Murray vs Federer: The Saga of the "Mostest"

Today I'm going to introduce you to a new concept, "the mostest". You need not inform me that there is no such word as mostest, because I know this. But there's no other word in the English language that quite describes what exactly is meant by mostest. And even if there is, it doesn't have quite the same flair. Mostest refers to over achieving, delivering more enthusiasm than a particular task requires. Going above and beyond to out do every one else in the arena of life. This in itself isn't a bad thing but it is important to note that those who do the mostest are seldom likeable. However when someone does the mostest and is exceedingly charming a super star is born. There is one lessons to be learned from this:

• If you must do the mostest, then please learn to be charming, or good spirited about it. Develop the ability to laugh at your over eagerness and try to infect others with it. This is the difference between the Hermione Granger at the start of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone and the Hermione Granger at the end of Harry Potter and the Philosopher's stone. You'll find that if everybody does the mostest then nobody does the mostest and this my friends is a win win situation.

Happy Hermione.

Weepy Hermione

 A classic example of the mostest is the difference between Murray and Federer. They're both exceptional tennis players, one of them may be slightly better than the other, but the publics reaction to the both of them is very different. One of them is loved by everybody, but the other is hated. People have even come up with the theory that he may be slightly autistic to cover up the fact that he is a twat. Because he is a twat even if he should win a Grand Slam in his home country he will never do as well as he would have if he was likeable. 

Murray with his arse in the air, and we still don't like him.

Mostest is the word that describes my night out, last night. 


Enter Lola
Lola is a perfectly nice plus sized girl. She's incredibly gregarious and out going. She's rather charming. However in her quest for the mostest, she entered the club, downed a few and proceeded to gyrate most vigorously in shoes that she found horrendously uncomfortable.

Afam: Why did you wear the shoes?
Lola: They make my legs look longer.
Afam: But aren't they even mildly uncomfortable
Lola: Just a tad (she winces)
Afam: (She thinks me daft. Everyone knows that it's impolite to banter in euphemisms)
Afam: Do you think they'll be a hindrance during the night?
Lola: Of course not. The shoes improve the look of the outfit, and force one to stand tall. They're indispensible.

An hour after having this conversation. I saw Lola in the venue. She was lying across a couch with her foot on the table. On closer inspection she had ice on her ankle. I knew instantly that she had been visited by calamity. However this was not enough to stop Lola from doing the mostest. Every time a song she liked played she would make her way to the dance floor and dance vigorously. As we speak Lola, is in bed, leg bound and strapped. She's unable to put weight on it. She's had to crawl to the bathroom to brush her teeth.


Enter Pappillon
 Before that night I had not met many of the individuals I went out with. Pappillon was no exception. Pappillon is a spectacular mover. He has an intrinsic feel for that sort of thing, but there's something in me that makes me look at people dancing in clubs and parties with the eyes of my ex House Master Reverend Leyton. As a result of this I could never be impressed by spastic movements that are not of the classical kind. Having said this Pappillon's musicality was impressive. 

Pappillon: Why don't Nigerian men ever cream their feet, and then have the audacity to go without wearing socks?
Afam: Because it's the fashionable thing to do. 
Pappillon: But don't you think it unreasonable? I mean yours looked like you've just walked through the desert.
Afam: I beg your pardon! I find it odd that you chose to focus on the little bit of leg cleavage that I have going on.
Pappilon: But really. Did you moisturize the rest of your body and neglect to moisturize your legs?
Afam: (I was nearly overcome by his rudeness. He was doing the damn mostest. Fine! My feet may have been a little dry but we didn't need to have a full conversation about it, did we?)
Afam: Well I can't see what the state of my feet has to do with anything.
Pappillon: Why didn't you wear any socks then? 
Afam: The shoes I'm currently wearing are penny loafers and as such they do not require the use of socks every time they're worn. I thought this was common knowledge. And since you seem so concerned with the subject, I am wearing socks. They just happen to be invisible. 
Pappillon: I don't believe you.
Afam: (Removes foot from shoe and displays ballet socks)
Pappillon: Oh. I didn't know.
Afam: I'm sure you'll find that there are many things about which you know nothing. Some things are best left unmentioned.


