The NEA Awards

20:53:00
Because I haven't lived in Nigeria for quite sometime, there's a lot that's still new to me. For instance I just found out that we've got something here called the NEA awards. That stands for the Nigeria Entertainment Awards. I know. How hopelessly bland? It's so dull I could die. You're probably so bored by that bit of news that you want to strangle me and then grill me on a spit. The interesting thing about this is that the NEA awards are not held in Nigeria, they're held in New York.

I know what you're thinking because I'm thinking it too. You're thinking, "But why the hell are the Nigerian Entertainment Awards being held in New York and not in Nigeria?"

It's certainly very odd. It's like hosting the BAFTA's in Australia, or having the Superbowl in South Africa. 

I did a little research and apparently, the reason why it's held in America is to promote the image and culture of Nigeria around the world. 

STOP IT!!

The only thing you're saying about Nigeria is that it's such a fucking shitty shithole that the event can't possibly be held here. Or maybe it's one of the many real manifestations of our inferiority complex. In my experience all or most Nigerians seem to come with a default setting that renders all things Nigerian unsatisfactory before they are proven as unsatisfactory and all things Western epic. 

And that's how this Rambling Madman sees it. 

Happy Days,
Afam


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The problem with us, and maybe Hollywood...

13:53:00


There’s something a little bit weird about Hollywood. That sentence is a little misleading because it implies that I’ve got some inside information about the “stars” that live there, and I don’t. I only know as much as you. What I mean is that there is something off about our interest in them. The moment we come to adore them, (and we can’t be blamed for loving them for they are all so loveable. Even Kanye’s short temper gains some sort of cute-ish quality once looked at through the tint of Hollywood) we pick up the puppet strings that control their lives and pull them as we see fit. We judge them by our standards, and punish them when they deviate from our expectations of them. Child stars suffer the most from this.

As they navigate puberty and approach young adulthood, we, who shouldn’t have any control over them at all, lend our hands to their shaping. We justify this by saying that they’re role models to the masses hence they must be held to higher standards of behavior than the typical young person.  There are two problems with this. The first is that the individual in question did not choose to be you or your child’s role model, so at some point or the other they will disappoint you. At one stage of their lives, they will get a belly button piercing or dye their hair, or get a tattoo or twerk and you’ll be pissed off. The second problem is that young people don’t make very good role models for anyone. After Chris Brown beat Rihanna, attempts were made by the media to turn her into the how to guide for dealing with an abusive partner. She was meant to break up with him, see that he was prosecuted to the full extent of the law and then never speak to him again. That would have been the wise thing to do but she didn’t and she can’t be judged for it either, because before she became your role model she was a mere mortal.


Furthermore they find themselves trapped between the fans that want them to remain children and the adult audience that couldn’t care less about them. To lose their perceived innocence, they rebel spectacularly against everything and anything remotely associated with good sense and propriety. Jessica Biel, posed topless in the March 2000 issue of Gear magazine. This made the producers of 7th Heaven so mad that they brought legal action against the magazine. Lindsay Lohan obliterated her child star image by partying and drugging her way through her late teens and much of her twenties, and let’s not forget that she’s posed nude numerous times. Miley Cyrus, is twerking and slutting her way away from Hannah Montana and everything that the Disney character stood for. The list goes on forever. It’s about time that we cut these youngsters some slack. I’d hate it if I had to see Ariel Winter (Alex in Modern family), Zendaya Coleman (Dancing With the Stars finalist and Shake it up main character) or Elle Fanning, sprawled across the cover of Playboy in the name of seeking a more adult audience. 


Happy Days,
Afam

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Recap of Last week, featuring Demi Lovato and Prince William

17:39:00
My feet in Toms. 


Last week was a little bit of an odd one. You see, ever since I became a rambling madman I haven't had cause to blog about the same thing three times in a row. Of course, the posts have been different but they've mostly been about the fact that any way you look at it, there's no way anyone in their right mind should refer to Africa as a country.

Some people have said that I'm being pedantic, but I don't think so. They say that people say, "I'm going skiing in Europe" all the time. And I agree. They do. But let's get real, no one tells you that they've gone skiing in Europe three times in a row without specifying where they've gone by the third time. If they do then they probably haven't gone anywhere, they're avoiding you. Yes, that individual is probably lying on his or her bed lying to you because you're a little bit of a handful and they want a break from you.

