You Never Esperedit

Shocker huh?

Let’s just say “The Sarcastic Center” isn’t dead as you might have thought. Life happened and we all seemed to get caught up in the madness, with very little time to come on here. Funny thing is, Terdoh and I still kept doing our thing on TNC. Guess it has something to do with finding it easy to deliver when you’re not directly responsible. I don’t know jare.

However, what triggered this seeming revival is the consistent visits the blog seemed to be getting even when inactive. You guys still dropped comments and stuff and this served as a conscience jerker. How could we leave without saying goodbye? Quite wrong init? Anyway, I can’t exactly promise consistency and the kind of humor you’re used to. Truth is, I’ve realized the things I find funny these days are more subtle and this has reflected in my writing -I lean more towards wit. But yeah, I’ll definitely pop in here as often as time allows me to rant about stuff, like HAVE YOU GUYS SEEN LINDA’S HOUSE?!

That might have been motivation too. LOL

It’s good to be back.

For Arsenal Fans: Letter To Wenger

images (5)

                                                                                                                                                                At Work, 9:08am

Because I’m pissed and need to let this out

Dear Monsieur Wenger,

Matter of fact, you aren’t really dear to me so we might as well scrap that.

Monsieur Wenger,

Then again, who cares about respect?


It is August. Oh you don’t know what that means? Let me say it again. IT. IS. AUGUST

*beautiful seat mate asks me to calm down, calms down*

By my calendar, the new premiership season starts in about 16 days and I’m pretty sure you know we haven’t purchased any players. Of course you do, you’re in charge or aren’t you? I mean, who really cares about the transfer window right? Like we have a complete squad that can possibly challenge for the title the way we’ve been doing for the past eight years so why are these other fans even complaining? Can’t they see how consistent you have been? They must think it’s easy ensuring the team qualifies for the Champions league year after year. Please pay them no mind. Haha! But of course, you don’t pay for anything except it’s free so you go you.

You’re such a genius.

The other day I was on twitter watching people talk about how arsenal might be serious contenders for the title this season seeing as our other competition (Man United, Chelsea and Man City) have all recently appointed new coaches. They said the fact that you’ve been around the longest means we finally get to have our hands around a title. Clearly these people are clueless, they do not know you have no such ambition to become a champion as a result of the repercussion of such an event.  If they were students of history, they would see that coaches who win titles in England get ‘sacked’ immediately after. Remember Mourinho with Chelsea,  Mancini with city and of course Sir Alex would’ve been sacked this new season but he was smarter. They don’t know you don’t want to win a title so you can keep your job.

I salute your brilliance.

Another issue making the rounds is “Who is Arsenal going to sign?” I mean, you’ve ok’d the departure of Santos, Arshavin, Mannone, Denilson, Squillaci and somewhere in the horizon, the three musketeers; Park, Chamakh and ‘The greatest of all time’ Bendtner will soon join the list. Not forgetting Rihanna’s distant cousin Gervinho. Why you get no applause for clearing the deadweight remains a mystery. I mean, the squad is slimmer that the bridge of your nose, but still you get flak for it. Are humans not just a problem? If this was a house and spring cleaning was done, isn’t it necessary that the old and useless items be done away with? I don’t get why they are complaining.

Or wait…

Could it be because it is expected that when you throw stuff out, you bring new and better stuff to replace it? Hmmm…could it be that?

Twitter said you were trying to sign Higuain. I like the way you said nothing about that situation as no one can hold you ransom for things unsaid. They said you agreed for a fee of E25m and the club wanted about E35m. Don’t they know you wanted to use the extra  E10m you would have saved to scout homeless kids in France, bring them to England, set up accommodation and all? Man, these guys don’t know about your charity ventures. It’s sad. Higuain has gone to Napoli for E35m, of course, it doesn’t matter. He’s in Italy far from us, he couldn’t possibly hurt us. Well except he comes for the emirates cup and scores against us, but that won’t hurt much. I mean *shrug*

So now, gist is we’re gunning for Suarez; That Liverpool kid famous for racist bants and blanka like behavior. I even heard we made a record bid of E40m + 1 for him. WOW! You outdid yourself this time Arsene. But why do I feel you did this because you were pretty sure they were going to turn it down? You know “Lez put in a bids workth 40 milyon and one pouend so zat oza clobs can see zat we at ze arsenal have err…ze money to compet” You brilliant scouser you! Now the media is agog and ablaze with the possibility of that dogged player joining us.

You’re a genius.

You even got the player so moved, he’s just short of requesting a transfer.  Personally, I wouldn’t mind him joining us, but if Arsenal has taught me anything, it’s “don’t expect nothing till it’s signed” I honestly hope the Suarez thing doesn’t come back to bite us in the ass. By the way, we have Giroud , I mean 17 goals in his first season! Imagine what he can achieve if he just stops thinking the pitch is a runway, Like if he quits posing for spectator photos and just focuses on the ball, maybe just maybe.  There’s also Walcott, I’m sure by now he’s realized that he’s being paid to play football not to use the length of the pitch as practice arena for his 100m race dreams.  

In midfield, we have Diaby who plays like 4 matches every season and makes sure the physios at the club work for their money the rest of the time. How brilliant Arsene, you make sure all of the club gears grind as they should. We don’t have a Defensive midfielder but why buy when Arteta does the job. He’s getting old but I mean, that means experience right? Good. Let’s not even talk about our lack of defensive options. Who needs a defense if we are attacking?

Gosh! Your smartness is too much for me, I’m not worthy.

I believe you Arsene, Our team is ready. Fuck what the haters say. This is the way Obama became president. Ok I really don’t know how that ties in but fuck that, no one knows what makes sense anymore. So yeah, It’s August. We’ve bought no one…. Neither has Manchester United. Hmmm…this must be what champions are made of.


