Blonde of the week was won by Sarah, who put in some outstanding dizziness to win her first ever title.

Congratulations to Kev who reached 35 yesterday, and can now see 40 bearing down on him.

A fairly standard week on the mail front, but it would appear that all is not quiet on the western Europe front, lots more letters complaining about stereotyping from my review last week, but hey, shit happens. Young Kimberley has taken the week off and somewhat surprisingly the efficiency of the office has gone up tremendously, with just me here (you really can’t count Ethel), perhaps I need to wear blinkers to avoid distractions in my peripheral vision. At least that way I could claim that I didn’t see it, no matter what kind of funny angle it’s at.

What is it with some of our older readers? Let me make myself very clear. The whole Rex thing is over. There will be no appeal to save the appeal, or permanent reminder within these pages. For those of you that are really desperate there is still the pages about him on the website which can be left there for all eternity, though I might remove the links when I get round to updating the site in the next week.

Leanne Roberts from Enderby, Leicestershire writes, "Despite his meandering manoeuvrability, his strategical susceptibility and his tendency towards tetrocapability, have you noticed that Elvis is still Kickin." What? The only thing Elvis has kicked in the last twenty six years is the bucket, apart from that did I understand a single word of what you just said? No mate!

Ed Lockwood, from Surbiton, Surrey, writes "I am not surprised viewers made more than 2000 complaints about violence in Eastenders and Coronation Street. Both soaps are shown before the 9pm watershed and it’s no wonder the levels of violent crime are so high when it is so common on our screens." What the fuck is going on around here. Has Surerandomality turned into TV Quick while I was sleeping? Look, I don’t give a shit what any of you think about soaps. In fact what the fuck am I doing printing this shit? And before you start it was a rhetorical question.

Following on as bint of the week, taking over from Lucy Trott this week is a Martine Foulke, from Whitstable, Kent, who asks, "Is G Man the one from So Solid Crew." No, so fuck off.

A William Gates, from Seattle, USA, writes asking "I was sorry to read that you’ve been such a busy little bastard the past few weeks, and was wondering, whether I could help with your web site updates. My fees are low, an I have past experience from a major software house, and I’m sure you’ll find my work of an acceptable standard." Busy I may be, but I’m not wasting any money paying some fly by night software flunky to do a job I can do myself.

You’re sensitive little souls aren’t you ,well the French and Italian readers certainly seem to be. Shit a few passing comments during last week’s review and you all go fucking mental. Granted the French readership have never really been enamoured of my work, but it’s the first time any of the lazy wops have bothered to write in about anything so you can tell they must be a little irked. Now in the spirit of fair play I have printed one letter from each of the slighted nations. Granted they’re both in their own babbling languages, so I don’t understand a single word they’re going to say, but they certainly looked less angry than others.

First is a Paulo Sciandri, from Trieste, in Italy, who scribbles the following, "Siede e ha chiuso su, lei grande, calvo fuck. Non amo Doug di paese di mio di lasciare, e non amo soprattutto l'esso di lasciare per niente le spiaggie meno poi sabbiose, ed i cocktail con i piccoli cappelli di paglia! Se lancio un osso a un cane, non voglio sapere se assaggia buono o non. E se lei mai me interrompe sebbene cammino, taglierò suo è giacobbi di fucking via da." That reminds me, I haven’t been to Pizza Hut for ages.

Meanwhile a Jean-Pierre Mitterand from Rheims in France pens the following, "Boris La Lame, autrement su comme Boris "le russe de Fucking Sournois" comme a courbé la pour ainsi dire propre faucille, et aussi dur que le le marteau qui les crosses il. Apparemment, c'est impossible de tuer le bâtard. aucun Tommy, je ne dis pas que vous ne peut pas tirer, je sais que vous ne peut pas tirer, je suis seulement dire il le ferait probablement endommage plus si vous l'avez nourri à lui." Just one question, why don’t you find vampires in France?

Mr Perrin, 45 words, now that’s more like it, but you missed the short and sweet issue, to which it would have been appropriate..

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

Remington is introducing its Bikini Trim and Shape electric razor in the U.K. The razor, which was previously introduced to the U.S. market, is specifically designed for women to use to shape their pubic hair. According to the company, their market research found that 79 percent of women shaved off part or all of their pubes, and 36 percent trimmed their hair into a specific design, such as a heart or their partner's initial. - Rumours are that Tony Blair bought one to shave with, are probably justified, after all he is a cunt.

