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Surerandomality Issue Six

INTRODUCTION

Welcome to issue six of surerandomality, which hopefully should be in its normal order after the printers completely fucked it up last week. What a week - again. Squirrel headed out by himself early on Friday at 5 and as the night went on he got to XS where he met up with Nikki who he hadn’t seen for months, then Wes arrived, and not long after that G man turned up, then Becky, and then finally Ricky and his mate Greg turned up, over to the orange grove, then leaving Becky and Nikki behind on to Jabez, G man wandered off early, leaving his famous “this has been around the world with me” jumper behind, never to be seen again (and boy have we heard about it - talk about whine), Ricky managed to get another female’s number, obviously a Friday night man. Squirrel and Wes stopped off for curry where Wes lost the plot, which ended up with a scuffle outside, definitely not a tip top ending to the evening, and it turns out Wes has a perforated ear drum for his troubles. Saturday involved wandering round town pretending to shop, comfy chairs in Waxy O’Connor’s again, and squirrel going to work, before going out and doing a quarter of the Didsbury dozen with G man, Ricky and Greg, in the meantime Hopalong was being a cultured man and was at the opera. Ricky and Greg went home, and Squirrel and G man went on to XS where they met Becky, and G man got Minda’s number (yes that is the correct spelling, the D shouldn’t be a G), then on to the casino (Viva Las Vegas) where they found no alcohol on sale, and blew a tenner each before going for curry, they got in, woke Ricky up to play cards, then thinking he was out, woke Hopalong up. Hopalong extracted revenge the following morning by waking G man at 10 telling him he was missing the Man U game as it was half time. G man shot up and was dressed and in front of the telly in a matter of seconds, only to be sat there for quarter of an hour before realising he’d been duped. Squirrel did a quiz in the evening, and got home to find everyone had gone to bed. Monday, Tuesday & Wednesday found both G man and Hopalong off sick, though the feeling remains that one of these illnesses was Mickey mouse, spurious, not genuine, and left the chances of G man doing two full weeks on the trot at fac all, in fact after Hopalong went back to work on Thursday, G man was still off, despite going out with Becs on the Wednesday night, Thursday night saw Hopalong and G man out again, this time with the final destination being Jabez, and on exit they were having a wrestling match, whilst speaking to me on the phone, somehow there's little chance of either of them being at work this morning. Been a busy little bastard at work again this week, and there have been loads of quality contributions this week again, with special thanks to Vic, it’s just a shame that I can’t send out all the attachments as well. So here it is.

ANNOUNCEMENTS

Commiserations to Andy Wallace, who after having to actually work for a living for a change, isn’t feeling himself. Rumours that he has instead been feeling 14-year-old girls are as yet unsubstantiated.

Belated congratulations to Victoria Mills from Essex, who received confirmation that she has passed her Masters degree last week.

Congratulations to one of our readers, Mrs Glynis Twite from Brixham, Devon, who gave birth to triplets earlier in the week, and has called them Alexander, Callum and Kevin. Mother and all three sons are doing well.

JOKES

A dustman is going along a street picking up the wheelie bins and emptying them into his dustcart lorry. He gets to one house where the bin hasn't been left out so he has a quick look for it (unusual I know), goes round the back but still can't see it so he knocks on the door. There's no answer so he knocks again. Eventually a Japanese bloke answers... "Harro", says the jappy chappy. "Alright mate. Where's your bin?" asks the dustman. "I bin on toilet" replies the Japanese bloke, looking perplexed. Realizing the Japanese fellow has misunderstood, the bin-man smiles and says "No mate, where's ya dust bin?". "I dust bin on toilet I told you" says the Japanese man. "Mate" says the dustman... "you're misunderstanding me... Where's your Wheelie Bin?" "OK" "OK" , says the Jap, "I wheelie bin having wank"

An old man lived alone in Minnesota. He wanted to spade his potato garden, but it was very hard work. His only son, who would have helped him, was in prison. The old man wrote a letter to his son and mentioned his predicament. Shortly, he received this reply, "For HEAVEN'S SAKE Dad, don't dig up that garden, that's where I buried the GUNS!" At 4 A. M. the next morning, a dozen police showed up and dug up the entire garden, without finding any guns. Confused, the old man wrote another note to his son telling him what happened, and asking him what to do next. His son's reply was: "Now plant your potatoes, Dad." "It's the best I could do from here