Yours fucking faithfully


Garage Boys: Global Domination

Ssup guys?

So a friend of mine sent me this post a while back and it has been sitting in my drafts since forever. I stumbled on it again today and I thought it would be a crime not to share this with you guys.

There…the best introduction ever.

Don’t forget to comment. We live for feedback…



 *Everywhere seemed calm on a Thursday evening. The lights were turned
off, the tv set illuminated the room ’till it ceded to darkness.*

MAKO: Aaaaargh! Na NEPA?

FAJI: No, na PHCN.

MAKO: *sighs* electricity can never ever be steady in this country. It cant.

FAJI: Never say never bro.

MAKO: You just said “never” twice.

FAJI: Ooh? Since you are counting, you just said it once.

MAKO: *Switches on rechargable lamp* you dey mad? wetin dey worry you?

FAJI: No. Heat.

MAKO: Ehn? Who tell you say heat no dey?

FAJI: Na your question I dey answer. You ask if I dey mad, I say no.
Wetin dey worry me, I say heat.

MAKO: Okay.

FAJI: But na true you talk sha. Electricity can never ever be steady
like ……..W4’s career.

MAKO: Haha. Wait till the guy feature international artiste.

FAJI: Ehen. You are even aware of the silent struggle. It seems like
everybody wanna feature international acts.

MAKO: Yeah. Nowadays, Whenever a Nigerian artiste says or tweets
“Expect something big”, I can’t help but thinking they wanna try the
international route.

FAJI: Blame it all on Dbanj.

MAKO: Was Dbanj the first Nigerian artiste to make that move?

FAJI: I really can’t tell but he is the first to shoot a visual
featuring a main international act.

MAKO: And now everybody is following the trend.

FAJI: Why do I feel like Dbanj is somewhere listening to Nicki Minaj’s

MAKO: Most likely. Gimme a roster of every nigerian artiste that has
featured an international act.

FAJI: Psquare ft Akon, chop my money remix.

MAKO: Akon though. That guy’s career is going down the drain and he
still got cash to spend on some chic?

FAJI: Well. Well. Well. It is well.

MAKO: In God we trust. I think Duncan Mighty has also featured one Angelina.


MAKO: The Angelina is from India.

FAJI: *Sighs* Do you believe that?

MAKO: Well. Well. Well. It is well.

FAJI: In Duncan we trust.

MAKO: Who else?

FAJI: Errrm……. Ice did a thing with Gyptian.

MAKO: Next.

FAJI: Haha. Wizkid and Akon on Don’t Dull remix. Wizkid and Dotstar on
a cover of lil wayne’s No worries. Vector and Mavado on born winner.
Ice got sarkodie and Khuli Chana on Aboki remix, I heard he’s also
working with David Guetta.

MAKO: Sarkodie and Dotstar are nigerian as far as I’m concerned. Khuli
Chana? Forget that guy. David Guetta? I’m sleep.

FAJI: haha. Do you believe in magic? Do you believe in after death?

MAKO: No, why?

FAJI: Olu maintain featured Olivia. The ol’ Olivia from G-unit days.

MAKO: Hmmmm…. Not everybody can be Jesus man.

FAJI: And not everybody is Lazarus. On to the next, heard Samklef and
D black on Suwe remix?

MAKO: nah. I’m really waiting for a dope yankee artiste to feature a
Nigerian artiste.

FAJI: Dbanj was featured on Cruel summer album, on one “the morning”
track. Then Kardinal Offshall featured Wizkid on repping for my city.

MAKO: Dbanj’s vocals were sampled on that track, end of story. I
really like for that repping for my city jam but who’s the blower and
the blowee?

FAJI: haha. Mako you no go kill me. Bruno mars one time said he would
wanna work with Chuddy k. He said his works are beautiful.

MAKO: Chuddy k???

FAJI: We are talking about inner beauty man.

MAKO: OOH! Chuddy kay? I need to hibernate man, I dey go my house.

FAJI: ha. Na so? Bye bye.

Episode 4 (Finale)

The time has come, once again, for all super heroes to come together and have a head count. I don’t have to go into the closet anymore since I came out on the 31st, but the others do. And I can’t pass out on that amount of fun, so fuck it! Imma be in there like my daddy’s will.

Wait…I have no daddy.

Actually, I think I have two.

Anyway, I’m just going in there to watch, because everyone has a partner but me. Flash isn’t here, he’s still in the future. I wonder if he’s ever coming back. It’s been two weeks now. It’s not like it’s supposed to be a vacation or something.

The bad thing about running to the future is that it always changes when he comes back. Because he doesn’t make the same mistakes he made, and he makes better decisions. Now, as this may be good for him, it’s not exactly awesome for the rest of us that this paradox affects.

Ah fuck it, we’re all gonna die anyway.

I look at my GL Limited Edition holographic watch that I won at the Suck-A-Dick Get-A-Souvenir fair we at Green Lantern HQ had last summer, and it’s almost time for the orgy, so I rush to get into the closet before Supe seals it shut.

While the other ‘role models’ take positions and start getting their freak on, I recline on the bean chair and flip open my camcorder.

What? You really think I would let moments of super great sex like this pass me by without having memories for future generations to see? Bitch please…

With the camera on an oval slab floating in mid-air powered by my ring, I flip open the pages of Playboy (Homo Edition) and close my eyes. A steam of green smoke puffs out of my ring and a giant lubricated hand forms from the mist.

Fuck yeah…

While the pages flip through and I pause at the center-piece to marvel at the beauty within, I hear a small vibration coming from behind me. We all hear it. And everybody pauses for a minute. We’ve all heard that sound before. That’s the sound that Flash makes when he’s vibrating his body molecules so he can walk through walls whenever….


