time they’d forgotten where the water was in the first place.
to be continued…
Snails are hermaphrodites, and produce both eggs and sperm, but cannot fertilise their own eggs, they have to swap sperm with another snail before they can lay their eggs.
Since the league was started in 1888, only one non-league team has won the FA cup – Tottenham Hotspur in 1901 when they were members of the Southern League.
For his part in the gunpowder plot Guy Fawkes was Hung, Drawn and Quartered, and not burnt.
Thomas Cook was a 19th century Puritan teetotaller who organised the first ever “package trip” – a train from Leicester to Loughborough for people to attend a lecture on the evils of demon drink. This was so successful that further excursions were arranged and the Travel agents we know today was formed.
No league this week as due to the fact that I’ve really been a busy little bastard this week, I’ve not had time to key all the transfers and do the points update yet. However one of the transfers did raise my interest, along with a comment from one the top 3, and after checking it seems that I didn’t notice that the sneaky fucking Russian in charge of Heald Place Harriers had slipped a third Chelsea player into his side at the last transfer window. If he hadn’t tried to slip Craig Short of all people into his side I might not have noticed, that along with being asked can you have 3 from the same team in your side now, made me check (I was pointed to the team in question). I have therefore deducted all the points scored by his transferred in player for October. As for the informer, you’re a ruthless little cunt, but I don’t have time for grasses and have deducted them 5 points as well. After this weeks scores I have removed the 20 point penalty from Mr Smug, as he’s not going to be top, and anyway his head’s getting burnt so don’t mug yourself.
I’ve had an overwhelming response to the first issue, and felt it necessary to add a reader’s letter section, with just a small sample of what’s been arriving in my post this week. First I’ll go to Mrs Harrington of Lyme Regis, Dorset who writes “I was moved to tears, by the story of that poor little golf ball, and was wondering if there is somewhere I can send money to help to save it”. This was one of a number of letters on a similar line, so therefore I have started the Surerandomality Save the Golf Ball Appeal, details of which can be found at the end of this issue.
Robert De Bilde writes “I signed up to this by accident while pissing about on the internet, but I’m glad I did as it’s the most sensible thing I’ve read in ages, keep up the good work”.
And finally at the other end of the scale, a Mr Perrin of Hunstanton, Norfolk writes “What the fuck is this, who put me on your mailing list, please tell me so I can get my own back. I’ve spent 25 hours this week finding out all the Earls of Leicester so I can stop you sending any more of this shit to me” Unfortunately, Mr Perrin obviously didn’t spend enough time searching as he managed to miss one, so I’ll doubtless be hearing from him next week as well.
After failing miserably to take it easy last Friday, I’m not even going to try and claim the same this week. Work beckons again all weekend, and another quiz on Sunday, I can foresee large amounts of alcohol, and small amounts of sleep, though I do plan to find my way home this Saturday night. I really think that it’s time that I went to Rusholme and got a curry, as I’m suffering from withdrawal symptoms, as it’s 5 fucking weeks since I’ve been for a curry, though it’ll probably be a good idea to avoid going on Friday, as I’ll only fall asleep after my starter to wake up and find they’ve cleared my main course away again, or even end up with my face in it. Though I suppose that’d be better than getting my face painted, and another thing, I need to go to Scubar and have a pop at the shooters menu, as I’ve not been there since I went out for my birthday, Mmmm 22 shooters, that’ll get messy. Well that’s Saturday planned. Work – Scubar – Curry – Home. See y’all next week.
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TOTAL = 5
CUMMILATIVE TOTAL = 10