Infringing on Banana Rights

bananaI want to make an appeal to Nigerian artists who insist on using the derogative association of the male genitalia with the innocent, beautiful, healthy fruit – the Banana in their lyrics. The fruit is already awkward enough with its suggestive shape and length. What pains me is the fact that children sing the catchy, banana-filled songs which invade our radiowaves, cable tv and consequently, our eardrums. Nobody is safe.

A banana should only be going into one place – the digestive system. It should not be ‘falling’ on anybody. I shouldn’t have to worry about a child coming up to ask, ‘Uncle Tonwa, what does banana fall on you mean?’ How am I supposed to answer that question folks?

In recent times, cassavas haven’t had a smooth ride either. Food for thought.

What I did after a Traffic Warden seized my Driver’s Licence (Pt.2)

traffic wardenI have to admit – I didn’t have a plan when I sped off and left the traffic warden eating my dust (and pocketing my driver’s licence too). I was close to my parent’s house so I drove in and parked my car there. At least the car would be safe from impounding, I thought. But that didn’t stop me from looking at my rear view mirror every five seconds for a police bike on my tail. I met only my sister at home and broke the news (okay, that sounded kinda dramatic – to break news usually sounds like one is about to announce something tragic. I digress). My lil’ sister was in shock to say the least, like she had seen a ghost that was equally shocked that I had driven off without my licence. My explanation still left my sister’s jaw on the floor. She went straight into DLR (Driver’s Licence Retrieval) mode and ran some suggestions by me.

After deliberating for a couple of minutes I even went further to call a friend whom I thought would be able to advise me on what to do, based on his own experiences. He told me to prepare to give ‘something small’. We were ready to put the plan into action. We set out in my car but parked it in a corner about 300 meters away from the traffic warden’s spot. We strolled down towards the junction where the incident happened and then I told my sister to wait behind while I approached the traffic warden who was in the midst of a policeman and some LASTMA officials (the boys in black yellow). I caught his attention and he came over to deafen me with his broken English (insert action film music here).

‘Why you run na?’ he said with a smirk in his sweaty face.

‘I don’t want to argue. I just want my licence.’

‘No problem. I have already taken it to the station. You can collect it there.’, and he turned away with his nose up in the air.

‘What?’, I couldn’t contain my annoyance.

‘But oga, you suppose bring sumtin.’

‘Bring what? Look, you don’t want to me drag this matter’. I flashed a special ID card to him at this point. ‘I’ll go to the station and collect my licence’. I started to walk away and then he called me.

‘Oga wait. Make we go one side’. We walked a few meters away from his colleagues and got to way my sister was waiting. My sister greeted him and he reciprocated. They exchanged a few ‘pleasantries’ while I frowned (but they didn’t seem to take notice). The traffic warden insisted again that I should bring something (just like my friend said earlier) and that he would get my driver’s licence back for me. With about an hour of my life already wasted I just decided to part with N1,000 (less than $3) and to my surprise he pulled out my driver’s licence! To think that he lied and never actually went to drop it at the station in the first place. And worse still he asked for a bribe which I was forced to heed in order to get my licence….aaaargh! But the ID card sure got him rattled.

My sister and I walked back to my car and drove back home to gist about the whole ordeal. After that incident no one had to tell me to make a photocopy of my licence – that’s what I’ll be offering any official that accosts me on the road. At least that way I can drive off without ever looking back:)

What I did after a Traffic Warden seized my Driver’s Licence

traffic wardenWhen I was learning to drive in my late teens, the ‘qualified’ driving instructor advised that while driving I must assume that everyone else is drunk. Why? The logic was that if they were actually drunk then they wouldn’t drive properly. This would mean that they could run into me so I would have to be extra alert and preempt unforeseen accidents or close shaves. Unfortunately these words of wisdom didn’t pay off when I (allegedly) beat a non-existent traffic light and got stopped by a drunk traffic warden.

The uniformed clown had actually beckoned the vehicle right in front of me to drive forward so I tailed it closely. Obviously I wasn’t close enough else I would have smashed the warden’s legs. I said to him, ‘But you told me to come’. However he denied it and said he told me to stop. He looked at me in shock when I started raising my voice and so he directed me to ‘park well’ (away from oncoming traffic). He came to the front passenger window and started to engage me in shit-chat (no typo) which I’ve heard all before. It started with, ‘Let me see your driver’s licence!’ Then after I handed it over and he pretended to understand what he was examining, the next thing he said was, ‘Open your door.’

‘What the hell for?’ I retorted.