FLASH IS BACK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


The other super heroes just return about their normal business like ain’t nothing happened, but shit, I’ve missed this fast talking bitch. I try to hug him, but my erection is in the way. Then he smiles, reaches over, and I start cumming.


Cheeky bastard.

He says he wants to give me some good news, so I put on pants and walk out of the closet holding hands with him.

“I went to the future”
“I’m gay”
“I thought you were saying stuff we already knew, so I decided to join in”
“Nigga shut the fuck up and listen to me. Look, these times aren’t really great for us faggots. People haven’t accepted us the way they’re supposed to. You still get tomatoes and shit thrown at you on the street…”
I made a face.
“I didn’t mean that literally dawg. Anyway, I’m trying to say people won’t appreciate you right now. Their mindset isn’t ready for this, they are still too myopic to understand that it’s not really your fault that you like it up the ass so much.”
“Okay, so what do you suggest we do?”
“Run away with me”
“Bitch, this isn’t Titanic.”
“I’m serious. Come with me to the future. You should see the way you’re treated in 2184. You’re a freaking Super Hero!”
“I’m a freaking super hero now man!”
“Yeah, but there, you’re treated with respect. Trust me man, we’re better off there. I can even come out the closet with you”
“How do you suggest we do that? I can’t fly as fast as you can run”
“Don’t be dumb. I’ll carry you as easily as you could carry the Empire State Building in a fit of anger”
“Fine. I’ll go with you…
“But wait. Is this why you’ve not come back since forever? You’ve been having fun with me?”
“In my defense, futuristic you is very good. He taught me this thing called the Cop’s Delight. We should try it sometime”
“Yeah, whatever hoe”.

And with that, I get on his back and we ride off into the sunset.

No homo.

The End.

Shitty Business

I must say growing up was fun. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t entirely fun back then but now, when you sit back relaxed with a hot cup of molten choco milo and reflect on the past, you actually realise it was fun – sometimes, I’m even honest to myself to admit i miss it.

Whenever I’m struck with such memories, its the ones with me in nursery and primary school that get me laughing a lot. Come on, you can’t tell me you never covered your ass with ur hand, farted and used the same hand to cover ur classmates nose. Or stuck pencils on a friend’s chair and waited for ‘her’ to sit down. Or eaten your meal so early in the morning before your friends come, so you can lie to them that you forgot it at home so they can share theirs. Or…………. Should I go on?

Hey, don’t give me that look.


Other things I often remember are the things we were taught in nursery class. I’m talking about the rules we had to follow, etiquettes, we were taught to show courtesy at all times, to pray before eating, to sleep when told to, never to tell lies even if it meant us getting into trouble, to always trust our elders;

“Tobe, did you do your assignment today?”


“Come on tell me, you know I won’t beat you”

“I didn’t do it”

I still have the scars.


But come to think of it, these things they were actually trying to teach us back then, while we thought they were just being mean to us, were quite helpful. I remember specifically how we used to stand up and recite this ‘welcome greeting’ in nursery class every time a parent/teacher/headmistress came in.

“Goodmooooooooooorning Ma/Sir….. You are welcome to nursery 2A. God bless you Ma/Sir, Amen. Thank You.”

It was compulsory that any time someone much older than you walked in, you were to show your full respect by standing up and warming the person into the room, with your charm of course. Even if the person was so hideously looking and all you could think of was a crucifix and some garlic to chase the person away, you still had to pray for them. (That’s where the ‘God Bless You’ part comes in)

What our nursery school teachers failed to do, was to tell us this particular courtesy doesn’t apply in all cases – there are some instances you can’t just stand up and say hi… Fuck the rules!

What you are going to read happened in a small village called Nkwerre, in Nigeria of course…way back in the 1990s. 1994 to be precise.

On the fateful year, my parents decided that I should spend some time with my maternal uncle’s family back in the village who was a popular trader. My uncle and my aunt considered me as that ‘City Boy’ who needed a lot of help to adjust to life in Nkwerre and they tried their very best to make my 15day stay comfortable. Unfortunately, they couldn’t help me with one thing… Back then, houses in Nkwerre didn’t have toilets.


You read it right…

They didn’t have toilets. The folks in Nkwerre were so busy working that they found allocating space to toilets, an unnecessary wastage.

So as a result, my uncle’s house also didn’t have a toilet.

Within 30 minutes of landing in their house, I asked: “Uncle, toilet?”

“Number one or number two?” He enquired.

“Please Uncle, tell me,” I replied embarrassed.

“Son, it depends. Tell me…number one or number two?”

“”Hmm…number one.”

“Just head out to that little shed down there, wait for it to be empty. The best times for this is between 2pm to 4 pm”

“Whattttt?” I just couldn’t believe my ears, and eyes, at what he was pointing at.

My uncle smiled.

“Don’t worry, we have a better arrangement for number two.”

I could see that he was confident that his solution for number two was better than that for number one.

“And what if it were number two?”

“Hmm…in that case, here take this ₦5 note and head straight for the Anthony Road, the very next street…they have a public toilet there. Tell the guy sitting outside that its number two and give him this ₦5 and he will allow you inside.”

“Whattttt?” Again, I just couldn’t believe my ears.

Fate had struck twice within the span of 30 seconds. And struck at my genitals…it wasn’t going to be easy getting up.

With a heavy heart, I walked out of the house, onto the next shed and waited for it to be empty (it was a long wait)…and then emptied my bladder. The moment I was back, my uncle, aunt and their three children were waiting to ask me how it went. To add insult to injury, they were smiling.

That day, I didn’t drink too much water …but still had to rush out at 7pm. It was a little easier. At around 8pm, it struck me that I should also be worried about the next day morning. What about number two? So, I had a very light dinner…it surprised my aunt that a boy my age had such bad appetite. But I wasn’t willing to risk emptying my bowels in my trouser.