Federal authorities arrested Nona Cason, 39, at gunpoint. Her children, aged 9 and 11, were put into foster care while she sat in a Ft Lauderdale, Fla., jail for six days. Her crime? "Apparently, I look like this other woman," she says. French national Pierre Fourcade had sworn in U.S. court that Cason was his fugitive wife who had run off with his children. Cason, who had birth certificates for her children, sat in jail until DNA tests proved that they could not possibly be related to Fourcade. Even then, Kathleen Ruckman, an attorney for the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children who had assisted authorities, wasn't satisfied, suggesting Cason bore the children for another man during her 20-year marriage to Fourcade. But court officials accepted the DNA evidence and released Cason and her children, and Fourcade admits his identification was in error. Besides an obvious resemblance between Cason and the missing woman, what led Ruckman to Cason? Well, Cason "looked like a foreign person," she said. - Yeah, and I look like a barrage balloon, doesn’t make me one though.

1. Napoleon Bonaparte
2. Catherine The Great
3. Winston Churchill
4. Charles Dickens
5. Alexandre Dumas
6. Thomas Edison
7. Cary Grant
8. Marilyn Monroe
9. Vincent Van Gogh
10. Rudyard Kipling

A quiet weekend would be somewhat of an understatement. Friday saw Hopalong out with Mary who was up for the weekend, Ricky Organ was with Jayne in his room, and Squirrel and G Man just sat round watching TV. Saturday saw Ricky Organ head down to Bedford for Greg's birthday. Hopalong and Mary stayed in his room, Squirrel and G Man were sat in front of the TV again, and were joined by Garden and Dale for the evening. Sunday again saw a severe lack of motion, with Hopalong and Mary going out, and Ricky Organ returning from Bedford. The week continued in much the same fashion with very little motion from anyone, until Wednesday when the residents of Chez Didsbury were boosted by the arrival of the Chemist, who is starting his new job on Monday, and along with other conscripts they went to play their first powerleague fixture (more details later). Upon return The Chemist and Hopalong sat up drinking until the very early morning, and Hopalong was showing signs of wear and tear all day Thursday. That evening saw G Man out and about somewhere, but it has been a really quiet week, where basically any rumours of activity have been spurious, not genuine and worth fuck all.

He strained to take a look out of his window as the passengers from the other plane made their way across the tarmac to his plane. They were kept in close formation by a whole host of guards that had seemed to materialise out of thin air. As they walked across he could see the fuel truck lining up under the 727 and the refuelling process start almost straight away. One of the escorted passengers broke out from the ranks as they walked across and made a run for it. Just what he was making a run for, or where he was planning to go was anyone's guess. There certainly wasn't any cover or really anywhere to run to. Whatever his plan, it came to an abrupt halt, as one of the accompanying guards turned and let loose a barrage of shots from whatever type of machine gun he had. The running man ground to a sudden and somewhat final stop, keeling over face first into the ground.

Two more guards walked over to the prostrate man, and one of them pulled out a handgun and shot the man at point blank range in the back of the head. Then the shooter and the other guard took an arm each and dragged the man off to the airport outbuildings. They opened the garbage skip and dumped the man into it, before walking back to where the no longer moving body of passengers were. Another guard took out a gun and fired it into the air, and as if someone had poked them with a pitchfork the passengers lurched into sudden motion.

He got the feeling that no one else would be making a run for it. He looked over at the skip, and despite himself shuddered. He wondered for a moment about his own mortality and hoped that his final resting place would be somewhere a bit more auspicious than a garbage skip outside an airport building.

The doors to the airport building opened, and the passengers that had been released from his own plane came rushing out of the doors, making their way to the refuelling 727. Although he couldn't pick out their faces at this distance, he was quite sure that they would be scurrying across the tarmac with looks of fear and bewilderment across their faces.

He glanced back down to where the other plane's passengers should be walking across to his plane, but found that he couldn't see them, and therefore they must already be at the plane's steps or actually boarding now. This was confirmed when in what seemed a few seconds he could here voices issuing instructions, and he could just about make out someone's voice, perhaps that of the person in overall control, ordering the new hostages just where they would have to sit.

Looking back out of the window he saw the refuelling truck retreating from the 727, and to his surprise the 727 was already taxi-ing along the runway. It was almost as if those released couldn't get away quick enough. Despite being in the cabin he could here the thrust (or at least he imagined he could) of the 727 as it sped along the runway to apparent freedom. He briefly wondered whether it was the end of the ordeal for those on the 727 or did they still have hijackers in control on that plane.

Sarah (Talking about homeless people) – They always claim to have no money, yet they always have mint sleeping bags

Hopalong & Ricky Organ (Separate occasions, but both talking about joining the Wednesday power league) – What day do we play?

Michael Jordan makes more money from Nike annually than all of the Nike factory workers in Malaysia combined.

In the great fire of London in 1666 half of London was burnt down but only 6 people were injured

Only one person in two billion will live to be 116 or older

If man evolved from monkeys and apes is G Man a throwback?

