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Seventh Issue of Surerandomality
Welcome to seventh issue of surerandomality, and yet again it’s a case of same shit different week. As expected G man never made it to work on Friday, however somewhat surprisingly Hopalong did. Squirrel spent a couple of hours dozing on the sofa before G Man surfaced. Big Nick turned up at around half 3. G man went home to Harrogate for the weekend, leaving Squirrel, Ricky, Hopalong and Big Nick to go out on Friday night. Squirrel met up with Becky, Wes and his workmates for Wes’s birthday in XS. The other 3 went to Squirrels and met up with Mary and Becs, and arranged to meet up with everyone else later. Met with Pod and Wes’s brother in Paramount and headed to Walkabout via Teasers, in fine tradition Wes got thrown out of Walkabout (cause unknown), and Squirrel, Becky, Pod and his brother wandered off to Chinatown, therefore just missing the others who had just arrived at Walkabout. Wes managed to get thrown out of the Chinese for arguing with a waiter, and Squirrel went after him, but couldn’t find him, and when he went back everyone else had gone, and he’d left his phone behind, he later found out Becky had it. Saturday meant work for Squirrel, and he met up with Becky and her mum in town, got his phone back and then straight to XS, Ricky, Hopalong and Big Nick turned up later, then Mary and her housemates and then a somewhat sheepish and worse for wear Wes. Tried to go and get in the Queen of Hearts, but there was a queue!!! And it wasn’t moving so went back to XS and got blasted. Did absolutely nothing on Sunday, except order curry, and listen to Ricky arguing with a neighbour over where he’d parked. Monday, did nothing again except relax and recharge, whereas everyone else was at work (Including surprisingly enough G Man). All in all another tip top weekend. Ricky and Hopalong both had their Office Christmas parties last night, both managed to meet up later and a stop press message at ten past four this morning from them saying that they'd just won £140 at the casino (Viva Las Vegas), Obviously this again casts doubts on their ability to make it to work this morning. Back at work, and surprisingly enough I’ve been a busy little bastard all week. Yet again, lots of high quality contributions this week. So here it is.
Happy trails to Andy Wallace, who will shortly be off to Japan to teach English, his decision, of course, having nothing to do with the fact that all Japanese women are small and therefore look like they are 14.
A brief announcement from Kev – “I’m not a fucking Brummie!!!!”
Congratulations to G Man for managing to do a full week for only the second time since before publication started.
The pastor was talking to a group of young children about being good and going to heaven. At the end of his talk, he asked, "Where do you want to go?" "Heaven!" Suzy cried out. "And what do you have to be to get there?" asked the preacher. "Dead!" yelled Little Johnny.
One day God calls down to Noah and says, "Noah me old china, I want you to make me a new Ark". Noah replies, "No probs God, me old Supreme Being, anything you want after all you're the guv' . . . ". But God interrupts, "Ah, but there's a catch. This time Noah, I want not just a couple of decks, . . I want 20 decks one on top of the other". "20 DECKS!", screams Noah. "Well, OK Big Man, whatever you say. Should I fill it up with all the animals just like last time?" "Yep, that's right, well . . sort of right . . this time I want you to fill it up with fish", God answers. "Fish?", queries Noah "Yep, fish . . well, to make it more specific Noah, I want carp - wall to wall, floor to ceiling - Carp!" Noah looks to the skies. "OK God my old mucker, let me get this right, you want a New Ark?" "Check". With 20 decks, one on top of the other?". "Check". "And you want it full of Carp?". "Check". "Why?" asks the perplexed Noah, who was slowly but surely getting to the end of his tether.......................... "Dunno", says God, "I just fancied a Multi-Storey Carp Ark".
A guy is at home watching the football, when his wife interrupts! "Could you fix the Fridge door? It won't close properly." "Fix the fridge door?" "Does it look like I have Zanussi written on my forehead? I don't bloody think so." "Fine!" she says, "Then could you at least fix the steps to the front door? They're about to break." "Does it look like I've got Ronseal written on my forehead? I don't bloody think so. I've had enough of this, I'm going to the pub!" So he goes to the pub and drinks for a couple of hours. When he arrives home, he notices that the steps are fixed. He goes to the fridge to get a beer and notices that the fridge door is also fixed. "Honey, how'd this all get fixed?" "Well" she says, "when you left, I sat outside and cried. Just then a nice and very handsome young man asked me what was wrong, so I told him. He offered to do all the repairs, and all I had to do was bake him a cake OR have sex with him." So what kind of cake did you bake him?", He asked. She replied: "HELLO!!!... Do you see Mr. Kipling written on my forehead? I don't bloody think so!!"