At 11 pm, I managed to sleep off the fear. But it was back again when I got up at 7am. I moved around the house slowly…lest I trigger some bowel movements. I refused the tea my aunt gave me saying I wasn’t into drinking tea. She couldn’t believe it…but I was adamant.

At 6.30 am, my uncle said I could accompany him to the public toilet. The whole distance I tried to maintain a balanced walk, lest I triggered any intestinal movements. I tried not to laugh at my uncle’s jokes, which tend to upset him a bit…but I didn’t care. Honour before anything else.

My first public toilet experience was a huge success. I was in and out in less than two minutes. The man who collected money smiled when he saw me return and asked me to come back the next day – and why not, after all it is the two-minute customers like me whom he would prefer for a bountiful business.

The next day my uncle didn’t accompany me. I would ask my uncle for ₦5 and walk out of the house on my daily chore….it was that simple. The next three days went well…in fact I had started to enjoy the new experience. It was all fine, I told myself. Or at least that is what I thought.

But on the fourth day tragedy struck…the moment I came out of the toilet after spending my ₦5, my stomach started mumbling again and I had this urge to go back immediately.

“Hi Sir, I just paid you ₦5 and came out early. Can I go again please?”

“No! For ₦5 there is only one entry. To enter again, you need to pay me another ₦5.”

I wouldn’t say I walked back with a heavy heart…it was in fact heavy bowels that I walked back home with, asked my uncle for another ₦5 and walked all the way back to the public toilet to relieve myself. I came back to my uncle’s house a dejected boy…and also, a boy who had understood the importance of ₦5.

This went on for a few days (I had started going there with ₦10, just in case). During a casual chat with my uncle, I asked him:

“Is this the only place one can go to?”

“No…there are couple of other options as well. But I thought you might not be so adventurous.”

This pricked my ego so I replied: “You haven’t tried me yet, uncle.”

He continued looking into his papers and said: “OK then, be ready at 6am. I would suggest you eat a light dinner.”

The next day we took off at about 6.15 am for an adventurous dump taking. Once I started asking questions, I came to know that we were going to a almost dried up lake in the outskirts of the village. We were to take a dump in the lake, wash up in the yet-to-dry parts of the lake and come back home.

As luck would have it, this lake was 3kms away and I was tired by the time we reached. But when we reached, it was heavenly….a wide expanse of dried up land with little bushes sprinkled all around. Once we were almost in the middle of the dried up lake, my uncle advised me to take a spot behind one of the bushes and relieve myself. The very next moment, he vanished…. probably behind some bushes.

I looked around, found a thickset bush, went behind it and squatted. The next two minutes were very peaceful…nobody in sight, just the chirruping of the birds. Just when I was about to get up I heard some women talking and the voices grew louder with time. I tried to place where they were coming from….and it was from right behind me.

I had two choices – stay put and pretend nothing happened or get up and stand right in the middle of nowhere, greet them while I pretend I was doing something else. I could have easily said I was Weeding the bushes. Or looking for my aunty’s lost earring. Or following the trails left by an animal, probably a mammoth.

Or just claim to be picking beans.

“Where’s is the beans?”

I planted them some days ago but not everyone can see them because they were magic beans an old woman gave me.

I chose the first option.

Now the voices were really close…and that’s when I heard: “Why won’t he get up? He is still sitting there. Has he no respect?”

They were talking about me!

But I stubbornly held my ground…now they were probably 15meters behind me.

Within seconds I could see them from the corner of my right eye. My nursery school teacher hadn’t advised me on the appropriate behaviour in such instances. The stench coming from beneath me was suicidal. But I held my ground…I continued to sit. For psychological comfort, I even closed my eyes.

I heard one woman ask the other: “Do you think he is blind?”

The other replied: “Even if he was blind, I am sure he can hear us. Or is he is both blind and deaf?”

Now I didn’t need to look through the corner of my eye – I could see them through the bushes. But I continued to hold my ground.

Before they disappeared, the first woman told the second: “Children of now a days have no respect…can’t they get up when they see women approaching? Nonsense! If he were my child I would have beaten his destiny out of him.”

Now I knew why the women were upset…but it was too late to get up.

I think it was a mini heart attack or a nervous breakdown, all I remember was gravity taking over and something warm and uncomfortable welcoming me.


Fairy Fails

I was sitting around doing my daily Rounds of meditation, and a few thoughts crept into my subconscious and opened my mind to things that you homo sapiens have otherwise been oblivious to. You people have been in the dark for far too long yo!

Never fear. Cumical’s here.

I shall further proceed to enlighten you. It’s bad enough that you have no idea about the origins of the childhood stories you grew up to. And yet you stay eating food and breathing air like nothing is wrong! There are subconscious messages in the average storybook, and y’all niggas don’t see this shit?

Tsk tsk. *lights blunt*

Listen close.

We shall begin with by far the most obvious sex scandal of all time. Subtly hidden in the title I might add. I wonder why no one has seen this.

-Little Red Riding Hood
This skank red-haired ho here be wearing red pumps and lingerie, skipping through the forest merrily, looking for some dick.

Yo! Red is by far the worst ho since Snow White.

But that’s a story for another day.

Ain’t no damn wolf in this love story. Shiiit.

Remember Robin Hood? Steal-from-the-rich give-to-the-broke-ass-bitches Robin Hood? Real nigga with the bows and arrows and the really strong hands, and about four hunnid faggots all up in his grill ‘n’ shit? Yeah, that’s the nigga we’re gonna be shedding some light on.

Huddle up niggas. Huddle up.

So Red be doing her daily dick survey yeah? Robin Hood be setting traps for rich niggas in the forest n shit. Red be going “Damn, he fine” skipping merrily t’wards the nigga with her titties all bouncing and what not, goimg “Hey, what big strong hands you have”

Now Robin Hood might be a kind hearted gentleman that gives to the poor and to charity and all, but the wadn’t gon let no pussy slide, nah mean? So he gets his baritone on and goes “The better to fist you with”

Oi! Wole, Tula! Do you see what I did there? No?