That's a really cool shot of her tattoos. I think I'm going to get me some. I want birds flying from my right bum cheek to my right shoulder. What do you reckon?
 In the first blogpost of the week, Demi Lovato said, "Crikey! I'm going to Africa to attend Simba's naming ceremony." She also said, "I'm sure there'll be tigers there, because there's no animal that you cannot find in Africa." (I paraphrase and invent heavily here)

While the second quote is undoubtedly false there's a little bit of truth to it. There are some rather good zoos here. Well not where I am, because in Nigeria, a zoo is and can only ever be a bush meat bank. When power goes out (and power will go out) and the electrified fences fail, someone will realise that the zebra, is no longer where it was. But maybe there are good zoos in South Africa (and there are, I hear good things about the National Zoological Gardens of South Africa, the largest zoo in the country). 

 When Demi got to Africa, she then said, "Oh My GOD!! There are people here too!! And why did I land on a paved runway and not some dirt track? You've just killed my dream y'all." (I paraphrase and invent here too. Demi, didn't really say any of this)
 She couldn't believe that she was in Africa, and I don't blame her. Sometimes when I wake up, I think that I'm still in Manchester, on my massive bed in my Studio on the 21st floor, but then I hear the air conditioner and I remember where I am and cry.

After an unreasonably long period of time, Demi learned that she was in Africa, but it was too late. the damage had already been done. I was still annoyed, so I wrote this.

I've just learned that Demi's in Kenya on a Me to We volunteer trip. She's helping build a Free the Child school. Of course you must see that my problem with Demi's tweets isn't that I didn't know where Demi Lovato was, or that she didn't know where she was. It was that she repeatedly referred to one country as Africa, and that is abysmal. It's a sensitive issue with me. Africa is too vast, and too diverse, for any bit of it to be referred to as the whole of it. And my sensitivity is not unfounded. After all, living in Nigeria, and being aware of the tension that exists between the North and the South serves as a constant reminder of the results of the last time our individualities were disregarded for convenience. So I will not sit down, and keep quiet, when Demi Lovato tells her 17 million followers that she's in Africa. 

You'd think that, that was the end of it but it wasn't. One Rebecca Macatee, while doing what she imagined was damn good journalism said that the late Lee Thompson traveled to a small African village, shortly before he died, for religious purposes. I was pissed off again. You see, Demi Lovato probably didn't know any better. I don't know that she finished High School and I know that she definitely hasn't been to university so she doesn't know any better. Rebecca Macatee on the other hand is a graduate. She ought to know better. But that wasn't the only reason why I was annoyed. I was annoyed that she hinted that the man's Yoruba religion killed him. She practically insisted that it did, even when the authority on the religion said that it didn't. It's just like when my doctor tells me that I'm anaemic, but I knowing next to nothing about medicine insist that I have cancer. Crazy no?

After that, I was drained. I was spent. I didn't want to talk about Africa again. I mean, I'm passionate about Africa, but being passionate is exhausting! I was going to once again hide the African chip on my shoulder with concealer, but then Prince William went and said that he wanted an African themed nursery for his son, prince George.

"I'll have toy elephants and rhinos around the room. We'll cover it in, you know, lots of bushes and things like that. [We'll] make him grow up as if he's in the bush."

They really are a very good looking family. Don't they look like they're in the bush already? 


Well, as far as I know, there aren't a lot of African bushes with elephants and rhinos. I'm quite sure that that most of the African bush hasn't got elephants and rhinos, but that's okay isn't it? It's okay because try as we might when people who don't live in Africa say Africa, they really mean Kenya, or Tanzania, or South Africa or the bits of it with those exotic animals and sprawling savannah. I mean we're a continent but we've only got one ecosystem. It doesn't matter where you go on the continent, it's all the same.


So I give up. I can't talk about it anymore. I won't harp on about it because the only place for broken records is the bin, and I won't allow you fickle readers to put me in the bin. I'll be here for as long as I am here. I swear.