A new employee is hired at the "Tickle Me Elmo" (a cuddly toy which laughs when tickled) factory. The Personnel Manager explains her duties and tells her to report to work promptly at 8.00am. The next day at 8.45am there is a knock at the Personnel Manager's door. The assembly line foreman comes in and starts ranting about this new employee. He says she is incredibly slow and the whole line is backing up. The foreman takes the Personnel Manager down to the factory floor to show him the problem. Sure enough, Elmos are backed up all over the place. At the end of the line is the new employee. She has a roll of material used for the Elmos and a big bag of marbles. They both watch as she cuts a little piece of fabric, wraps it around two marbles and starts sewing the little package between Elmo's legs. The Personnel Manager starts laughing hysterically. After several minutes he pulls himself together, walks over to the woman and says: "I am sorry, I guess you misunderstood me yesterday, I said, your job is to give Elmo two test tickles".

A man had a terrible passion for baked beans, but they always had a somewhat lively effect on him. After he met the woman of his dreams, he made the supreme sacrifice and gave them up; he couldn't imagine subjecting his new wife to his beastly emissions. On his birthday, his car broke down, so he called his wife and told her he'd have to walk home. He walked past a cafe and the wonderful aroma of baked beans overwhelmed him. Since he was still a couple of miles from home, he figured he could indulge, and then walk off any ill effects. So he had three extra-large helpings of beans, and he "put-putted" all the way home. His wife met him at the door and seemed somewhat excited. She exclaimed, "Darling, I have the most wonderful surprise for you for dinner tonight!" She blindfolded him, and led him to his chair at the head of the table, making him promise not to peek. At this point, he was beginning to feel another one coming on. Just as she was about to remove the blindfold, the telephone rang and she went to answer it. While she was gone, he seized the opportunity. He shifted his weight to one leg and let go. It was not only loud, but ripe as a rotten egg. He gasped and felt for his napkin and fanned the air about him. He had just started to feel better, when another urge came on. This one sounded like a diesel engine revving, and smelled worse. He tried flapping his arms, to clear the air. But another one snuck out, and the windows rattled, the dishes on the table shook, and a minute later, the flowers on the table were dead. When he heard his wife ending her conversation, he neatly laid his napkin on his lap and folded his hands on top of it. He was the picture of innocence when she walked in. Apologizing for taking so long, she asked if he had peeked at the dinner. He assured her he had not, so she removed the blindfold and yelled, "Surprise!!!" To his shock and horror, there were twelve dinner guests seated around the table for his surprise birthday party.

A man was riding in the back of his limousine when he saw a man eating grass by the roadside. He ordered his driver to stop and he got out to investigate. "Why are you eating grass?" he asked the man. "I don't have any money for food," the poor man replied. "Oh, please come to my house!" "But sir, I have a wife and four children..." "Bring them along!" the rich man said. They all climbed into the limo. Once underway, the poor fellow said, "Sir, you are too kind. Thank you for taking all of us in." The rich man replied, "No, you don't understand. The grass at my house is over three feet tall!"

An old man and a young man work together in an office. The old man always has a jar of peanuts on his desk, and the young man really loves peanuts. One day, while the old man is away from his desk, the young man yields to temptation and scarfs down over half of the contents of the jar. When the old man returns, the young man feels guilty and confesses to his crime. "Don't worry, son. I never eat the peanuts anyway," the old man replies. "Since I lost my teeth, all I can do is gum chocolate off the M&M's."

This bloke walks into his local pub with a big grin on his face. What are you so happy about?" asks the barman. "Well, I'll tell you," replied the bloke, "You know I live by the railway? Well on my way home last night I noticed a young woman tied to the tracks, like in them movies. I of course, went and cut her free and took her back to my place. Anyway, to cut a long story short, I scored big time!" He continued "We made love all night, all over the house. We did everything, doggy style, spoons, me on top, sometimes her on top. I was totally shagged out this morning!" " Blimey", said the barman, "you lucky sod, did you get a blow job?" "No," he said, "I never found her head."

THIS WEEK IN THE NEWS

Not a news story, but a copy of an old very strange coroners report.