A zookeeper approaches three boys standing near the lions' cage and asks them their names and what they're up to. The first boy says, "My name's Tommy and I was trying to feed peanuts to the lions." The second boy says, "My name's Billy and I was trying to feed peanuts to the lions." The third boy says, "My name is Peanuts."
Not long after his marriage, Dave and his dad, Jon, met for lunch. "How's married life treating you, son?" Jon asked. "Not good, pop. It seems like I've married a nun." "A nun? What are you talking about?" "A nun. As in 'nun' in the morning, 'nun' at night, and flat 'nun' at all unless I beg." "Ah. I see. Well, look, Dave, why don't you and your wife come on by for supper tonight and we'll have a nice talk about it." Dave smiled and said, "Thanks, Dad. That's a great idea." "Good," Jon said, "I'll just call home and tell the Mother Superior to set two extra plates."
At a remote monastery deep in the woods, the monks followed a rigid vow of silence. This vow could only be broken once a year on Christmas, by one monk, and the monk could speak only one sentence. One Christmas, Brother Thomas had his turn to speak and said, "I love the delightful mashed potatoes we have every year with the Christmas roast!" Then he sat down. Silence ensued for 365 days. The next Christmas, Brother Michael got his turn, and said, "I think the mashed potatoes are lumpy and I truly despise them!" Once again, silence ensued for 365 days. The following Christmas, Brother Paul rose and said, "I am fed up with this constant bickering!"
A blonde with two burnt ears went to the doctor, who asked what had happened. "The phone rang, and I accidentally picked up the iron." "What about the other one?" "They called back."
A couple of items that have caught my eye this week.
The town council in Warringah, NSW, Australia, was upset that they could not block a cell phone company from putting an antenna on the top of a new lighting pole in a council-controlled park. After a legal challenge was denied, the council changed their tactics: hours before the scheduled installation they sent a man out with a chainsaw to cut it down. (Sydney Morning Herald) - That’s what I like to see, some lateral thinking, obviously wasn’t going to be an English council.
"I said, 'OK, man, you're being stupid, put it away'," says Jim Roban, 39. Matt George, 21, was showing off his new pet rattlesnake to friends at his Yacolt, Wash., home. George had taken the snake out of its cage to give it a kiss. "He said, 'It's OK, I do it all the time'." Maybe so, but this time the snake bit him firmly on the upper lip. When George dropped the snake, Roban killed it. "I thought his head was going to blow up, he was just swelling and swelling," Roban said. Doctors say George should survive. (Vancouver Columbian) - Just further proof that we weren’t supposed to have pets, and that the best animals are dead cooked ones.
It had to be done.
Stick Men. Kiwi film about playing pool, and drinking. Little else can be said to improve on that, except that it includes a gangster with no hands, just hooks, some large kiwi heavies (heavies are good, heavies are reliable), driving hookers to their johns, and some tip top dialogue and the main characters showing they’ve got the minerals. Oh yeah, and it revolves around playing pool and drinking – ‘nuff said.5/5
First of all last weeks winner. It has to be said that you’re attempts at unusual names were piss poor, and none compares to Minda that the G Man had the week before. As for the joker who claimed to have pulled Peaches Geldof, who do you think you are? Wallace? She’s only twelve!!! If you’d have tried Fifi Trixabelle then you’d have had more chance. Therefore there is no prize being given away this week.
For this week’s competition a bit of observation is required, all you need to do is tell me, including this issue, what is the average time that Surerandomality gets sent out on a Friday morning, in the event of a tiebreak the first person to have got the correct answer to me wins. This week’s prize is a Pink Barbie quartz watch.
…Continued from last week.
He felt like he’d fell from a great height into a freezing cold pool of water. All his senses were numb, and yet screaming at him at the same time. He couldn’t breath, he tried but no air came, there was just a moist taste and smell of salt, his lungs felt like they were going to explode. He tried to look around, but everywhere he turned everything was dark and blurry, he couldn’t hear sounds as they were being made, he only heard them as hollow vibrations, all his senses actually felt exactly the same as if he was actually underwater, and in danger of drowning. He became vaguely aware of something shaking him.
