Living in Lagos does things to you. Even the most patient of hearts can get stirred up by the antics of inconsiderate human beings. Many Lagosians I’ve come into contact with are not keen on queuing even though it is a civil gesture designed to give some sort of order. How else would a cashier know who is next to be served?
On several occasions I’ve had to literally bite my tongue to avoid hurling harsh comments at the following character profiles:
Pull up to the bumper: These kind of people don’t care that their basket, trolley or crotch keeps bumping into my innocent, unprotected behind. They reserve no apologies and they keep dry humping you until you’ve gotten off the queue. Grace Jones can relate.
One Two Step and Slide: These clowns see you in the queue and rather than go to the back of it they just pretend to be oblivious, stand by your side and slide into you like a DM. There’s nothing clever about this behaviour yet it appears to be common with impatient folk in these parts. Big Shaq probably gets me.
Other Side of the World: What makes these people the most annoying is that they impact everyone in the queue – not just me. They come from the opposite end of the queue and start their own queue because the rest of us have zero sense of direction and chose to buy time not groceries. Everyone gives them the look of death and beckon on the sales attendant to ignore them (or else). KT Tunstall knows what I’m talking about.
If you ever find yourself in a queuing situation anywhere in the world please exercise patience and stay in line till it gets to your turn. Doing otherwise is just a cheap way of telling everyone else you’re a complete asshole.
…and if I didn’t manage to communicate then hopefully you’ve gotten some good soundbites out of this 🙂
As a little child growing up in London I got excited whenever I saw Tony the Tiger on TV promoting the addictive, mouth-watering Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes. The cartoon mascot was legendary – moving was such agility, strength and athletic precision when spinning that blue and white striped cereal bowl on his paw index without spilling a drop of milk. I couldn’t get enough of those ads and they worked like a charm on me – I needed my Kellogg’s fix. My mum didn’t disappoint – she took me through Frosted Flakes, Corn Flakes and Rice Krispies.
I 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.
I 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.
The first time I heard of 