On March 23, 1994, the medical examiner viewed the body of Ronald Opus and concluded that he died from a shotgun wound to the head. The decedent had jumped from the top of a ten-story building intending to commit suicide. He left a note to that effect indicating his despondency. As he fell past the ninth floor, his life was interrupted by a shotgun blast passing through a window, which killed him instantly. Neither the shooter nor the decedent was aware that a safety net had been installed just below at the eighth floor level to protect some building workers and that Ronald Opus would not have been able to complete his suicide the way he had planned. Ordinarily, Dr. Mills continued, "a person who sets out to commit suicide and ultimately succeeds, even though the mechanism might not be what he intended" is still defined as committing suicide. Mr. Opus was shot on the way to certain death nine stories below at street level, but his suicide attempt probably would not have been successful because of the safety net. This caused the medical examiner to feel that he had a homicide on his hands. The room on the ninth floor from whence the shotgun blast emanated was occupied by an elderly man and his wife. They were arguing vigorously, and he was threatening her with a shotgun. The man was so upset that when he pulled the trigger he completely missed his wife and the pellets went through the window striking Mr. Opus. When one intends to kill subject A, but kills subject B in the attempt, one is guilty of the murder of subject B. When confronted with the murder charge, the old man and his wife were both adamant. They both said they thought the shotgun was unloaded. The old man said it was his long standing habit to threaten his wife with the unloaded shotgun. He had no intention to murder her. Therefore the killing of Mr. Opus appeared to be an accident, that is, the gun had been accidentally loaded. The continuing investigation turned up a witness who saw the old couple's son loading the shotgun about six weeks prior to the fatal accident. It transpired that the old lady had cut off her son's financial support and the son, knowing the propensity of his father to use the shotgun threateningly, loaded the gun with the expectation that his father would shoot his mother. The case now becomes one of murder on the part of the son for the death of Ronald Opus. Now comes the exquisite twist. Further investigation revealed that the son was in fact Ronald Opus. He had become increasingly despondent over both the loss of his financial support and the failure of his attempt to engineer his mother's murder. This led him to jump off the ten-story building on March 23rd, only to be killed by a shotgun blast passing through the ninth-story window. The son had actually murdered himself, so the medical examiner closed the case as a suicide. - Which just goes to show, why bother doing things thoroughly, just take the easy option, it’s right most of the time.

FILM REVIEWS

Surely one of the most bizarre music videos, has to be by Electric 6, it basically has two 40-something Germans sitting in what would be the drawing room of a country mansion, one man dressed up in typical English country gentleman, with tweed jacket, neckerchief, and riding boots and breeches, and one woman dressed up in a Basque and stockings. At regular intervals, his crotch will light up with a bright white light, and in a similar fashion so will her tits. At one stage in the video they are both on top of a large black cow, whose udders light up with the same kind of white light. The song is not bad, but you’d probably flick over to something else, but you feel yourself attracted to the video just sitting there in suspended animation wondering just what bizarre happening is coming next.

Die Another Day. Standard Bond fare, with a reasonable plot, but far too many gadgets, and not enough wit. Plus at least two totally ridiculous scenes, that snap the realms of reality, and therefore ruin the film somewhat, but still worth watching so that you can laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. For additional fun have an old woman sit next to you and fall asleep three quarters of the way through. – 3/5.

COMPETITION TIME

First of all last weeks winner. The answer was of course that Die Another Day has the most ridiculous surfing scene ever on film. The winner was Mr. Marvin Shoebridge from Ambleside, Cumbria, who declined the prize, so the 73 used green marshmallows have been donated to the local orphanage.

This week’s competition is, with tribute to the G man, this. Whoever manages to pull the person with the most unusual name over the weekend wins. For verification purposes, you must supply their name & their phone number so that we can verify they really have a ridiculous name and it’s not just that you were so pissed you couldn’t enter their name correctly into your mobile. Entries to the normal address.

STORY TIME

…Continued from last week.

She smiled to herself and looked away again, obviously used to drawing admiring glances, and confident enough in herself not to be overly bothered by it, and therefore able to brush it off. Embarrassed by being caught, in effect, staring, and his obvious reddening, he looked up at the map of the underground that was positioned above the seat opposite him, and tried to concentrate on that. Despite the concentration on the mass of different coloured overlapping lines occupying his visual senses, he couldn’t help but notice the sweet smell emanating from the woman next to him. It was the only perfume that he recognised, and for that matter remotely liked the smell of, and no matter when it was, or where he was, it always invaded his consciousness and made him stop what he was doing to see where the smell was coming from.

He always hoped that he would turn and find that it came from his first fiancé and greatest love Claire Fallenfant, who always wore Eternity, and a lot of the time wouldn’t wear anything else. He drifted away, his memory caught up with visions of Claire, he closed his eyes and thought back to their time together, remembering everything about her, her smell, the way she looked, the way they made love, the way she smiled.

