Microphone stand and wooden stool under a spotlight on a stage



 *Wizkid’s Joy playing in the background*


In the early mid-nineties, that was the beginning.

Mama had me, she was definitely screaming.

I was her first child and cervix was expanding.

The strain on her hips caused blinding pain.

Doctor says, “One last push. I can see the head.”

She summoned courage, grits her teeth and winces

One last surge and my cries were heard.

“Congrats, it’s a boy” and hands me to her.

One look at my face brought tears to her eyes.

She smiles finally and I guess all she felt was:


Joy!!! Nothing but joy!!!

All that she felt was nothing but joy

I was going to be blessing.

A pilot or a lawyer or an engineer maybe.

Joy!!! Nothing but joy!!!

All that she felt was nothing but joy

I was the first grandson

The one with all the responsibilities

Soon I’ll be washing plates.

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“Well, I pray when I’m dead and the ages shall roll that my body will blacken and turn into coal”


So during one of my numerous casual strolls, I ran into an old friend from high school. It was a slightly hot afternoon and she had on shades and an umbrella. I had seen her coming from afar and barely recognised her. I was busy wondering who this lovely light-skinned girl was and anticipated walking by her. I cannot begin to explain how shocked I was when I realised who she was. I was tongue-tied and only managed to say hi and after an exchange of pleasantries, I quickly ran off before she could notice my weird facial expression. Now when I knew this girl back in high school, she was very dark in complexion. It was an inexplicable magic that she was somehow now light-skinned. People grow darker with time so what form of voodoo had turn her almost white? Then, it occurred to me, she must have bleached her skin. It turns out this was not my first rodeo with a bleached skin.

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Well, for the life of me, I cannot even begin to explain how it got to this point. Just a couple of unfortunate events got me relying on phone sex to spice up my relationship. Call me unimaginative and backward but I feel phone sex is the most awful way to spice up a relationship. It is like sex without the real person. In fact, it’s even worse than that. It’s more like listening to audio porn, or in my case, really awful audio porn. And trust me, I didn’t come up with this idea on my own. No, this had the devil’s hands spattered all over it. The crevices of my brain were not built to harbour such thoughts. I try to be romantic sometimes but this just crossed the line of ridiculous on a bullet train and still went on far ahead. I tried it once and never again!!!

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It has often been said that the most inspired blog posts come from pain or anger. Well, this one is truly inspired and it comes from blinding rage. Now, my anger is in two parts; the first is directed at Arsené Wenger and Arsenal FC and the second part is directed at myself for clinging back to Arsenal after glimpsing a trophy, the first in 9 painful years. It is a pity it had to take me a defeat at the hands of our, sorry, their eternal foes to see the picture clearly but thankfully, the scales have finally dropped from my eyes and can see clearly. The constant humiliation against Manchester United has seemed everlasting for many years past and this one was proving to be no different.

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Gawd!!! My friends can argue like crazy. Now, I start this off with a tone of frustration because I am tired and fed up with all the goddamn arguments. For weeks now, I have been living with a couple of friends who love to argue for fun. It’s no longer just ordinary; they argue over everything. No single day passes without an argument; hell, we have like 2-3 arguments per day on a regular basis. And they rarely repeat arguments so they basically argue over every single topic. Nothing is spared; from the number of mountains in Nigeria to the amount of breath you take in when you breathe to the need to spend more on quality. Once it’s a topic, bring it on, we’ll definitely argue about it. The funny thing is that there is no bad blood in these arguments. Sure, tempers might have flared at some point in time but it is rarely serious and dies down as fast as it came up. We have realized we basically argue for street cred and to kill boredom so there is no need to take things to personal.

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So I have been pretty mum about the whole World Cup event which is taking place in Brazil at the moment. Matches have been played up to the semi-final stage, upsets have been seen, heroes made, flops and props, extraordinary goals and future stars have been born. It has been an event worth the four-year wait. Now, I’m going to be focusing on one of the most shocking events of this World Cup. The World Cup has always brought shocker right from time and this one was not going to be any different. The first was shocking exit of the Spanish team after the mauling handed to them by the Dutch team and their loss to the hardworking Chileans, next was the shocking 4 – nil trashing of the Portuguese team by the Germans, Thomas Müller getting the first hattrick of the tournament and then, the ungraceful exit of the Italians after a beautiful against the English national team. Every other thing went according to book and the only other surprising event was the advancement of the Costa Rican team to the quarterfinals of the tournament. Fast-forward to the penultimate matches before the next shocker; Germany versus France and Brazil against Colombia. Continue reading


After a long week of being uncomfortable and stressed out, I am finally done with the school issues and at home to rest and relax. Ahh… Home atmosphere truly does me good; not so much stress, free food and that’s all I ask. So yesterday, while I was relaxing on my bed and scrolling through twitter, I stumbled across a picture which shook me out of my relaxation state and jolted the esteem which I once for a sort of icon I had come to like. I saw a picture of Phyno (nwannem nwoke and probably the best Igbo rapper right now) with lips nestled so close to another dude’s lips that it became uncomfortable to look at. I refuse to call that a kiss because it would scar me forever that someone I had come to respect was associated with something I extremely hate. At this point, I would have reached an impasse where a compromise would have to be made which would entail me dissociating myself from anything Phyno. My nigga had better clear the air about that picture and as for them homos (especially the male ones), I think I should say something.
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Fast forward to matchday, to the Santiago Bernabeu stadium, kick-off time, both teams were raring and ready to go. It looked very dicy, nobody could make any real predictions, just guesses. For the first few minutes, Bayern enraptured the whole stadium with the beauty of their football, giving and distributing passes with such speed and accuracy. They passed and passed and they would make the occasional attempt to shoot but it really was not proving but much, they needed to take their chances or else, it would come back and bite them in the ass.

The first Madrid counter was a warning of things to come and Bayern refused to pay heed, going on with their “beautiful” style of football and playing the ball in Madrid’s half of the pitch, it became too boring. Their style became too predictable, Carvajal was having a field day stopping Ribery and Alaba, Modric  took the midfield from Tony Kroos and Madrid, kept defending, all the while, brewing their deadly potion. The second counter attack was all it took to kill the first leg off. A beautiful set of touches brought the ball to the feet of Ronaldo and after a feat of brilliance, he dished the ball to fellow countryman, Coentrao who raced to the edge of the 18 yard box and square-played the ball to beat all the defenders and fall to the legs of Benzema for the perfect tap-in. Bayern resumed their normal gameplay (the clueless bastards) as usual and played out lacklustre football while Madrid showed brilliance in soaking up the pressure and dishing out a beautiful form of counterattacks that were pure eye-candy to behold. I left after the first half, knowing that this Bayern team posed no threat and if any goal was to come, it was going to be Madrid’s. At the end of the match, I was a bit surprised to hear that Madrid did not take full advantage to add a few more goals. They deserved more than just one but alas, that was just the first leg, I was waiting to see what surprises Bayern were looking to spring up during the second leg.

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