Happy Days,
Afam

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The day Yoruba became a religion and the day "a small Village in Africa" became damn good journalism

18:28:00
Okay E News, let's do this. I don't really have time for this because I'm mega busy and stuff, but I made time for you. You should be pleased.

Now, what in the hell kind of a daft article was that? (see article here: http://fr.eonline.com/news/450431/lee-thompson-young-suffered-from-depression-leading-up-to-tragic-death-says-source)

First, you started by saying sources close to Lee Thompson Young said that he had suffered from depression in the months before he died. What more do you need? Depression and suicide go hand in hand. If you're depressed enough you're bound to think, "man, this life isn't for me. I don't think I should be alive. Sorry folks and friends this isn't about you, it's about me" and then you just might kill yourself. In fact, I'm pretty sure that to be diagnosed as depressed you have to have thought about suicide. So why on earth did you need to go on and talk about his religion? I can't blame you for writing that Yoruba is a religion, wikipedia says it is, and we all know that wikipedia is a reputable source on everything. Yeah, when I wrote essays in uni, I used to cite wikipedia as a bloody reference. But why on earth would you suggest that it was the Yoruba religion that led him to his death? Was he not suffering from depression? Are you suggesting that the religion made him depressed?

After you suggested that he died because he applied the Yoruba "principle" of 'iku ya j'esin' which means "death is preferable to ignominy, you quoted the Yoruba culture icon and Chief priest of Osogbo, Araba Ifayemi Osundagbonu Elebuibon, who said that the religion does "not support suicide. Their belief is that if somebody commits suicide, they will be punished in the hereafter." You continued to talk about his practice of the religion, thereby implying that the authority on the Yoruba religion didn't know what the hell he was talking about. 

 Then you wrote that before he died, the poor man visited a small village in Africa. This is undoubtedly the most annoying thing about the entire article. Do you know that Africa is a continent? If the African village has no name and no location then it isn't worth mentioning at all. So you mean to tell me that he flew to Africa, and then found his way to a small African village somewhere on the 30.2 million kilometres squared that the continent covers? Well done! Epic job! You deserve a raise! You should be blessed by the pope for your good work! It's just too good to be true. In the same vein when people ask me where I live I tell them I live in a city on Earth, and they thank me for being so forthcoming. Tell us what village he went to or sit down and shut up. If you cannot find the the details needed for a meaningful story then it is not worth reporting. 

 If he was depressed, then it's likely that he was clinically diagnosed. Do your job and find out what anti depressants he was on, who his therapist was, and who he spoke to about it. 

 Happy Days,
Afam. 
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Where in the world is Demi Lovato because Africa isn't a country part 2 (Updated: because she's in Kenya)

10:32:00
In the first part of this series (Where in the world is Demi Lovato (Because Africa isn't a country?) I asked that Demi, tell us where exactly in Africa she was because saying that you're in Africa, the second largest continent in the world, is a little bit like saying that you're on Earth. It's rather meaningless, as there are 54 very different countries on it. In my opinion it's only permissible the first time you say it. You can say, "OH MY GOD! GUYS! I'm in AFRICA y'all!" but, you can't say you're in Africa 3 times in a row, and then post a video of Africans singing in an indigenous African language, because, you haven't said anything worth saying. Of course, the Africans singing in their indigenous language is a little bit of a clue, but it flies over my head as there are probably over 3,000 languages in Africa, and I'm no language specialist. If you're a specialist in African languages, then you are welcome to it.

For the sceptics out there, if I said, "I'm in North America" on Monday, and then I said, "Oh My God! North America is awesome" on Tuesday, and then I said, "I'm having the best damn birthday in North America" on Wednesday, wouldn't you think I was a muppet? You'd probably assume that I was off my meds or something.
That's tweet number three about Demi being in Africa. She posted it alongside the picture below:

Are you sure you're in Africa? You look like you're in your backyard on a sunny day being silly. Well I guess that's the problem with Africa  most of the time it won't look like you've imagined it. There are safaris but I don't know that many of us are that interested in them. When the same lion has been stealing your goats for a year, it shifts from being an exotic African beast to being a bloody pest. Having said all that, she does look fairly good looking in this shot so she's forgiven. I'll forgive a pretty girl anything. 
After that tweet came this one

There's a keek video attached to it:



Well, thanks for that Demi. I'm really happy that they appear to be wishing you a happy birthday. I'm wishing you a happy birthday too, but I'd really like to know where in Africa you are because it's getting a little bit ridiculous now.

