No blonde award this week cos nobody said anything. No really it has been deathly quiet all week.

Happy birthday to Squirrel who celebrated his 33^rd birthday on Wednesday. There will be liquid celebration, but not until Saturday 5^th July, which will be a pub crawl originating in Didsbury, and is part of a triple birthday bash, along with Ricky Organ and Tessa, who both reach 24 in July.

Unfortunately you didn’t get last week’s letters, which I would like to say is a shame, but most of them were crap anyway, so you didn’t actually miss very much. Somewhat surprisingly I’ve managed to catch up with all the outstanding e-mails and letters (I told you I’ve been a busy little bastard this week). Furthermore I actually managed to get my staff to do some work, something of a rarity in itself

Anyway let’s not stand on ceremony, lets start the show.

Yes people you’ve told me, I know I’ve not done a map for the Rex memorial service yet, and it’s going to be too late to do one now, so either use streetmap.co.uk or just drive to Leicester and ask a random person when you get there (and trust me there are some very random people there).

Yes, I know that the letter’s section last week was the same as the one the week before, and no I wasn’t being lazy, it was an error by the printers, which means that this week’s edition is being printed free of charge as recompense.

Yes people you’ve told me, last week’s edition was shit, as was the week’s before, and the week before that, but unfortunately there are times when it’s not possible to maintain the normal high standards, if any of you muthafuckers think you can do a better job, then you’re welcome to try, if not sit down and shut up you big bald fucks. It has to be said that they will go down in history as the dogshit trilogy

Three foreign correspondence this week, first of all this from Manuel, from Alicante in Spain "Que el hombre de G es un mono loco, él necesita ser más alto sin. Embargo. En cuanto a Ricky, él debe parar el ser tal arrogante lo sabe todo. La ardilla es tuercas y es probbaly autistic, en cuanto al salto adelante, él necesita salir debajo del pulgar" Somehow it doesn’t look like the most complementary piece of writing.

Then onto a Sittawan Musiophobinetin from somewhere I couldn’t quite make out in Thailand "Prungnii tieng kuen shan rak khan, dirn tang dooi swasdee pap pob gan mai wanangkan, Mii kai mai, ign mai dai tang mod tau rai." Looks suspiciously like a shopping list to me, just not sure about the wanangkan though.

And finally for the foreigners, this from Fritz Schultz, from Bremen in Germany "Leben, es ist kein kitzelnder Wettkampf. Jemand hat mich, was ich ungefähr Diamanten gefragt weiß? Ich weiß nicht! Dann hat jemand anders, Was im Auto gefragt Ist? Kommt es von Antwerpen? Es war eine rhetorische Frage." Not really sure but it looks like directions to Belgium, or something like that.

Miss Kelly Scarborough, from Maidstone, Kent writes, "You are a sexist bastard, how can you say women know nothing about football, there are just as many women supporters as men, and they talk a lot more sense to. I know lots about the game, and even play occasionally, you should keep you’re bigoted views to yourself." Yes love, just cos you like to stare at men’s legs doesn’t make you a football expert, now does it?

Meanwhile Craig Drummond, from Billingham in Cleveland, writes from the other side of the coin, "A tip top call last week mate, I fully agree, that women know nothing about football, and think that they shouldn’t have tickets for matches, as those tickets could be used by real fans. They should stick to their netball thingy." Need I say more?

Mark Ainsworth, from Dunstable, Bedfordshire writes, "I think you were a bit harsh on summer in your review section a couple of weeks ago, it is the best time of year, when we have bearable temperatures, no rain and light nights, it’s certainly far better than the miserable winter months with all the snow and cold, and darkness." Was that supposed to be a convincing argument? Well if it was you failed miserably, and I stick with my original assessment, summer is a pile of shit.

Mr Perrin, I know you’re in prison, and there might not exactly be a lot to do, but there is absolutely, positively no fucking need to send me 751 (I had young peaches count them) pages of hand written rubbish, where in hell do you get the money for the postage? It costs more than the postage did on your fucking letter bomb, but at least I can just bin your shit, I just feel sorry for the poor bastard who has to sit and read it before it leaves Lincoln prison.