I, like you after reading that long exchange was hoping that that would be the end of all dialogue with Pappillon, but if wishes were horses, beggars would ride. At the end of the night, Pappillon once again sauntered up to me.


Afam: (In head: Not him again)
Pappillon: Your feet are really dry though.
Afam: (Fixes the most condescending glare in my arsenal on the poor fellow)
Afam: Are they really? I hadn't noticed.
Pappillon: They are remarkably dry.
Afam: Thanks for pointing it out old chap. 
Pappillon: No problem. Do you know the difference between Nigerians and Jamaicans?
Afam: No.
Pappillon: Jamaicans have only one parent.
Afam: Do they really?
Pappillon: Oh yes! The crisis is so great that some schools in Peckham and Brixton and such refer to Parents evening as Parent evening. Hahahahaha.
Afam: (Lord! How does this suffice for banter? Even on a good day I would have been alarmed.)

Are you vaguely annoyed? Probably. Was I? Not really. I just thought that this guy was doing the mostest to have me deposit him in the nearest bin. I'm not in the habit of giving people I don't like what they want so I stayed my hand.


Enter Millie

Millie's a very nice girl, it is unfortunate that I'm not as nice. Her womanly senses failed her the moment she set her sights on one Afam. You all know that I have declared myself a bachelor, from this time until the end of time. Furthermore on that night of the mostests I had no desire to be tempted away from my aspirations to lead a quiet single life with Captain Reginald (Rottweiler) and Snowy (West Yorkshire Highland Terrier). I've considered adding an Asquith. Yes, I need not be told. I am quite talented in the naming of pets. Anyway, Millie a 24 year old went about her crush in the most primary school manner. She told Lola, who told me that she had a crush on me. She did this after blushing like a school girl, smiling and resorting to cliche pick up lines. When Lola told me, my only response was I know. How could I not know, after the afore mentioned displays of interest? 

Afam: Hi, we haven't met before. I'm Afam.
Millie: Turns beetroot red. Or as red as a black girl can get.
Afam: I myself turn red.
Millie: Shy smile.
Afam: I remain red.
Millie: No, I'm Millie.
Afam: (Still red) Cool. (My throat is dry. I haven't been in a situation like this since I was 10 and very much infatuated with Coks. The flowers in my mothers garden can testify to this.)
Millie: Have I met you before? I mean you look familiar...
Afam: (Oh? I'm familiar with this one. I play along.) You do too. But I don't think we've met...
Millie: Hmmm.
Afam: Maybe I've got one of those faces.
Millie: Maybe I've got one of those faces.


All reasonable conversation ends there. You may disagree with me here, but the blushing I'm a primary school saint act was the mostest. How was that supposed to sway me from my Bachelor dreams and aspirations? As a REAL MAN even though I was plied with alcohol, I remained firm and resolute.


Enter Dancing Fool:
Shakespeare is often commended for his use of fools in prose.  So it's not surprising that my tale should have a fool. Yes, I just did that. No, I shall not spell what it was that I did out for you.


We were on the dance floor busting a move  when this character turned up. I had spotted him from afar, busting out some poorly co-ordinated and ill-timed b-boy moves. He had already terrified half the people in the venue with his futuristic spasms when he descended on our posse. He first attempted to battle me, but being of a calm and even tempered disposition, I declined. After this he descended on Pappillon, where he displayed animalistic movements and beautifully turned out feet. It occurred to me that his feet were wasted on a b-boy, in a previous life he must have been a ballerina. After tiring Pappillon out, (this in itself is an achievement as we all know that Pappillon is relentless) he moved on to the mostest of them all, Pepperman. Pepperman, is a handsome likeable, easygoing, overachieving medical student who also happens to be a professional dancer. He out danced the fool several times, but the man didn't know when he was defeated. He kept coming back for more. Pepperman understood that the night could only go downhill from then, and requested that we leave the venue. 


You see the difference here? I could not help but like Pepperman in spite of his talents. This is the power of an over achiever with a decent attitude. 


Happy Days,
Afam