But that had all changed, the pain had started not long after her 23^rd birthday, just a few months after they had been engaged. At first she had not really thought about it seriously, and hadn’t mentioned it to him, then as the pain increased she stopped smiling. He selfishly blamed himself for making her unhappy, not thinking that there might be something wrong with her that didn’t involve him. They started rowing about little things, until one day she let it slip about the pain in her back that was troubling her so much. She told him that it had been hurting for nearly 3 months, and he persuaded her to go to her doctor. She was in turn referred to a orthopaedic clinic specializing in back pain. She was diagnosed as having a malignant Vertebral column tumour, which had spread there from some, until then undetected breast cancer. A course of Chemotherapy was started immediately to send the breast cancer into remission, and was successful, but the pressure on the spinal column caused by the tumour was still causing her great pain, and it was decided to operate to remove the tumour. Unfortunately due to complications from the operation caused by her having an extremely weak heart, she died of a heart attack on the operating table.

He didn’t speak to anyone for months after, the feeling of guilt refusing to leave. His only correspondence being with Trebling software, who he was working for as a freelance computer programmer. His speciality being the animation of human motion, and he was busy doing the coding for Trebling’s blockbuster summer release Sacrilege, a role playing game involving a priest of all things. At least being freelance he didn’t have to go in as long as he sent in regular updates. He had plenty of time to do just that, as he seemed unable to sleep, sometimes 3 or 4 days would go by and he wouldn’t have been anywhere near his bed. He refuses to speak to his “friends” and after 2 months most of them had given up on him. They no longer rang or came to try and visit. It was during the testing stage for Sacrilege that he had the idea that would change his life. The idea was so simple yet so brilliant it cleared his mind of everything and his mourning period for Claire ended, All he seemed to remember of her now, was her pained expression from her last few months.

He opened his eyes, and wondered how long he had been drifting. The tube was now in daylight, and just leaving Osterley, he looked up at the map to find himself only 5 stops from Heathrow, the journey had gone quicker than expected, and he had been drifting all the way from just after Russell Square, some 15 or so stops earlier. He glanced to his side, and was somewhat surprised to see the woman still there, and still smiling. It hit him like Tyson blow; the woman sat next to him was so obviously a more beautiful version of Claire, only one that smiled. He closed his eyes again, rubbed them and then reopened them and turned to look at the woman again. It was true, it wasn’t just the olfactory sensation of the Eternity and the memory of Claire that it had triggered, the woman looked enough like Claire did that he was surprised that he hadn’t noticed it immediately. The features were more outstanding, and the hairstyle different, but the likeness was almost spooky.

She turned and looked at him again, and this time he didn’t look away, their eyes locked, and they held each other’s gaze for what seemed like an eternity, but what was in reality only a few seconds. He found himself smiling, but was unable to bring himself to speak. Her smiled broadened and a small laugh tumbled from within her. She opened her mouth and started to speak, but from the moment she started to speak, he couldn’t be sure of a single thing that she said, he was vaguely aware that she had called him by his name, which didn’t even register as being a surprise, what had stunned him was the voice, it was Claire speaking to him, the Philadelphia accent was there, though somewhat anglicised, but the pitch and tone were exactly the same. He felt like he was going to suffocate, was he imagining it all, unless he could snap out of his trance and speak he couldn’t be sure.

To be continued…. (You never know something might actually happen next week)

RANDOM FACTS

The first team to win the League Championship 3 times in a row was Huddersfield Town in the 1920’s, who for the first 2 of the 3 years were managed by Herbert Chapman, who then went on to manage Arsenal, who in the early 1930’s became the second team to achieve this feat. Herbert Chapman retired before the start of their 3 championship winning seasons.

All polar bears are left-handed.

Butterflies taste with their feet. (Can you imagine? How carefully would people walk around if we were the same?)

RANDOM THOUGHTS

Why women can't put on mascara with their mouth closed?

Why isn't there mouse-flavored cat food?

Why don't sheep shrink when it rains?

PROFANISAURUS ENTRY

Copper Wiring (sim).

The stray pube you find in your pocket amongst all your change.

FANTASY FOOTBALL

Another high scoring week, though not much change around the top of the table, and with this months transfers it seems that the top 4 teams are trying to neutralise as many of the differences between them as possible with many of them making transfers that make their teams more similar. Elsewhere the middle of the table keeps jumping about like someone with St. Vitus dance, and on the transfer front this month sees the first Birmingham player transferred in, meaning that every team in the Premiership has now had it’s players used, though everyone has dumped any Sunderland players they had. Finally the good news. The Cherokee Hair Tampons are not top.