That's it for the letters for this week, BUT there will be more next week. BUT, only if you’re lucky.

A couple of items that caught my eye this week

"I never really wanted a roommate, but he said he had no place to go," remembers Aaron Smith, 39, of Frederick, Md. But "I figured, Why not? He'll be able to help me out with the rent." But 10 months later, Smith kicked his roommate, Robin E. Lewis, 35, out of his townhouse for failing to pay up. Six weeks later, Smith discovered Lewis had never left -- he had been living in the attic and was keeping track of Smith via a phone tap and baby monitors. Worse, Lewis was wanted by police as a suspect in an armed robbery. When detected Lewis fled, allegedly by stealing Smith's car. Smith says he doesn't want to return home until Lewis is caught. - Bet you all go home and check your attics this evening.

Police in and around Philadelphia, Pa., say duct tape is a new weapon of choice for criminals. Murder victims are being found bound with it, and a foster mother was arrested after binding children in her care as punishment. "It's very common, it's plentiful, it's efficient," says the author of the textbook "Practical Homicide Investigation". Plus, "they're less apt to get out of it than rope." Investigators say the surge in duct tape is due to the government urging citizens to stock up on the tape to help fight terrorism. - Sounds like good advice, help stop terrorism, buy a roll of duct tape today! Just think of the marketing possibilities that opens. Help the homeless, but a pair of marigolds today.

an attack on the remains of the Smirnoff Blue.

The grand total for the appeal finally stood at £691.79, 12 Guinea, 58 second & 51 First class stamps, 202 euros, $39.99, 9 Irish Punt, 12 drachma, 71 French Francs, 23 Swiss Francs, 34 Belgium Francs, 1756 Andorran Pesetas, 44 Yen, 301 Australian dollars, 666,666 Italian Lira, 2,056,179 Turkish Lira, 7 Krugerands, 28 Luncheon Vouchers, 124 Green Shield Stamps, £221.50 in postal orders, 14 Esso tokens, £30 worth of Circus Casino (Viva Las Vegas) chips, 71,000 WH Smith club card points, 18,000 Nectar points, 4 Car wash tokens, 5 Milk Tokens, £15 worth of Argos vouchers, £2.50 worth of Mothercare vouchers, £20 worth of Specsavers vouchers and £1420 worth of out of date HMV money off vouchers. This has now all been transferred over to The Mango Protection Alliance. They have acknowledged receipt, and would like to thank everyone who had contributed to the Rex appeal over the last six months.

Remember that the time, date and location has been sorted for the Rex Memorial service. It's going to be held on this coming Sunday, 29^th June 2003, and it's going to be held at the Checketts Road Kingdom Hall in Leicester. If those of you interested in coming, that need directions, you can e-mail the Surerandomality offices, but the chance of a speedy reply is spurious, not genuine and worth fac all. The best thing to do would be to go to streepmap.co.uk and put a search in on that. A word of warning, get there early, as parking can be a right facing nightmare on a Sunday afternoon, as all the local pensioners are already parked all around, while they attend the next door Working's Men Club, for their traditional Sunday afternoon whist drive. Nearly forgot, the time will be 4.30pm.

He was bored, any more bored and he could pass himself off as a MDF kitchen work surface.

Nothing worked any more, the more he tried to get things to work the more frustrating it became, he was being left with his thoughts again - dangerous ground for a man with a mind like his, there would be no limit to what kind of devastation he could cause given time alone with his thoughts. No target would be considered too sacred, no miniscule detail would be considered too trivial.

The portal was open and there was no known force in the universe that could stop the flow in and out of his mind. It was like traffic flowing through Spaghetti Junction, occasionally become log jammed, BUT nothing that decent colonic irrigation couldn't fix.

The colours all came at once, right across the spectrum from black to white, like an acid trip in full Technicolor, and along with them came the sounds, from the sounds of silence like the high pitched frequency of the dog whistle, to the low hypnotic rumble of an earthquake, with sudden violent bursts of volume that offended the ear drums like a Garth Brooks greatest hits CD.

And now he was at peace, with all senses working at the very limit of their own existence, his nose smelling everything, from the particles of sweat on his forehead, cooling the fever he was feeling, to the remnants of Stella on his breath from intake the night before, he felt hot, cold and somewhere in between, not quite sure which was which.