Then Red goes “What a strong back you have”

Hood goes “Yeah, work’s all night too”

Red goes “What a big dick you have”

Hood goes “How the fuck did you see that?”

Red goes “Oh I seen you butt nekkid during those regular feasts o’ yours. Yeah, you be hanging that dick on your shoulder n’ shit” and the skank ho starts taking Hood’s shirt off, and his pants and gets on top of him and…

Well, Little Red (starts) Riding Hood.

Bet you didn’t know that, didya? Nah…

You’re welcome. Mortals…

Let’s move on, shall we?


Everyone knows Rapunzel was black right? If you didn’t know, then now you do. She lived in a tower with her ‘wicked grandmother’, who never let her go out, she was 18 years old, and she was blacker than Michael Jackson. And guess what other thing she had in common with MJ?

A jerry curl…

Lemme start from the beginning though! Kick some knowledge in this bitch.
Rapunzel’s ‘grandmother’ didn’t need Rapunzel’s hair to look young. She had Dr. 90210 for that shit. Naaah. Rapunzel’s mother was a lesbian yo! And she needed that young blood, that vibrant exotic body. Rapey never got any older than 18, and that was her magic. Not that she could transfer that to anybody or any absurd shit like that.

ALSO (and this is very important), Rapey had a fro. But it wasn’t on her head. It was down south on her tushie. Booyah!
I kid you not. Faggots, I kid you not.
Rapunzel’s grandmother had a standard OTIS lift that took her up and down the tower so she really didn’t need Rapey’s hair to get in and out. So really, every time she said “Rapunzel, let down your hair”, she wanted to have sex.

And believe it or not, Rapey’s vagina fro would become a jerry curl and slide all the way down, parting at the clittoris to reveal that sweet nectar.

Get it? Let down…your hair?

*crowd goes crazy*

*blushing* Shhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!! You guys! I’m trying to spit wisdom.

Another thing, is that the fro had voice prompt. So the damn vagina wouldn’t open up for anybody else. So a young horny prince once noticed this shit going on, and recorded Rapey’s grandmother while she was saying “Let down your hair”, and then bust a cap in her, and saved Rapey from the bondage therein. He now had the key to the pussy which he kept locked on his iPod.

You’re welcome yo! You’re welcome.

I’ve got a couple more, but the post is already getting long, so that will be all for today. Cool? Cool. See y’all tomorrow.

Am I free now?

Paddy Trumbull


@OluwaWanaBaba here.

*blank stare*

I’m here to tell a story, so can y’all please sit yo’ asses down? Okay? Better.

*sips engine oil*

I’m here to tell you the story of a legend. The person who makes Voldemort cringe in fear… The person who makes Adolf Hitler run for cover… The person who sends Didier Drogba’s babalawo to his knees.

Her name…

*crowd murmurs… “A woman?”*

Yes, a woman, you chauvinistic egotistical male pigs.

Her name… Paddy Trumbull.

Let me give you the official gist first… What we told the public… Paddy is a 62-year old grandmother who fought off an attack from a shark just two years ago, suffering several lacerations to her buttocks and losing a lot of blood.

*ooohs and aahs rise from the crowd*

That is just a tiny proportion of the story. But during my tour of Australia last month, I met Paddy in person. And the story was so awesome I had to bring her in to come and tell us the story herself… People, welcome Paddy Trumbull.

Paddy: Hello y’all. Wana told me he would like me to share my story with you all, so I decided I would, because I admire his awesomeness and I want to be awesome like him one day.

This all happened because I had a big ass. My big ass has always been a major factor in my life. My best subject in school was Astrology. My best racing game was Asphalt. My parents were killed by assassins. I’m asthmatic. I could go on and on about the things in my life that my ass has decided…

Don’t get me wrong though… I love my ass… I’m very proud of it, or at least, what’s left of it

*Paddy stands up and taps her ass, Kelvin straightens his tie*

Ice Prince: Her ass makes me throw groundnuts in the air. Astronaut.

Paddy: *smiles* Back to what truly happened. My husband and I were out snorkeling when –

Terdoh: Snorke-what? TF is that?

Paddy: Snorkeling, you Benue-ass nigga. It means swimming in water… Or something like that… Shii confuses me at times too… That’s not the point… Don’t interrupt me again, okay?

Terdoh: Okay *hides face*

Paddy: So my husband and I were off snorkeling *sneers at Terdoh* off Dent Island in Queensland, when the unthinkable happened.

@HomeSchooldNerd: Why’s it called Dent Island though?

Paddy: Because a lot of dentists live there.

Wana and Terdoh, can you please tell your friends to stop interfering? They’re cramping my style.

@weird_oo: Your style is on her period?

Wana: Please y’all…

Paddy: So… *eyes crowd tentatively* I’m just chillin’ in the water, when this black guy with huge tribal marks, comes out from nowhere, and tells me he wants to tap my feel my ass.

I’m flattered; of course, that this black man swam all the way from wherever he swam from. I’m a modest person though, and do not just allow anybody to touch the 10th wonder of the world: my sweet bum.

@NickFish3r: Padi mi Paddy, you no go vex abeg, but I gats interrupt now. There are only 7 wonders of the world. How come your ibadii is the 10th wonder?

Paddy: *sigh* You don’t know the list has been reviewed? Wana’s blog is the 8th wonder of the world, Moin-Moin is the 9th, and my ass is the 10th.

So while I was thinking of a polite way to turn the black, scar-faced gentleman down, I offered him some Moin-Moin and a can of beer and we got talking. I found out that he was from Ibadan and his name was Emmanuel, though he kept on pronouncing it as Hemmanuel. He said he dreamt of my yansh (That’s the word he used for my ass… Such a vulgar word) and swam all the way through the  Atlantic and Indian oceans just to feel it.