Happy Days,
Afam

I've just learned that Demi's in Kenya on a Me to We volunteer trip. She's helping build a Free the Child school. Of course you must see that my problem with Demi's tweets isn't that I didn't know where Demi Lovato was, or that she didn't know where she was. It was that she repeatedly referred to one country as Africa, and that is abysmal. It's a sensitive issue with me. Africa is too vast, and too diverse, for any bit of it to be referred to as the whole of it. And my sensitivity is not unfounded. After all, living in Nigeria, and being aware of the tension that exists between the North and the South serves as a constant reminder of the results of the last time our individualities were disregarded for convenience. So I will not sit down, and keep quiet, when Demi Lovato tells her 17 million followers that she's in Africa. 
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Where in the world is Demi Lovato, because Africa isn't a country.

19:37:00
Reblogged from http://voixmagazine.tumblr.com/

It is about time that the conversation about Africa changed. The conversation has been so ill informed that an unbelievable number of people still present Africa as one country, and not a continent with 54 countries.
On the 14th of August, Demi Lovato, the ex-Disney Princess and current American pop sensation tweeted this:

Now, I imagine she meant well, but could she not tell us where in Africa she was going? And if not that could she at the very least not have added a building or a person to her collection of frogs, caterpillars, cattle, monkeys, snakes, elephants, tigers and the sun? From her tweet, one can easily infer that she expected to be shown a sprawling savannah with an amazing outcrop of rocks where Rafiki was in the process of officiating Simba’s naming ceremony. I’m sure she was extremely disappointed when she found that not only did the animals not hold a party for her arrival, but that there couldn’t possibly have been any tigers in attendance because there aren’t any tigers that are indigenous to Africa. 
And what of after she hopped in the plane and flew to “Africa”. Surely she’d know where exactly in Africa she was as she’d have looked at her visa because believe it or not there are no “African” visas but no, she didn’t, so she still doesn’t know where in Africa she is. And no, I’m not making this up. Why else would she tweet this?
If Demi, a rather wealthy, reasonably well travelled 21 year old American is so ignorant, then what hope is there for the rest of them? I can hear the excuses forming in your heads. You think I’m reading too much into it don’t you? But wouldn’t you think it odd if I landed in Paris and said “Am I seriously in Europe right now?” 
As the lifestyle and health editor of Voix, I will attempt to change the conversation or at least contribute to it. Contrary to public opinion, or at least the opinion expressed here, there are buildings and people in Africa. When I say people I don’t mean wildlings roaming about in loincloths, I mean people doing things that people do everywhere else. I can’t speak for the whole of Africa (because it’s not a country), but I can speak for Nigeria (one of the countries in Africa), and I didn’t spend Friday night running away from an imaginary tiger. I went to a nightclub. It’s a decent nightclub as far as nightclubs go. And please don’t imagine that it was in a hut, and that we made music with animal skin drums, and bamboo sticks.
 So Demi the next time you tweet, please let us know where the devil you are.

Happy Days,
Afam
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Life According to Captain Reginald: Afam's back (the dog days are over)

10:05:00
My father, master and my everything, Afam (may he live forever) has once again provided me with the honour of blogging on his behalf. the honour is a great one indeed as it is one that he has yet to bestow on any animal or man in all the seven planes. And make no mistake, there are seven planes which is why I take my role as principal defender of the Afam household and compound so seriously. If I wasn't here, I'm sure Afam (may he live forever) would have been seduced by a dog hating witch, and I can't have that. I, the highly esteemed and infinitely handsome Captain Reginald will defend his body and heart with my life, and in my opinion, there is no better way to ensure the protection of his fragile, rabbit heart, than to be its sole occupier.

That's me. Is my form not remarkable? Do I not prance like a show pony? Show me a beast that is more handsome than me in all the world. You can't! For there is none. 
I'm extremely sorry that I haven't told you anything of the going ons in the Afam household for the longest time, but you'll forgive me because I am handsome.

