EPISODE 2: Kings of the Loo+News Roundup

To kill the boredom and loneliness, my snow-infested brain formulated 3 fail safe plans. First was to get a six pack of my favourite drink in the UK called Stella Artois. Stella is quite a notorious drink over here and is fondly called the ‘Wife beater’ because when the Euro Nationals drink it, it intoxicates them so much that in most cases, their wives bear the brunt. I tried that and it didn’t work, in fact it made it worse, I proceeded to Plan 2 which was to go on a night out and party.
Dressed like an Eskimo in the wintry conditions, I manoeuvred myself into a bus going towards the club. In the bus, I reflected on my life so far. Back in Nigeria, going to the club with my ‘hooliganic friends’ was like a ceremony in itself. From bar to bar we prowled, making Arthur Guinness smile in his grave as his earthly pockets swelled with our Naira. With our brain molecules mixed with the barleys of Guinness we would enter our cars and form the most joyful procession ever, a convoy of promise, a night train. On the way there, we would break speed limits, punish our tires, bribe the police with money and booze...Back to the present, I winced, looked at myself through the glass and couldn’t discern the difference between myself and Santa Claus with the amount of clothing I had on. Only the beard remained, it seemed.
If you are a regular club-goer or alcohol sympathiser then you know that the toilet is one of the most frequented arenas to get rid of the life-saving poisonous liquid inside you. On my numerous trips to this hallowed place did I come to this scientific observation. I observed that from empirical studies, Nigerians are undisputedly the Managing Directors of toilets in the United Kingdom. Truth be said, I have not gone to any club in the UK from Bournemouth to London without seeing a Nigerian overseeing the night-to-night activities of the lavatory. My research led me to the fact that most of these ‘Toilet Research Administrators’ are from either Edo State or Port-Harcourt.
I have talked to a couple of these distinguished ‘Managers’ but the love of the pound sterling to them far outweighs the respectability of their jobs. If these same dudes go back home to Nigeria, it is this same you and I that would descend on them as fast as a LASTMA official on an offending driver passing one-way. When these dudes come home, we see them as established, millionaires, successful but from my vantage point here, I call them Kings of the Loo.
A sobering thought indeed so much that after most of these discussions, my inebriate mind clears making me waste the precious pound notes I used to buy the beer that was supposed to keep me tipsy and ‘loneliness proof’. Damn! Worse still, at 4am when most leave the club, there are no buses at that time, only cabs.
Due to my rare illness called ‘Cabophobia’, a strange illness caused by watching a cab money-meter increase by the pound thereby making me all sweaty, nervous and broke. I elected to keep fit by pulling my hoodie on my head and walk the 40 minutes back to my room in minus 3 degree conditions. How thought and mind sobering could that be? As if the Man Upstairs wanted to take a piss out of me, the clouds opened up and it started raining. Terrific. Just my luck.
Arriving my room and shivering like Jack in Titanic and cursing in languages in which I understood and didn’t, I switched to Plan 3. It was the last card I had to play; it was all I had left lest I lose my mind. I decided a fortnight in Motherland, Nigeria would cure my craze. The thought in itself warmed me up...

                 MEMOIRS NEWS ROUND UP

Last week, after months of debate, expectation, controversy, our president finally came back home after months of being incommunicado in a Saudi Arabian hospital. Just as acting president, Goodluck Jonathan was just coming to grips with Aso Rock and probably thinking about redesigning his ‘new home’ shows our president.

Don’t let that picture deceive you, according to reports, especially those of 234NEXT, our president is not as fit as a hip-hop star but still in a hospitalized condition. In fact if conspiracy theories are your thing, you should read 234NEXT’s version that might lead to suggestions that our president is no longer a he but a SHE-his wife Turai Yaradua.

 The Nigerian political tussle gets more interesting,more interesting than a chilled bottle of small stout and Nkwobi. More here to come as it unfolds.
Talking about tussles, last weekend in the world of soccer saw another between former team-mates John Terry and Wayne Bridge come head-to-head for the first time after the truth about an affair between the former and Bridge’s partner. After the disclosure, Bridge sensationally quit playing for England and the eyes of the world focused on the pair to see if they would shake hands. Bridge snubbed Terry big time and ignored shaking him in one of the most anticipated handshakes of all time.

Wouldn’t blame him though, if I was Bridge, I would be sorely tempted to take it a notch further and kick him in the nuts till I hear it crunch and see him writhe in agony.Well, that is my own opinion anyway but i still feel boys need to arrange Terry even though justice seemed to have been done with Bridge's Man City beating Chelsea 4-2. You just don't shag your pal's gal and expect three points after.
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Cheers