‘Look here, if you don’t want me to take your car to the station then open your door now’

I turned away from him and stared intently at my two hands firmly placed on the steering wheel, like a racer waiting for the starting pistol to be fired. I weighed my options: He gets in. We drive to the station. My car gets clamped. I pay a heavy fine and bank account bleeds. Total time wasted = 45mins to 1 hour.

I decided to go for my next option – I sped off and let the traffic warden choke on my dust! No money lost. Car is safe. Total time wasted = 3 mins. But as I let the adrenaline wear off it suddenly dawned on me that my driver’s licence was still in that traffic warden’s hand! not a photocopy…MY ORIGINAL DRIVER’S LICENCE – DAMN IT!!! (To be continued)

All agitating Biafrans should take a minute to read this…

 

188. RFK: On the mindless menace of violence

Let He Who Is Without OCD Cast The First Stone

OCD Bothers meThe first time I heard of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder (OCD) was when I was watching an episode of The Oprah Winfrey Show. The fact that I must do certain things a certain way just to keep my sanity doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with me. I got the shock of my life when I started to hear about weird habits and mannerisms which I was all too familiar with. For instance, at a time my folks had this linoleum flooring in the kitchen which had a pattern of unstructured rectangles. Little did I realize that I had made a subconscious decision to put my foot in each rectangle while walking into the kitchen without letting my soles touch the edges. If that wasn’t bad enough I eventually mastered my walk-in pattern such that I didn’t have to even look down at the rectangles – I always placed my feet in the ‘right’ place….ALWAYS.

If you left something spillable or breakable at the edge of a table or other elevated surface, and you tried to engage me in some conversation, then you could be rest assured that I wasn’t paying attention to you (not even 5%). Allow me to do the Math:

Analysis of What I’m thinking about during OCD Moment

  • 2% – Whatever the person is saying
  • 3% – Okay, I’m beginning to lose interest now
  • 97% – Why is that hot cup of coffee placed on the edge of that table? There’s so much real estate on that table doing nothing. That cup better not fall. Someone will accidentally knock it over. Why can’t anyone see what I’m seeing??? I can’t ignore it. It’s a disaster waiting to happen. I’ll go and push it closer to the centre of the table as soon as this guy stops talking…(two quick twitches later) f@#% it!!! This can’t wait!

In the end, the hot coffee wins (again). I think I’ve given in to my OCD more times than OJ Simpson has put on an orange jumpsuit. I can also tell you for a fact that in my office I’m known to some as a neat-freak. My table and drawers are so organized that you’d think I was trained by the military.

Here’s a summary of some popular cases from HelpguideOCD types

Newsflash: I’m not any of those…I mean…so what if I carry hand sanitizers in my drawer…and in my car…and a sanitizer dispenser at home. And it isn’t a big deal if I can’t drive behind any car with ‘666’ as it’s licence plate number – these have to be valid exceptions for not being classified as a ‘level 10’ OCD sufferer. I triple my check if my cooker is off after I’ve used it because a long time ago I almost burnt my apartment down to the ground. Ok, I’m obsessively giving excuses for my OCD.

Why don’t you tell me about your OCD experiences, habits and what have you. I won’t judge…I may just subconsciously adopt them (God help me).

thecrazynigerian.com is dead

Dear fans, spammers, followers and critics, it is with a deep sense of regret that I hereby announce the sudden and untimely death of www.thecrazynigerian.com due to my forgetfulness negligence. I was meant to renew my domain subscription sometime late last year and despite several reminders from WordPress I never followed up. It’s in no way a valid excuse (after all, nobody has to remind me to eat breakfast, lunch, dinner and all the junk food in between). In the blogging community my actions should constitute a punishable offence because I’ve successfully managed to confuse my followers who may have wondered why my website is suddenly displaying this:

thecrazynigerian.com

Luckily enough the clown, who used to own ‘www.crazynigerian.com’ and was charging me hundreds of thousands of Naira to purchase it, obviously must have been negligent too. The moment the site name became available I scooped it up quicker than a Nigerian Street sweeper backing high-speed traffic on Third Mainland Bridge. So for the avoidance of doubt, my new site name and blog address is www.crazynigerian.com 

In other news, I’ve been keeping myself busy whilst my former blog got shut down. Here’s a few snapshots of things I’ve been up to:

crazynigerian teescrazynigerian at classicfm

crazynigerian at book festival

crazynigerian at book festival 2

Well there you have it – my past few months in pictures. The sequel, The Crazy Nigerian Returns is currently in production and promises to live up to readers’ expectations. Here’s a toast to the new blog address and to more funny/crazy articles like before. Bye bye thecrazynigerian.com, hello crazynigerian.com!