Why do "tug" boats push their barges?

Millenium Domes (n).

The contents of a wonderbra, i.e. very impressive when viewed from the outside but there's actually fuck all in there worth seeing. Disappointing tits.

Bob is a regular guy out at a local bar One night having a good time, Jack, the bartender and owner of the bar, offered him another drink. As he served the drink Bob spoke up. "Hey Jack, you're a betting kinda man aren't ya?" "Maybe Bob, what did ya have in mind?" "Well Jack, I'll bet you $1,000 that I can put a shot glass at the end of your bar and piss into it without spilling a drop." Jack thought to himself, "This guy must be a complete moron! There's no way he is gonna make that. This is gonna the easiest grand I've ever made." So the bartender says, "Okay Bob. You're on." Jack walked down to the other end of the bar and positioned a shot glass on the end. He walked back behind the bar and said, "Okay Bob, Let's see what you got." Bob unzipped his fly and staring pissing all over the walls, over the bar top, all over the bottle of booze, and all over Jack. Jack roared with laughter and almost fell over. Afterwards he noticed that Bob was sitting at the bar smiling. "What are you smiling at jackass? You just lost $1,000!" "Well Jack, ya see that guy over there in the cowboy hat writing out a check?" "Yeah, what about him?" "Well I just bet him $10,000 that I could piss all over your bar, your walls AND you, and not only wouldn't you be mad...you would laugh hysterically about it."

A German woman is walking down the street. Eleven blonde guys walk up and attack her. She screams, ''Nein! Nein!'' So two guys walk away.

A little kid walks into a city bus and sits right behind the driver and starts yelling, ''If my dad was a bull and my mom a cow I'd be a little bull.'' The driver starts getting mad at the noisy kid, who continues with, ''If my dad was an elephant and my mom a girl elephant I would be a little elephant.'' The kid goes on with several animals until the bus driver gets angry and yells at the kid, ''What if your dad was a drunk and your mom was a prostitute?!'' The kid smiles and says, ''I would be a bus driver!''

Why doesn't a blonde talk during sex? Because her mother told her never to talk to strangers.

Dan married one of a pair of identical twin girls. Less than a year later, he was in court filing for a divorce. "OK," the judge said, Tell the court why you want a divorce." "Well, your honor," Dan started, "Every once in a while my sister in law would come over for a visit, and because she and my wife are so identical looking, every once in a while I'd end up making love to her by mistake." "Surely there must be some difference between the two women," the judge said. "You'd better believe there is a difference, your honor. That's why I want the divorce." he replied.

Jerry Garcia died. He wakes up and finds himself on a stage on which a number of instruments are set up. A door offstage opens and in walk Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison, Brian Jones, John Lennon, Otis Redding, and Buddy Holly. Each musician picks up his favorite instrument and begins tuning up. He walks up to Jimi and says, "Man, so this is what heaven is like." Jimi looks at him and says, "Heaven? You think this is heaven?" At that moment, Karen Carpenter walks in, takes her seat behind the drums, and calls out, "Okay guys, 'Close to You'. One, two, three, four . . . "

A man escaped jail by digging a hole from his jail cell to the outside world. When finally his work was done, he emerged in the middle of a preschool playground. "I'm free, I'm free!" he shouted. "So what," said a little girl. "I'm four."

A prospective juror was being questioned by the District Attorney for a murder trial that had been in all the papers. "If the defendant were to be convicted tomorrow, could you kill him for his crime?" "Well, no." replied the man. "But I could do it on Saturday if that would be OK."

Did you hear about the dyslexic devil worshipper? He sold his soul to Santa.

What do you call a Mexican with a vasectomy? A Dry Martinez!

During a taxi run, the crew of a US AIR flight to Ft. Lauderdale made a wrong turn and came nose to nose with a United 727. The irate ground controller (a female) screamed, "US Air 2771, where are you going? I told you to turn right on "Charlie" Taxiway; you turned right on "Delta. Stop right there! I know it's difficult to tell the difference between C's & D's, but get it right!"

Continuing her lashing to the embarrassed crew, she was now shouting hysterically. "God, you've screwed everything up; it'll take forever to sort this out. You stay right there and don't move until I tell you to! Then, I want you to go exactly where I tell you, when I tell you, and how I tell you. You got that, US Air 2771?" The humbled crew responded, "Yes, Ma'am." The ground control frequency went terribly silent; no one wanted to engage the irate ground controller in her current state. Tension in every cockpit at the airport was running high. Then an unknown male pilot broke the silence and asked, "Wasn't I married to you once?"