My life hasn't been great to be honest. My kennel is in disrepair, and I have been stripped of all daylight wandering privileges. Now that Afam is here, I'm sure that all of that will be rectified but life's been ghastly and none of it was my fault I swear. It all started when the electrician came over. I'm very particular about my territory so when I saw the lout stroll in without even taking the care to ring the blooming bell, I lost my shit. Yes, I literally went to the garden to deposit a reasonably sized poo in my poo corner of the garden. After my poo, I knew exactly what to do. I hid myself in the hedges and when the very very rude electrician was leaving I reminded him that no man or beast may enter the premises without first asking me for permission. I nipped at his ankles as he fled from the premises. I was very proud of myself until Papa Afam returned.

When Papa Afam returned, my pedigree instinct told me that the oga at the top of my own oga at the top was seriously considering putting me down. I made myself scarce, for I, Captain Reginald, am too young to die. How can I die when Afam has not yet produced a bastard? How can I die when I haven't fathered a litter of handsome pedigree puppies? While Papa Afam didn't do me in, he did strip me of all the treats that I was due. There were no more strips of bacon, peppered meat, and peppered chicken. I was strictly on a diet of dog biscuits and water. One day, as I was moping in the corner somewhere, I heard a few chickens clucking. The craving was too great. I couldn't possibly resist. I snuck out later that night and devoured the whole lot of them. And that's when I was stripped of all daylight privileges.

Anyway the dog days are over for just the other day, Afam the merciful (may he live forever) took me and the other dog, Sabrina, out to the beach. It's an unbelievably filthy beach but as I hadn't seen the sun in far too long I was happy.

How happy I look. Like I said earlier, the beach is unbelievably filthy but I didn't mind. 

That's Afam. I really wish he would wear more clothing. I fear that he's a nudist at heart but that can't be helped, or if it can I do not know how to help it. He's wearing a gender bending tunic from Zara and Adidas running shorts. I don't know where he found the confidence to strut like that, but I want whatever he's on.

My vanity knows no bounds.
That's Afam again. He was doing some sort of cultural dance.
I guess the point of this is that fun is subjective. For some people it's driving down to the pretty naff beach about five minutes away from where they live and running amok. I went to the beach with Afam and the other dog, Sabrina, and it was pretty decent. We didn't do much, and we weren't there for very long but that was okay. It was it's own special sort of nice.


And that's all I'm prepared to tell you.

Tata For Now,
Captain Reginald


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Take Banana (The not so true story about the Goody Bag Video starring D'Prince)

22:03:00
I first heard of the man and character called D'Prince when I was 20 years old. It is true when they say that the price of wisdom is youth, for I was very young then and remarkably foolish. I look forward to losing some of my foolery as I age, because I am only 23 and I already feel infinitely wiser than I was when I was 20. When I am 26, I suspect that I shall be so wise that I shall rule the world, or own a country, or something along those lines. Even in my absolute foolery I was quick to realise that the song that made him famous, Jonzing World, was a scourge on the planet. You must realise that I only ever heard the song in it's entirety when I was completely consumed by drunkenness. You mustn't assume that I was always drunk, for while that is certainly an attractive prospect, alcohol poisoning is no party. But even my drunkenness wasn't enough to stop me from hating it. I do not think I have ever heard it without trying to incinerate the sound system with my mind. It hasn't worked so far, but I'm sure that it will soon. Keep your fingers crossed, will you?

It should come as no surprise to anyone that I spent the Christmas holidays with the Afam household in Nigeria. During the holidays, I was made aware that D'Prince had released another song, a better song, called Goody bag. A little over a month ago, I had the distinct pleasure of watching the video. It really is the most spectacular thing. It confirmed my hypothesis that African innuendos are not intended to be well thought out statements that fly over the heads of the daft and unfamiliar. They're meant to be shots to the head, or slaps to the face, or punches in the gut. This new song does a splendid job of this. Its highlight is when D'Prince insists that you want his goody bag. And you need not wait 15 seconds before he tells you that a banana is hiding inside his goody bag.



Because the internet situation in Nigeria is truly dire, and several of my readers are Nigerian, I Afam the infinitely kind, have taken it upon myself to give an entertaining but not entirely factual account of the going ons in the video.