His senses began to return and he realised it wasn’t something, but someone - the woman. The smell of her Eternity invaded his nostrils, and snapped him back to the land of the living. His eyes opened wide, and he managed to take that first gasping breath, just as he would have done if he were emerging from beneath the water of a swimming pool, after a long time. From the corner of his eye he saw that the tube was stopped at a station, and as if he had been given an electric shock, he jumped up, grabbed his bag and dived from the tube just as the doors were shutting, amazing himself in the process, both with the speed of movement, and with the fact that he had had the presence of mind to remember his bag.
He turned as he heard the woman shout “Wait!”, but it was too late, the doors had already shut, and the tube was starting it’s slow build up of speed as it pulled away. He looked around and found that he was at Hatton Cross, and was surprised to find the tube had travelled four stops in what seemed no time at all, especially at this end of the line where the stations were further apart. How long must he have been in a trance state this time? He found a seat on the platform. He needed time to pull himself together. In the space of less than 40 minutes his mind had descended into the kind of panic and desperation that three years and thirty thousand dollars worth of therapy had taken to remove.
It wasn’t that he had seen the mystery woman on the tube before the one he had boarded, that had happened enough times by now for that to be of minor consequence. Yes he’d love to actually speak to the woman, and see if she knew any more about that white room, and what had happened during those eleven days, but he was fairly certain that it wasn’t supposed to be. There was a reason why he just kept missing her, and he was sure that it would become apparent at some stage, but it wasn’t worth worrying about now.
He was also fairly sure that it wasn’t the Eternity thing, god knows how many times he had smelt it in the nine years since Claire’s death, and although it normally bought about brief thoughts of her, more than often it was gone in seconds, and he just carried on. For some reason today, it had triggered a drift away that had lasted the best part of half an hour. He wondered whether his subconscious had been well ahead of his senses and realised that the attractive brunette he had sat next to on the tube was so spookily similar to Claire, that when his olfactory senses kicked in, it triggered a larger flashback than he had ever experienced.
The look-alike had really freaked him out, and he remembered that it was her starting to speak to him, and sounding exactly like Claire as well, that had triggered sensory shutdown, he vaguely recalled that while he was slipping into his mental paralysis that she had called him by his name. He wondered how the hell she knew it, he was certain that they had never met before, and although he was becoming a known face in Philadelphia, it wasn’t as if he had national, let alone international recognition. He thought that it must have been the combination of events that had caused him to lose it completely and then bolt from the tube like a crazy man, which he supposed was what he had been like.
He let another tube pass, as he still had just about enough time to check in, he would get the next one, as he didn’t want the look-alike to be waiting for him as he got off the tube at Heathrow, nor did he want to still be here, if for some reason she came back to look for him.
He got on the next tube and completed the, now short, journey to Heathrow, there was no one on the platform, and he rushed through to the check in gate, just as it was about to close. He checked his bag and made his way to the departure gate. The plane to Philadelphia International Airport was already boarding, but he knew that as a first class passenger, he didn’t have to rush to fight for a decent seat, as it would have been prebooked. He always had a central aisle seat, which allowed him to sit next to someone else as opposed to a side seat, which meant he would be sat by himself. He always liked to talk to someone new, and hoped that he would get some interesting conversation.
He got through the departure gate with the minimum of fuss, and boarded the plane. He had no hand luggage, to stow, and he liked to keep his jacket on until after the plane had taken off. He found his seat and sat down. He turned to his right to see who he was sat next to, and his heart almost stopped, he was sat next to his mystery woman, he looked straight ahead, and tried to control his breathing, he couldn’t believe that he would actually get the chance to speak to her. This thought was interrupted by someone calling his name from the left of him. He turned slowly with a sense of dread, knowing that he would find the look-alike in the seat across the aisle. Even though he knew it, it didn’t make the shock any less, the pain hit him, a blinding white light filled his head, and he fainted
To be continued…. (You never know something might actually happen, I wouldn’t hold your breath though.)
No word in the English language rhymes with month, orange, silver, and purple.
111,111,111 x 111,111,111 = 12,345,678,987,654,321
The highest point in Pennsylvania is lower than the lowest point in Colorado.
If it's zero degrees outside today and it's supposed to be twice as cold tomorrow, how cold is it going to be?
Why are they called buildings, when they're already finished? Shouldn't they be called builts?
Stagecoach (n).
A Cramped filthy ride which leaves you in need of a wash.
Thankfully he still hasn’t made it to the top, but it is getting closer, and at one stage during the week, The Cherokee Hair Tampons were just a point away from that top spot, and another points deduction. Elsewhere it would seem that The Heald Place Harriers have bounced back from their poor spell after their points fine and are heading back up the table. Meanwhile Cartman’s Heroes, who led the table a few short months ago seem to be in free fall, and are struggling to see where there next points will come from (much like Banjo Wielding Strikers but you can’t get any lower than bottom).