It was becoming late, and I knew I had to dispose of the nigga straightaway. I looked him in the eye, and tried to mimic him. “Hemma, you have to go”. Then he took a sip of the beer, and his eyes turned blood-shot red.

I think Wana should take over from here. *wipes tear*

Wana: Sorry Paddy.

So, as the story dey go. As the guy shark the paraga, na im the paraga shark am sef. As the paraga shark am, na im the guy turn to Shark. As the guy turn to shark, e come look Paddy for eye tell am say, “Aunty Oyinbo, mi o kin se Anakin Skywalker, but mo ma jedi e.”

Paddy was frightened and before she could react, the ibadan man-cum-shark lept on her left gluteal cheek and ripped half of it out, lacerating her legs, making her bleed profusely.

She had lost a lot of blood, and was about losing consciousness. She was about to give up when she heard a voice from the heavens telling her to “reach for the Moin-Moin floating beside her and eat it”. And as she stuffed it in her mouth, she felt new life in her.

She suddenly had the belief she could do anything thanks to the Moin-Moin in her, and she put it to good use. She first transformed herself into Shang-Tsung, and sucked her blood back from the shark. Then she turned into Ice Prince and dropped 16 bars on the shark’s head.

While the shark was dazed, she ripped its jaws apart. And in one swift move, she changed into Sergio Ramos and kicked the shark into orbit.

By the time her husband got back to her, she had changed back to herself. He was horrified by her wounds, and took her to a hospital.

And the rest, as they say, is a subject for Arts students in Senior Secondary School.

And that is the awesome story of Paddy Trumbull.

Don’t hate the player, playa.

The Schema

Hello Mortals…

He finally posted something!

Cool your lobules, this is not a proper post. It’s an appeal. Na beg I come beg una oh. Say make una no forget say this blog still dey.


So, while I am stuck in this mortal body, I’ve been forced to do things that you humans do. And a lot has been going on in my life recently, but I’ll be damned if you ever see any personal stuff on here. I’ve got a psychoanalyst and a psychiatrist in my bathroom and rearview mirrors respectively.
So, we good.

Still, loads of stuff happening. First of all, let’s focus on the very important stuff. Stuff that will change lives and probably destinies…

Game of Thrones is out.

Also, Hunger Games. Which I haven’t watched, yet inexplicably, I continue to breathe.

*sigh* You mortals have successfully hyped the most irrelevant, most immaterial things and turned them to objects of worship. That’s how my friend, Prince, is already planning the scam he will pull to get the Blackberry Blade.

Jesus be a source of common sense.

But who am I to point fingers? I changed my phone from a Curve 2 because I wanted my life to flash before my eyes just before I died.

Anyway, I have a guest post from the same dude that featured first in my other life. Ladies and gentlemen, I present @YemiJohnson.


How To Make Money:
Yo! Earthy mortals, it’s not my thing to greet viewers this way but the owner of this blog made it compulsory. First of, the disclaimer.

I am responsible for what I write but I am not responsible for what you understand.
I understand that the intent of this blog is to deliver humor in puns, mildly stereotyped jokes, fables and any other means necessary. I am not a humorous person, I lost that part of me a long time ago due to tumor growing on my funny bone(r). My attempts to make this post as humorous as I can, will only put me in further pain and I am still undergoing chemo. The only thing I understand is sarcasm and I am still not good at it. I think it’s because my role model is Sheldon Cooper. Wow, I find my confession weirdly amusing.

Simply put, I hate humor. 😀 fork it, the smiley is meant to be the straight face-talk to the hand-not interested smiley, my dam spell check is faulty and it’s turning my swear words to pointless things. Shut. Fork this shut!

I hate to see people wallowing in poverty and so I have decided to be charitable for once. I will let you in on some secrets to making cool cash, my parents must not hear about this ooh, their brouhaha is too much for me to handle. Asides my blog this will be my only philanthropic act to the good people of blogsville. If you so desire to hear the tips again you would have to book a meeting with me at a discreet location and at a fee with many ones, zeroes, commas and no decimal point.

Any butch niger (I hate this spell check, I should have used a different system. Probably my nervous system…See what I’m saying?) that doesn’t like my methods of making mad cash can go get in a three-some with Bumble Bee and Optimus Prime. My ways are legit and will soon be published in the Times and Forbes magazines. No kidding like barren goats.

Plan 1
I presently work at a sperm bank and it pays. I give my special men to some group of hotties way outside my league (J.LO). I don’t get to bang them but they bear my child, it’s just like being knocked up and the pay is worth it. All you need to do is drink lots of water, a vivid imagination, loads of Vaseline, a strong hand. Truth is wanking helps you build, statistics show that 86% of men with firm and strong biceps are wankers #fact.

Editor’s note: Eyyysss!

As I was saying, place a subscription for the monthly issue of playboy magazine, there are more than enough pictures to last you for practice time before you resume work.

Practice makes perfection.

Perhaps if your faith is strong enough, your special men could fertilize an egg that would bring forth another Obama or Einstein and if you have the good sense, you will fight to get your son back. If your spawn inadvertently becomes a terrorist like Muttalab with the IQ of The Hulk, then you’re lucky. No one pins it back on you. Happy Jerking.

Plan 2
Since the 14 year jail term sentence, most homos have receded into their shells, waiting for a messiah to come and fight for them, pity tho. I overheard some gay looking dude over the telephone saying he wanted to start a brothel at his house, he had just gotten his first customer, I was about to approach him and confirm what it was I was hearing but then, the gayassniger (dam spell check) began to wink at me. He was fairly huger than me and any further steps could have put me at risk of being his second customer, so I ran.