One day this rather handsome man, with spectacular nostrils, conversed with his signet ring while gesticulating wildly. The conversation went something like this.

Enter D'Prince and the Signet Ring.

 Signet Ring: Old chap, I'm growing increasingly bored of sitting on your finger.

D'Prince: Really? But how could you possibly grow bored of sitting on my finger. It's a very finely formed finger, if I do say so myself.

Signet Ring: It is. But I think it would be more fun if we had a beauty competition of sorts and gave goody bags to the winners.

D'Prince: I can't think of any reasons why we shouldn't. Let's call the gurrrs.

Signet Ring: I want all kinds of gurrs. Normal video hoes won't do. I want every type of black hoe on the planet.

And so it was that the wishes of the Signet ring and D'Prince were carried out almost instantaneously, for the signet ring wasn't any old ring. No, it was a magical ring; a finger wizard. 



The girls stood in line for ages. But it is only natural that they would, for they were there to see D'Prince. I do not recall that D'Prince has ever performed anything on time. But he mustn't be blamed because he is Nigerian. The vast majority of Nigerians in the entertainment sector seem to be waging a war against time and punctuality, but this strikes me as an infinitely stupid enterprise, for to waste time, is to kill time, and to kill time is to endure being silently killed by time.



But you mustn't feel sorry for them because they came prepared. I mean, what else can you call it when someone's standing in line with an entire manicure set?


Back to D'Prince and the Signet Ring

 Signet Ring: Now that they're all here, we need to decide how we'll distribute the goody bags.

D'Prince: Right! I can't possibly give goody bags to everyone, that'll be exhausting!

Signet Ring: Yeah! didn't you hear about that guy that died after five women raped him?

D'Prince: But that guy was a wimp,  I'm D'Prince! I've got goody bags for all the women in attendance.

Signet Ring: Even if you aren't picky, I am. You must summon a panel of male judges to share the burden.

D'Prince: But there'll be less for me!!

Signet Ring: Quality over quantity you lout!



 D'Prince: I've chosen the judges, but I have no idea what I should do next.

Signet Ring: You are beyond redemption. You have to choose what goes into the goody bag!!

D'Prince: So what do I put in my goody bag?

Signet Ring: Every goody bag requires at least one very big banana, but let's put three in.


D'Prince: But I only have one banana, isn't that false advertising?

Signet Ring: It's your job to sell the fantasy!

D'Prince: Really? But who fantasises about having three bananas? I don't think I'm about that life.

Signet Ring: Shut up! Next you must put money in the goody bag. And when I say money, I don't mean Naira, only dollars will do.


D'prince: But why should I give my hard earned cash to the gurrs?

Signet Ring: Anyone who knows anything at all knows that Nigerian gurrs are far more inspired by dollars than they are by bananas. Even if your banana was the king of all bananas - and it isn't, without dollars you won't get no satisfaction.

D'Prince: Okay. But how shall we choose who gets the goody bags?

Signet Ring: We'll ask them to identify their selling points.

D'Prince: How do you mean?

Signet Ring: Well your selling point is that you're a fresh boy with more money than sense.

D'Prince: I beg your pardon?

Signet Ring: Wasn't it you that bought an Aston Martin and a Rolls Royce? I cannot believe that you sentenced such fines examples of engineering to such tortured existences.




D'Prince: I'm offended!

Signet Ring: Don't be. It isn't a bad thing to have more money than sense. I'm fairly sure it's the dream of many a poor boy.

D'Prince: Oh Right. That's good then. Let's begin.

Signet Ring: Shut up! We need seksy dancers before we start.

D'Prince: I'm not sure I follow, won't we already be looking at gurrs from planet gurr all day?

Signet Ring: But what if the babes we end up looking at are gurrs from planet UGG? We'll need the visual equivalent of coffee beans for our eyes.

D'Prince: Now I'm lost. Where did coffee come in?

Signet Ring: When you're buying perfume and you've smelled so many brands that you cannot tell the difference between your farts and the perfume, they give you coffee beans to clear your nose.

D'Prince: That's such an important discovery, especially as I fart incessantly. You're too good to me Siggy baba.