In this peaceful trance he had induced it became very clear that the meaning of life that everyone had searched so hard for was within reach. It was so simple as well. To reach that plain of nirvana all he had to do was give up working, give up sleep all together and take up drinking as a 24/7 occupation, the only thing that prevented this was finding a sucker to sponsor this new life opportunity.

Back to reality, back to life, back to the feature on a Friday night. Things had by some strange miracle of fate started working again, which meant by the definition set down Richard Laymon in Beast House that nothing would ever be the same again. Or sane again for that matter. The portal had collapsed on itself like a card house on a table that had been kicked by a baby elephant.

He would now have to work at a pace set by a sadistic whipmaster on a Roman Galleon in order to escape to the pub before happy hour had finished, or he would never maximize the drinking capabilities of the money that he didn't have in his wallet.

Such is life BUT on the less shitty side of the stick it wasn't death, and you can't be MDF if your busy, just a little bastard.

Ricky Organ :- And so what was the name given to me that day?

Squirrel, G Man and Melvin (in unison) :- TWAT

A donkey will sink in quicksand but a mule won't

The average garden variety caterpillar has 248 muscles in its head

Certain frogs can be frozen solid then thawed, and continue living

When dog food is new and improved tasting ... who tastes it?

If flying is so safe, why do they call the airport the "Terminal"?

Why the sun lightens our hair, but darkens our skin?

Spam Butterfly (n).

A finger assisted close-up pink shot in a bongo mag.

A little boy runs across this farmer who has a truckload of cow manure. The boy asks him what he is going to do with all that cow poop. The farmer tells the little boy, ''I'm taking it home to put on my strawberries.'' The little boy looks up at the farmer and says, ''I don't know where you come from, but where I come from we put cream and sugar on our strawberries.'''

A little boy was in his room playing with himself, when his father walked in. "Son! If you masturbate too much, you're gonna go blind!" "Dad," the boy said, "I'm over here."

A guy walks into a bar, sits down and has a drink. Suddenly, a man hollers at him, ''I screwed your mom last night!'' Disturbed, the man tries to ignore him. Again, he hears, ''Your mom was good in bed last night!'' Again, he tries to ignore it. The man is just about to speak again but the guy stops him and says, ''Dad, go home, you're drunk!''

Learning he had a rare disease whose only cure was mother's milk, Mr. Shipman took out a personal ad looking for a nursing mother. To his delight, he found a woman almost at once and, after agreeing on a price, he went up to her apartment. As it happened, Mr. Shipman had incredibly soft lips, and an active tongue, and after five minutes of nursing, the woman was almost beside herself with passion. "Is there anything else I can offer you?" she panted. Smiling impishly, Mr. Shipman responded, "If it's not too much trouble, do you happen to have any Oreos?"

Why do farts smell? So deaf people can enjoy them, too.

It's common practice in England to ring a telephone by sending extra voltage across one side of the two wire circuit and ground

(earth in England). When the subscriber answers the phone, it switches to the two wire circuit for the conversation. This method allows two parties on the same line to be signalled without disturbing each other. An elderly lady with several pets called to say that her telephone failed to ring when her friends called; and that on the few occasions when it did ring her dog always barked first. The telephone repairman proceeded to the scene, curious to see this psychic dog. He climbed a nearby telephone pole, hooked in his test set, and dialed the subscriber's house. The phone didn't ring. He tried again. The dog barked loudly, followed by a ringing telephone. Climbing down from the pole, the telephone repairman found: 1. The dog was tied to the telephone system's ground post via an iron chain and collar. 2. The dog was receiving 90 volts of signalling current. 3. After several such jolts, the dog would start barking and urinating on the ground. 4. The wet ground now completed the circuit and the phone would ring. Which shows you that some problems can be fixed by just pissing on them. But only temporarily.