My point is, if you are a broke ass gay niger this is your shot at wealth. Open that gay brothel now under the guise of YMCA, it will work out just fine. No one has ever questioned their activities before and for Lesbos, you people are too much, I will personally fund any Lesbo brothel. This has nothing to do with what I’m saying but I personally think y’all are the bomb diggity. Nothing sexier than two girls yo. XXXX – See what I did there?

Plan 3
Being gangster pays off, if I were gangster I would park my load to computer village and boss all them little spoilt kids that come to buy ipods, laptops, blackberries and all those other gadgets that ‘dem rich spoilt children come to buy with the money they scammed from their parents. There is no crime in collecting the money….. From where I come from they call it cribber’s cribbing, the cribber is the looter and the cribbing is the loot. Looting from the cribber is allowed after all, it was never his property. All you need is some yellow stains on your teeth and a red eye. This signifies you are a heavy smoker and drinker, a thick pidgin-ish accent and a firm grip is also required. Your appearance would get your victim frightened and scared out of his guts. Don’t get caught sha. This method is not legit in every jurisdiction.

Plan 4
There is still another legit means to obtain people. Heck, I have a friend that was obtained the legit way not so long ago…. Don’t tell anyone. To run this kind of package all you need is a good eye and be a boy boy to the owner of a shop in computer village. Let every shop owner in that vicinity like you because you would need their support. Speak in a very husky voice but be friendly, do not make the price of your service very clear to your customer/victim. If he keeps bothering you with the price, beat around the bush some more and talk in Yoruba. When you have done the service, you make your price clear and watch your maga as he tries to debate the price with you. Calm him down and tell him the work is irreversible and he has to pay the full charge. If he refuses to calm down then you can call in your guys one by one. I assure you, no one wants to die or be beaten, panic will get the better part of your maga and he will give you your full wage and if your maga is one of those rich spoilt kids, he might even add something extra for your guys. This was not done to me but trust me it works.

Plan 5
And finally this is directed at the mofo that owned this blog ‘’. I was so livid when he closed down the blog and later he would say you don’t get shishi from owning a blog. The butch ass niger could have sold it for real cash. I had slaughter to own a blog with so much views and subscribers… oh! You are asking me what I will do if I owned the blog? I won’t tell you yet, it’s my own personal plan, I can’t let nigers like Tula and the dude at the sirqastic corner in on my secrets to get more cash. They seem to know their way around here. I am doing the least bit I can with my blog and it’s paying off. I got a free ticket to the hottest party taking place on the 3rd of march at club vegas on the Sheraton/opebi road link from 9 pm till dawn by just following @ent_prestige and advertising for them on my blog posts plus I also get one of the organizers side chick’s side friend. Impressive ehn! So I will be big banging a babe and the theory that bloggers don’t get shishi.

I wonder who saw what I did in the last paragraph.

Well this brings me to my conclusion, I am sure the girls in the house would have noticed that my tips where male sided. You can only infer from this that I wish every girl was a lesbo but still bisexual tho. Don’t ask why, just my own weird fetish.
I have said enough shut today……. Go make some cash.


Yeah, fuck ye niokar!
Anyway, I finally posted something, even though it wasn’t mine. I’ve been dead busy with stuff, but fuck it, I’m back. You might not want to expect too much from me, I’m just recovering. I still love y’all though, and I’ve got something planned. So watch this space. And subscribe. It means a fuckload to me. Thanks yo!

The Origin

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here once again to waste time and talk about stuff that will not put money in your pocket or food on your table.


Today’s post will be…

Where are my manners? Accept my apologies.

Greetings! Mortals.

Today’s post will be divided into two segments. One segment will be more interesting than the other. But you have to read through the first segment to get to the second. The first will be talking about the real origin of Valentine (as I promised last week), and in the second segment we will be revealing my top 3 sexual escapades.

Oh yeah, now the follow button is on a bar on the blog page. You have no excuse not to subscribe. (Na beg I dey beg, abeg subscribe)

Thanks! Now to the post!

*claps hands together in glee*

The 14th of February

Historical belief 1:
The early medieval acta of Saint Valentine were expounded briefly in LegendaAurea. According to that version, St. Valentine was persecuted by Roman Emperor Claudius II. Claudius was impressed by Valentine and had a discussion with him, attempting to convert him to Roman paganism to save his life. Valentine, being a sharp guy, tried to convert Baba Claudie to Christianity, and failed. He was executed, but before this, he reportedly healed the blind daughter of his jailer.

(He probably shagged her, and made her call out the names of various deities many times, and it was all very romantic, but that’s not why we are here)

Historical Belief 2:
Valentine was a priest who refused an unattested law attributed to Roman Emperor Claudius II allegedly ordering that young men remain single (Claudius’ rationale behind this decree was because Pagan festivals were usually gay, you couldn’t have married balls all up in your face. It was also, because he needed single men in war. So between battles, it would be fornication, not adultery). But Valentine secretly performed marriage ceremonies for young men. And when Baba Claudie found out, he threw Valentine in jail.

I call bullshit.

Remember Cupid?

Where is Cupid in this story? You can’t have a valentine story without the winged, little, gay faggot who serves as Robin Hood’s competition. You can’t!!

Fret not, mortals. I have come to your rescue. 😀

Side Note: Cupid is the symbol of pedophile love. If you didn’t know, now you do. That’s why he’s still a baby.

Why We Are Here:
See, this Valentine dude was a fine young man. Not a priest, just a young man who worked in the stables of the Roman Emperor Claudius I. The Roman Emperor was an old man, stricken in years with many daughters, and one son who was just a little younger than Valentine. Okay, maybe the difference between Claudius II and Valentine was like 10 years, but you get the idea.

I could describe how Valentine fell in love with Claudius II while he was still 8 years old, but let me just cut the bull and get straight to the chase.