Enter the Dancer Gurrs

Signet Ring: Aren't they sexually sexual, and deliciously sumptuous?

D'Prince: Yes... But the one on the right is sleeping.

Signet Ring: What does that have to do with anything? There isn't anything that she can do awake that she can't do while she's sleeping. *wink* *wink*

D'Prince: You're terrible!

Signet Ring: I know. Look at them from behind!


D'Prince:


Now that's what I call speechless. I imagine that he looked like that for days, for that's what happens when men find themselves engrossed in bottoms. 

After an impossibly long period of time, he regained his wits and began the competition in earnest. There was a police woman (aka woman police)

and a chef.
 There was even a student.


and a fighter

and marketers (I mean anyway you look at it, she's got to be selling something)

and Doctors

And Business women

She was so keen to sample the banana that she tried to pay for the privilege. This solicited a reaction from the judging panel. 

(Enter D'Prince, the signet ring, and the judges)



Signet Ring: I can't believe she just tried to pay for the goody bag.

D'Prince: Yeah! I've already got more money than sense, I don't need anymore.

Judge 1: (Masks his despair with laughter and smiles and thinks, "But I'd jump on that opportunity anytime! I've been looking for a sidehustle for some time now, why can't a sugar mummy be my side hustle?)




Judge 1: To hell with it guys, I'm going in.


There was a mad woman

A witchy woman, 


 She scared the hell out of D'Prince and his boys,

At the end of the day, a winner was chosen for each of our four characters. 

Judge 1 and Judge 2 joined the party early, 
D'Prince needed some more time to get ready.


While he was getting ready, a great crinkum crankum ensued over who would get what goody bag. Some of the girls who'd been sent home returned because they couldn't possibly bear to be without the banana.


At the end of the day the fight for the goodbag was too great for anyone to derive any sort of satisfaction from the entire endeavour. 

And that my friends, famzers and foes is how D'Prince stayed up all night to get lucky and didn't enjoy it. 

 Happy Days,
Afam
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Some Notes on Driving (1004 is really ugly)

18:45:00
I find it slightly ironic that Nigeria, one of the nations least enamoured with psychiatry and all other forms of mental therapy is probably filled with people who are more in need of it than any other. I’ve only been back for a month and I already question my sanity. Of course my sanity has always been dubious, but being in Nigeria certainly hasn’t helped. Every time I drive past 1004 (THE UGLIEST BUILDING COMPLEX IN ALL THE WORLD) and I have to blast my horns to prevent the oaf driving a prado from pushing me into the fence, and possibly killing me, I wonder what the heck our problem is. And we must have one, a rather tremendous one too.

That's 1004. It's in a very very very good area. The land it sits on is worth millions of dollars, but anyway you look at it, that thing is a COUNCIL ESTATE. 

I’ve finally figured out the Nigerian Highway code, and it isn’t one that can be found in any document. Before I say what it is, I’ll back track a little. There’s some setting of the scene to be done. All drivers abide by the principle of ‘Right of Way’. The ‘Right of Way’ does what it says, it determines who has the right of way in any and every situation. It determines, who should wait, and who should go, and who’s liable when you’re rear ended by a car that was rear ended by another. Typically it’s made up of rules like, give way to the man on the left, or give way to the fellow that’s already on the roundabout, but not so in Nigeria. In Nigeria, or at least Lagos, we all have right of way. Yes, every son of a gun, mother of a brother, and father of a sister, has full rights to use whatever stretch of road he finds himself on whenever he finds himself on it. Why else would someone burst unto the roundabout at 70 miles an hour? He or she must assume that upon seeing or perceiving his royal visage all other users of the roundabout will be completely arrested by lust or love or the ever irritating irritable bowel syndrome! Unfortunately this usually isn’t the case. It is incredibly likely that the speedy bagger will plough into one of the good men already on the round about, and if they’re both in a position to speak after the horrendous accident, he’ll ask, “Did you not see me coming? Why didn’t you stop?” And if the fellow that’s nearly been murdered knows anything about the Highway Code, he’ll say, “But I had Right of Way” but that won’t count for shit.


I fear that too many of us are murderers just waiting to happen.

Happy Days,
Afam


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