-Annual Table-
Position-Team-Points
1st-Free Transfer XI-824
2nd-The Cherokee Hair Tampons-820
3rd-Shhoooooottt!!!-798
4th-Relegated By Christmas-791
5th-And Sergei Rebrov Wins The Golden Boot-746
6th-Nottingham Saints-735
7th-Bonus F.C.-730
8th-Heald Place Harriers-704
9th-Wednesday Wannabes-692
10th-SMB Arsenal-690
11th-Big Unit's Cherries-689
12th-Cartman's Heroes-684
13th-Steps Into Jansen's Ring-660
14th-Premiership Rejects-636
15th-Maine Road 1923-2003-628
16th-Geordies On Top-620
17th-Helen Chamberlain's Body Stocking-595
18th-Banjo Wielding Strikers-537
-Upto and Including 12th December-
Swamped with post and e-mails again, I desperately need help. I am still accepting applications for the job as my PA, with the closing date being Monday 16th December, though it has to be said that any applicant will have to go some to beat the outstanding computer marked score from the application received from Miss Candy Suxx, during the week, who scored an incredible 34/35. The response to the Save the Golf Ball Appeal is still going quite well, with donations still coming in this week. The grand total now standing at £198.76, 14 second & 11 First class stamps, 47 euros, $2.41, 10 drachma, 13 Yen, 5 Krugerands, 9 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 now complete and in traditional style here are the results in reverse order 10. Archimedes - 7, 9. Zebedee - 8, 8. Pericon - 12, 7. Dimples - 17, 6. Huey - 19, 5. Joey -20, 4. Tiddles 44, 3. Whitey - 76 2. Mark - 85 (thank god that stupid name didn’t win), and 1. Rex - 86, who due to a flurry of last minute votes with Glasgow, Lancaster and Chesterfield postmarks just squeezed to the top. Therefore from this point forward the Golf Ball will be known as Rex.
Miss Tyreena Zuill of Gainsborough, Lincolnshire, wrote complaining about the competition last week, saying that it was unfair to have a competition where the object was to ridicule people’s names. Furthermore she fully agreed with Ms Ramsbottom that it was unfair to laugh at people’s names, as it isn’t their own fault they have their names, it’s their parents that name them. That was just a brief summary of the long rambling whining pile of crap that was received. I’ve only got 2 comments on it. 1. Have you never heard of changing your name by deed pole, granted a lot of people use it to give themselves daft names but it can be used to get rid of crap names. And 2. If anyone had pulled you last weekend they’d have won the competition hands down.
Meanwhile Mr John Barton of Redcar, Cleveland wrote to contradict the letter from Miss Toni Cheviot of Stone, Staffordshire, that was in last week’s edition. He writes, “ I must disagree strongly with the letter you published last week from that stupid bimbo about the rat Olympics. Only a total fucking airhead could have found that remotely entertaining. If that’s what’s considered as top entertainment in Staffordshire then I’ll make sure that I never enter the county.” I suppose everyone is entitled to their opinions, but this is from a man who comes from the end of the world where they think that all ice creams should come with lemon sorbet on top, the words pot and kettle spring to mind.
I suppose no edition of reader’s letters would be complete without some correspondence from Mr Perrin, or his legal advisors. I have, amazingly enough through my own legal team received a summons to attend King’s Lynn Crown court in January regarding the Letter bomb case, and the following week to attend Norwich County Court in response to a privately brought case to discuss damages for mental cruelty caused to Mr Perrin by myself, which they surely know is a spurious, not genuine case, and their chances of winning are fac all. Full dates and times will be given nearer the time for those of you who would be interested to come and watch, and I will be available at both venues to sign any copies of Surerandomality that you bring.
This weekend will get messy, with Squirrel, G Man and Ricky making the trek up to Newcastle to see Paul, and rumour has it that Little Mark and Phil are also going to be there, so a heavy weekend is going to be in order, loads of football to be watched in Pubs and there has been the mention of the casino (Viva Las Vegas). Hopalong isn’t making the trek, and was offered the G Man’s United tickets, which he had to decline as he is under orders to do the Christmas shopping, which has somewhat taken the jam out of his doughnut. But whatever happens you know what to read if you want to stay Mr / Miss Current Affairs. 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 Rex appeal then please send donations to the same address, but made payable to Surerandomality Rex Appeal. 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 = 11
CUMMILATIVE TOTAL = 47