Valentine rapes little Claudius, Claudius becomes a damaged person, Claudius I dies, Claudius II becomes Emperor, jails Valentine when he comes into power, Valentine never stops loving Claudius, meets Jailer’s daughter who he opens up to about his love for Claudius. It’s all very romantic.

This is where Cupid comes in…

He came to visit Valentine one night when he was jerking dancing to Claudius’ latest victory song. Cupid claimed to have been drawn to Valentine ever since he noticed the amount of love exuding from him. They sat down and discussed Cupid’s power and Valentine was awed by the potency of the arrows and thinking about Claudius, he decided “Fuck yeah. Imma get that ass tonight”. Cupid heard his thoughts and got up to leave, but Valentine was desperate. A tussle ensued.

All this while, the jailer’s daughter just happened to be taking a midnight stroll round the prison grounds, and on hearing noises coming from the struggle, decided to check it out. The moment she showed up, Valentine was distracted, and Cupid stabbed him with an arrow.

You can figure out what happened. He fell in love with the Jailer’s daughter.

When Valentine was destined to die, he wrote a love letter and yada yada yada…

-Valentine was a gay ass pedophile. Please remember this. It will be useful later in life.

-Cupid is (and will always be) a bitch nicca. Stabbing niggas while they’re down.

-This stuff is so preposterous, it’s most likely true.

Yeah, that’s that for that segment. This is the segment you’ve all been waiting for.

My Sexual Escapades
The following are true stories that you are all allowed to use against me in the future:

Yeah, this time I was…(._. )

Oh, and there was this chick who ( ._. )

And then that other time when….( ._.)

Yeah. I’m Gangsta.

See you guys next week.

Happy Valentine’s Day.



It’s been a goddamn busy week for me and it has been so fucking stressful, that I haven’t had time to write anything (for myself). Apparently, I’m too selfless (fuck you! I am!) for my own good, and I should put my fucking blog first.

Am I the only one who thinks there are too many expletives in that paragraph?

Let’s try something shall we? No curse words in this post, except for the ones that have already been dropped of course.

Good! Just sweet loving and pounded yam lingo.

Note: The words “Bitch” and “Nigga” are not curse words! I make the rules here. Check the Terms and Conditions page.

Note to self: Make a Terms and Conditions page.

Moving on…

As we enter the season of valentine and all that time-wasting gay stuff, I won’t begin to bore anyone with any of the tips on how to shenk your girlfriend. (Check our sisteh blog TSC for tips on those). Nah…none o’ dat. I read a post today by some Psycho chick that truly inspired me. The said post was teaching babes how to detect how your man is cheating by getting your Nancy-Drew meets Girl-Fawkes mode on, and going all retro-magnifier on his ass.

Girl, please! Real niggas are like a cross breed between Unicorns and Phoenixes. Ever caught one? No!

This is not to say you will begin to rest on your oars because you’re the Invisible Man when a search is being held, dear real nigga. Be careful! Female Dogs are air hostesses. Bitches be tripping. One slip-up, and you’re done. Women are a lot smarter than we think they are. If you ever woke up in the middle of the night to catch her staring at you, you better clear your browser history.

[“Bitches” there was not a curse word. It was a term to describe females. Cos I don’t know all your names. You know…as a collective noun]

Now this post isn’t for the real niggas. We got all that stuff covered. This here is for the bitch niggas that can’t seem to cover up their tracks like a wolf with no tail.


Listen close bitch nigga. I won’t say this stuff twice.

Scenario 1:
When your girl comes into your crib to investigate, she is going to come unexpectedly. (What you think?). She’s going to walk straight to your bedroom.

Apparently, (according to the post), if your room is unnecessarily tidy, you, bitch nigga, have been cheating.

Now we know this is true. (._. )

Don’t worry, I’ve come up with a worthy excuse for this. When accosted, you sober the heck up, and say the following words; verbatim:

“Today is my grandmother’s death anniversary. She always made me tidy up my room whenever she was around and I did it to remember her”.

Get your act right, and you just might get laid.

You’re welcome.

Scenario 2
Now, she finds hair on your bed; Too long to be yours, and too red to be hers (nobody told you to bring home the 800 pound “Rihanna-look-alike” from the club that night. You brought this on yourself!), and she starts throwing a tantrum.

Response: I don’t even know what you talmbout. Tula be bringing these chicks up in the crib and what not…imagine, I slept in the toilet yesterday.

Her: Oh, you know Tula?

Response: Yeah. He hangs out here all the time.

Her: Will you get an autograph for me next time y’all meet?

Response: Yeah sure. Pshhh, girl you tripping. Now come gimme some sugar.

POW! Missionary!

Scenario 3

If she still doesn’t believe you cos your lying ass ain’t a convincing homo erectus, she will be heading to your bathroom for further Sherlock Holmes activity. The last girl left her lady shampoo and feminine body lotion in there, and she comes out holding them with a “What the heck is this?” look on her face.

Well, damn nigga, you done messed up.

Sorry bro, can’t help you. You ain’t even a bitch nigga, you just a faggot.

I get the lotion, but Side-chick-shampoo at yo place?

Can’t. Help. You.

Oh yeah, another fad I read on is the case of these insecure bitches waiting till you fall asleep, then taking out your memory card from your phone so they can go through your stuff.

At this point, it’s needless to say that app-lock will not save your ass.

But super glue will. (‾⌣‾)♉

You super glue that memory card to your phone, and never let it out of your sight. You hear me bitch nigga?

Again, you’re welcome.

I’m done saving your ass. I’ll be reporting again next week. Hopefully. I should have a pre-valentine post up. Maybe a gay story on the origin of valentine. Who knows?

See you next week, Mortals.

And Larry Sushey.

Moral Of The Story:
Terdoh cannot write a post without curse words.