Teaser: Taken from the series, Think Like A Man, End up Without One by @Livelytwist with my little contribution…

Let’s just get right down to the critical issue here, thinking. Men think. Women think too much, quote me on that. It’s not a bad thing until a man has had a single thought and moved on, and a woman is still having several thoughts about his single thought, long after.

Take for instance the following scenario. A young man and his girlfriend are enjoying a hearty meal and each other’s company at a fast food restaurant, when a stunning woman walks past. The man may think one of two things: what she’ll look like naked or what she’ll be like in bed. His girlfriend on the other hand may think many things including several variations of what her man was thinking about some seconds ago.

Paranoia could follow her dangerous thought process. His eyes lingered a little too longHe must like herHe said he likes women with assets and hers are bigger. Meanwhile the man has resumed munching his burger. His girlfriend on the other hand, has moved from paranoia to “casual” interrogation—“She’s very attractive isn’t she?” Wise men know this is a trap and the correct answer for peace to reign is, “I only have eyes for you, dear.” But if he loves you, why worry?

When it comes to love, less brain, more heart, or else a woman may just chase that man away. Men dislike wahala jo! – @dcrazynigerian

Not Suit-able for the Crazy Nigerian

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Patience isn’t one of my strong suits but I’ve been forced in recent times to take a crash course from none other than my last tailor fashion designer. Once upon a time (time time) my fashion designer came by recommendation. I … Continue reading

5 Easy Ways To Remain Sane in Nigeria

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Avoid Nigerian news like the plague This includes reading the local newspapers or listening to local news on the radio or watching local news on TV. An overdose of ‘corruption’ news could impair your judgment in day-to-day activities and lead … Continue reading

The Truth behind BB Naija 2017 (Guest post)

bbnaija2017We are probably all thinking it, and I began to suspect it 10 minutes later into the show… where is this place with 12hrs 24hrs steady Nepa in this naija cause I’ll pack my bags too and head there. Of course not, I didn’t think so too, hence my research into this game began (remember, it is a game lol).

1. Who cares? I mean do people really still give a damn about this thing? There’s a reason why its been off air for 10 years and I dint hear anyone crying out. What is the purpose??? What is the vision???

2. Who wins? Again who really cares, as far as this year’s housemates (HM) they all came to ‘sell market’. According to Efe (the most popular looking HM based on live feeds) he put it so poetically and said that as long as you build your brand, then you could put out crap songs yet people would still buy. Abi, is that what “see gobbe” stands for?

3. N24m or N25m??? So big brother, which is it because on the opening night you were shouting winner takes home N25m, then one week later, the money has dropped to N24m. Please inform the housemate, before they come out, the money if the money has dropped all the way down to N1m.

4. Been there, done that, got the Tshirt. All the twists and surprises possible have been done tire, even the twists get twists haba, it don’t make sense no more. HM are failed to be surprised, just check out last week’s “fake eviction” and the look on their faces, orlack thereof of surprise when it was revealed.

5. Is it fight I came to watch??? Aparently, some naijas are not depressed enough with the current recession in the economy, they want to see people fighting for entertainment. However, big brother failed to deliver on that either, even forcing him to piss each other off. It’s not working, sorry biggie.

6. Aha! It must be relationship I’m looking for. Lets do the mathematics…7 girls and 7 boys, aged 20s to 30s, all hot by the way. Throw in some double beds, some awkward single beds and lack of adequate sleeping arrangements, alcohol and music, what do you get??

7. This is Big Junior Brother!!! Apparently, people have been speculating as to who is the voice behind biggie. Ebuka perhaps??? Highly plausible indeed.

8. Where is our President??? I mean seriously guys, we have real issues in the ‘real world’of Nigeria e.g. dollar going up, US travel ban, petrol queues, ain’t nobody got time for this.

9. Did we hire a marketing team??? I’m telling you, these housemates must be up to something cause I’ve never been more aware of the sponsors than now. I guess it’s the ‘plan b’ in case they don’t win, they can get a job with one of the sponsors.

10. Communal living: I just cant deal right now. Food sharing, bed sharing and don’t get me started on the shared toilet and bathroom. Maybe I’m getting too old for this.

(To be continued).

Post credits: Anonymous 

An MJ parody: Blood on the dance (Part 2)

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You spin her around and then you both put on an electrifying, neomodern salsa-type of performance.The uproar from the crowd is unprecedented. You catch a glimpse of some beautiful ladies biting their bottom lips. Some are winking at you and pouting … Continue reading