And here are this month’s transfers

READER’S LETTERS

Swamped with post and e-mails again, it looks like I’m going to have to hire another member of staff to cope, before I start to get a backlog, therefore I have attached an application form for those of you that are interested in applying, send them to the address in the endnotes headed Job Application. The response to the Save the Golf Ball Appeal is still going amazingly well, with some extremely large donations this week. The grand total now standing at £176.98, 14 second & 9 First class stamps, 45 euros, $2.41, 8 drachma, 13 Yen, 5 Krugerands, 8 Luncheon Vouchers, £10 worth of Argos vouchers and £220 worth of HMV money off vouchers, thanks to all those that have contributed, and please keep those donations rolling in. The voting for the name the golf ball is going as follows: - Archimedes - 4, Dimples - 17, Huey - 9, Joey -12, Mark - 45 (please no - not another fucking Mark), Pericon - 7, Rex - 38, Tiddles 21, Whitey - 37 and Zebedee - 6. There is only one week left so hurry to get those votes in, the final result will be announced next week. Send your votes to the normal address headed Golf ball name vote.

Ms Ramsbottom of Alnwick, Northumberland wrote again, asking why I though her name was so funny, and bemoaning the fact that she hadn’t received her long overdue back copy of issue 1 when she had written. It has to be said that her surname does throw up a comical image. However on a serious note, we have had problems with the dispatch of back issues, which should have been sorted now that we’ve paid the post office bill, so apologies for that to Ms Ramsbottom and to other readers who have had difficulties.

Mr Michael Meadows of Solihull, West Midlands was one of many of you who wrote to complain about last week’s issue being all over the place. Again all I can do is apologise, the printers responsible have had their contract terminated and new printers have been found in time for this week’s issue

Mr Perrin’s legal representatives wrote again, totally ignoring the fact that they should be writing to surerandomality’s own legal team, which would suggest that just like their client they aren’t exactly Messer’s current affairs and that they are incompetent fucks. Mr Perrin has had a court date set and I’ll be off to King’s Lynn Crown court in the not too distant future.

A Miss Toni Cheviot of Stone, Staffordshire e-mailed to say that the Rat Olympics were a great event. “I’m in the US at the moment and when I read your last issue I realised that I was only about 50 miles away from where the Rat Olympics were being held. I managed to get tickets and saw some great action, and world records been set in both the mouth weightlifting, and the synchronised swimming. I am so thankful you let me know about it.” Well just glad to be of service and to issue something that doesn’t get me abuse.

AND FINALLY

This weekend could get messy, first of all Big Nick's up for the weekend, and with it being Wes’s birthday on Friday and a fairly early start on Deansgate locks, lot’s of alcohol later we’ll have to try and get home through the build up to Eid Mubarak in Rusholme, the scene of last weekend’s little scuffle. I'm gonna have to work one day over the weekend, which is unfortunate. Initial suggestions are that we may be going to see Mr. Scruff on Saturday, which would be tip top, but I can foresee there being problems with actually managing to make it. With it being Eid Sunday will be a going no further than Fallowfield day. After managing 2 curries last weekend I will probably be giving it a miss this week, as I don’t need the hassle. As normal it seems that Scubar will also be off the agenda, as I would imagine sleep will be. Whatever happens all I can say is that it isn’t a tickling contest. See y’all next week.

To unsubscribe from surerandomality then please send an e-mail to surerandomality@hotmail.com naming all the Earl’s of Leicester and I’ll think about it. If you wish to make contributions to surerandomality then send them to the same address. Births, Marriages, Deaths and other important messages also considered. If you know someone who deserves to receive this shit then let me know. If you would like to receive back copies of surerandomality (hurry as stocks are running out, Issues 2 and IV already having sold out) then please send a cheque or postal order for £5 per issue ordered made payable to Surerandomality UK to the following address Surerandomality UK, PO Box 007, 57b Nevik Boulevard, Upper Little Hampton, Westmorland. AK47 7UP. If you wish to donate to the save the golf ball appeal then please send donations to the same address, but made payable to Surerandomality Golf Ball Appeal. Votes for the golf ball naming should be header Golf Ball Vote. Application forms should be sent to the same address headed Job Application. Mail Bombers, please address all explosive packages as “Editor – Private and Confidential” as you wouldn’t really want any of the insignificant little helpers to get hurt, would you? All legal challenges should be directed to Surerandomality’s lawyers. S. Crude & S.C. Harper, PO Box 666, 18 Giants Causeway, Upper Little Hampton, Westmorland, AK47 5AM.

TOTAL = 8

CUMMILATIVE TOTAL = 36

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