Tony just finished his training session at the local McDonald's. So he was a little nervous being behind the register for the first time. His first customer ordered a Milkshake. "Tony," his manager said, "remember to say 'Welcome to McDonald's' to each customer before they order." His second customer ordered a Cheeseburger. This time, the manager approached Ted again, and said, "Remember to ask each customer if they want fries with their order." At this point a man came in wearing a ski mask, approached Tony at the register and pointed a gun in his face. "Give me all the money you got in that register kid!" Tony took one look at his manager, thought to himself, and quickly said, "Would you like that for here or to go?"

A little more action on the horizon this week. Friday promises to be the lull before the storm, though with it being Kev's birthday, the promises of going for one drink (as muttered by Kate), and the continued teetotalism of Squirrel could be in jeopardy, and things could get messy. Saturday sees the Chez Didsbury Resident's association, plus other random invited guests and hangers on have tickets to go to Friends and Family, where Mark Rae is playing a set. However Squirrel may escape from the reservation, though he is being a sneaky fucking Russian as he refuses to say where he may be escaping to and who with. Sunday should see more TV watching, before the new working week begins. See y'all next week.

Daniel Lambert is probably Leicestershire’s most recognisable figure, and a number of items belonging to him can be found within Leicestershire museums.

He was born on 13^th March 1770 in Blue Boar Lane in Leicester, to Ann and George Lambert, who was the Governor of Leicester’s Bridwell prison. He was a healthy and athletic lad of normal weight and size, and a small appetite. He went to Birmingham in 1784 to become an apprentice in engraving and dye sinking, and returned to Leicester in 1788. Then in 1791 at the age of 21 he took over from his father as the Bridwell prison governor. He remained the governor of Bridwell prison until 1805 when the prison was closed, at which time the County Magistrate awarded him a pension of £50 per year. This was probably due to the fact that he was said to have been a popular person and was loved by the prisoners who he always tried to help. By the time he was 23 he weighed 32 stone, and by the time he left the prison he weighed 52 stone despite only eating one (not very large) meal a day, and being teetotal. In April 1806 he went to live in London for 5 months, where people paid 1 shilling to come and see, and speak to him. After this he returned to live in Leicester, but he again returned to London in March 1807 where again people paid 1 shilling to see and speak to him. It was said that people were pleasantly surprised that he was quick witted, polite and intelligent.

After this second visit to London he again returned to Leicester, but made various visits to the provinces and it was on one of these that he died. He died on Wednesday 21^st June 1809, at the Waggon and Horses Inn on a visit to Stamford. A wall had to be knocked down to get his body out of the Inn. It took 20 large men to carry his coffin to his grave in the churchyard of St. Martins (now the cathedral).

He stood 5 feet, 11 Inches tall and weighed 52 Stone and 11 Pounds at death and remains to this day the heaviest ever British person. He had a waist measurement of 9 foot 4 inches and measured 3 foot 1 inch around his thigh.

His tomb stone (which should be somewhere in the Cathedral grounds) read as follows:-

"In remembrance of that PRODIGY in NATURE DANIEL LAMBERT a native of LEICESTER who was possessed of an exalted and convivial mind and , in personal greatness had no COMPETITOR. He measured three feet one inch around the LEG, nine feet four inches around the BODY and weighed FIFTY TWO STONE ELEVEN POUNDS. He departed this life on the 21^st June 1809 AGED 39 YEARS. As a testimony of respect this stone is entered by his friends in Leicester."

Here’s this week’s random review

The world 9 ball pool championships. Last weekend saw the sharp end of the knockout phases, and also saw many hours of immobility in front of the TV watching it. Friday night saw the reigning world champion Earl "The Pearl" Strickland playing Steve Davis in the last 16, and one of the worst displays of throwing all his toys out of the pram witnessed for a long time. Earl managed to go on and win, but during the match complained about everything, had a slanging match with various members of the audience, abuse the ref (the lovely Michaela Tabb) and various histrionics while taking shots. Meanwhile quietly making his way through was a young German (Thorst Hohman) who managed to escape from being 10-6 down in the quarter finals in a first to 11 match to get to the semis and kick the whining Yanks arse, before easing to victory in the final.

First the answer from last week. What fun and games last week’s question caused. OK, the most popular answer was that a tonne of lead weighs more, just because it’s the most popular answer doesn’t make it the correct one. Then there were those of you who wrote in saying it was a trick question, and that you were supposed to think that and that obviously the correct answer is that the tonne of feathers is heavier. Eventually I did find that there are some sane readers out there, who got the correct answer that they both weigh the same, and the first correct answer out of the hat was from a David Dumas, from Fareham, Hampshire, who wins 38 bananas

For this week’s competition, all I want to know is in John Buchan’s book where are the 39 steps that the title relates to? 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 copy of The 39 Steps by John Buchan.

TOTAL = 20

CUMMILATIVE TOTAL = 521