Once upon a time, there was a Prince who, through no fault of his own, was cast under a spell by an evil witch. The curse prevented the prince from speaking or writing but for only one word each year. However, he could save up the words so that if he did not speak for a whole year, the following year he was allowed to speak two words. One day, he met a beautiful princess and fell madly in love with her. With the greatest difficulty, he refrained from speaking for 2 whole years so that he could look at her and say, "My darling." But at the end of these 2 years, he wished to tell her that he loved her. So he waited 3 more years without speaking, bringing the total number of silent years to 5. At the end of these 5 years, he realized that he had to ask her to marry him. So he waited another 4 years without speaking. Finally, as the 9th year of silence ended, his joy knew no bounds. Leading the lovely princess to the most secluded and romantic place in that beautiful royal garden, the prince heaped a hundred red roses on her lap, knelt before her, and taking her hand in his, said, "My darling, I love you! Will you marry me?" And the princess tucked a strand of golden hair behind her dainty ear, opened her sapphire eyes in wonder, and parting her ruby lips, said, "Pardon?"

A man returns from Africa and is feeling very ill. He goes to see his doctor, and is immediately rushed to the hospital, to undergo a barrage of tests. The man wakes up after the tests in a private room at the hospital, and the phone at his bedside rings. "This is your doctor. We've had the results back from your tests and we've found you have an extremely deadly virus, which is very contagious." "Oh my gosh," cried the man, "What are you going to do, doctor?" "Well we're going to put you on a diet of pizzas, pancakes, and pita bread." "Will that cure me?" asked the patient. The doctor replied, "Well no, but...it's the only food we can get under the door."

A young couple got married and went on a cruise for their honeymoon. When they arrived home from the honeymoon, the bride immediately called her mother, who lived a couple of hours away. "Well, darling," said her mom, "how was the honeymoon?" "Oh, mother," she replied, "the honeymoon was wonderful! So romantic, we had a terrific time! But, mother, as soon as we returned, Sam began using really horrible language... Stuff I'd never heard before... Really terrible 4-letter words... You've got to come get me and take me home. PLEASE MOTHER!" And the new bride began to sob over the telephone. "But honey," the mother countered, "WHAT 4-letter words?" "I can't tell you, mother," said the daughter, "they're too awful! COME GET ME, PLEASE!" "Darling daughter, you must tell me what has you so upset... Tell mother the 4-letter words!" Still sobbing, the bride said, "Mother.... he is using words like: DUST... WASH... IRON... COOK!

A juggler, driving to his next performance, is stopped by the police. "What are these matches and lighter fluid doing in your car?" asks the cop. "I'm a juggler and I juggle flaming torches in my act." "Oh yeah?" says the doubtful cop. "Lets see you do it." The juggler gets out and starts juggling the blazing torches masterfully. A couple driving by slows down to watch. "Wow," says the driver to his wife. "I'm glad I quit drinking. Look at the test they're giving now!"

Paddy was in the quick fire round of a pub quiz. He was asked "Name a bird that can’t fly." So he replied "That bird from Holby City"

Squirrel is going out straight from work for a few quiet drinks (yeah, where have we heard that one before?) which means that things will get messy, without a DJ Shadow of a doubt. Ricky Organ is at Wimbledon, but most of the usual suspects will be out and about. The rest of the weekend is somewhat of a mystery, so expect some free styling and random happenings. But on the whole it should be fairly quiet with people saving themselves for the triple birthday bash the following week. See y’all next week.

Here’s this week’s random review

This week it back to the classics, and another from the star stable of Steven Seagal, this time in Marked for Death, in which he plays an ex DEA agent back in his home town, who pits his wits against the local yardie drug runners, led by Screwface. Once again Seagal was nominated for an Oscar for the role, which with the brilliantly unpredictable plot, and the superbly choreographed action sequences, make this an outstanding film, which could consider itself to be unlucky having narrowly missed out on the best picture award to Silence of the Lambs. 6/5

First the answer from last week. The chemical symbol for Selenium is Se. This week’s winner, who wins a year’s supply of Imodium, is Marshall Jefferson from Southend, Essex.

For this week’s competition, all I want to know is how long is a piece of string? Answers to the normal addresses through the normal channels, and the first correct answer drawn out of the Surerandomality hat next Wednesday afternoon, wins a knitting pattern.

TOTAL = 20

CUMMILATIVE TOTAL = 461