Guest appearance

Sharrap! I know you have missed me and there’s nothing you can say/do to convince me otherwise. Thou shalt not (˘̯˘ )!
I’ve been so busy with life so much so that I haven’t had time for blogosphere. So when I had a lil’ chat with Tola and she offered to write on here, I jumped on the opportunity like a copper coin on magnet. She writes about shoes. Something that has been on my mind for a bit now… Enjoy!

N.B- Takalmi is Hausa for shoes (I think)

“There are two kinds of people in this world, my friend; the kind that notice the shoes first and the kind that don’t.” Wise words from Tuco Ramirez (of the Good, the Bad and the Ugly – directed by Firdausi – fame). Today, we are going to talk about shoes; the stiff outer covering for feet. I really don’t know where to start from so I’m going to do what I do best – write nonsense and hope you find the sense and discard the non.
So we are going to start with what shoes are made of. Leather, wood, canvas, rubber, plastic and other petrochemical-derived materials (for more details please go to are materials that are involved in the shoe making process. This post is supposed to be about my take on shoes, so I’m going to select a few types.
Men have no problem when it comes to shoes (or most things in life); most of their shoes are comfortable (or so they look). What, you have your pams, toms, vans, loafers, plimsoles, what else? Bottom line, you guys are happy with your choice of footwear. I really don’t have anything to say under this sub-topic. If you are guy and you want an in-depth write up on this, this is the wrong post.

LADIES!!!! Yes! Wassup y’all. :D. ok, so I’m not really a girly girl, I wear mostly sandals and I just started wearing shoes at the beginning of this session (October). When the Great Massasushey chose this topic, I was perplexed as to what exactly I would write but I am the Queen of Freestyling (among other things, Subs included). I’m going to start with sandals. I absolutely loooove them; comfortable, pretty, lets your feet breathe, comfortable, doesn’t require much space to pack in a bag, comfortable, FLAT(very important to me), easy to put on (unless u buy the ones with annoying straps), comfortable… what else, comfortable, comfortable… and oh, comfortable.
Peep-toe shoes; in my opinion, the toes that are peeping out are more hurt than those minding their business (this further illustrates that aproko is bad). And some people ‘with toes like pincers’ refuse to spare us and wear this kind of shoes. Like seriously? The only reason I can think of for wearing a peep-toe is maybe because you want to seduce those with toe fetish(es), you know, the mini skirt effect… I can’t even wear my pair if I don’t have nail polish on (yes dear, I have a pair). To cut this story short, your toes shouldn’t be peeping if they are not pretty; and please don’t tell me you are proud of your toes, no one is proud of ugly (and if you are, I’m praying for you right here).

Heels!!! Oh Lord, I still haven’t been able to adjust to this kind. You can call me a failed woman if you want to. Omo, that thing no easy jo! I can’t even wear it for three straight hours (church). My mother says with time, it’ll come to me; it’s not coming. Some of my ‘friends’ have asked me what I’ll wear on my wedding day (assuming I’m going to get married – anyway, refer to the fourth paragraph). They say heels complement an outfit, I say there’s an alternative to everything (ask our dearest muslim brethren, they came up with shisha among other stuff). Besides, I can look just as good in my darling flats. Since I have never won a comfortable pair of heels, I have concluded that heels are worn either by stoics or masochists. I will end here.

Actually, I will NOT end there. I heard platforms are the most comfortable and stilettos are the least. Why would I even want to wear anything named after a dagger? (but I can wear stuff named after a type of fighter sha). Some women are blessed with the gift of wearing heels sha… Lady Gaga for example, that woman is just… she makes it look so easy! With those funny looking stuff she wears *sign of the cross*. You don’t want to be like Onika Maraj; ever notice how she has to hold somebody anytime she’s in heels? Like seriously, it’s not by force. If I had that much money, I’ll have Giuseppe make me a pair of looooovely flats; custom made and all.
This is officially the end of this post.

I’ve always wanted to be a Sushey and now that I’m on a Sushey’s blog, I can’t help but feel elated. Er… I’m also a feature blogger so you can contact me if you want me to write something for you, you have to come up with a topic though. I would like to thank my sis for editing this, me for writing this, Siobhan (I just came up with this name for my laptop, I really wanna be a cool kid) for not shutting down suddenly and deleting all this work, you for reading this, Massasushey for posting this; and anyother person/thing that has made this post possible.
Dear Susheys, I reside in Abuja and it would be an honour if I am made part of your family (one would think that knowing Teni ‘personally’ would make this easier).
And let’s not forget, people, the Firdausi Fone Fund. Please make this #TeamForeverAlone member happy by donating to the cause of the purchase of a pink Samsung Galaxy Note.

Thank you and God bless.
Boys have ugly shoes too babe! Didn’t you read “The Last Mohican?” That was the 2nd post ever on this blog I think…
Anyway, much ado about shoes. Use the comment section to share your experiences on any ‘shoe’ experiences.

Plus, do y’all think Tola should be a Sushey?! 😀 =D. Contact her on twitter; @Phydaursi.

Immortal Larry Sushey.

Today’s post is written by one of my favourite bloggers. The uber talented @xoAFRO and you can hear the sound of him and @uberbetty‘s juju gong beat here. Jazzman and woman…

This post starts with a proverb from another wise man.

Sinister Savant

“The difference between a villain and a criminal is in the art of it” – The Sinister Savant.

Allow me introduce myself. I am not Hov. I am The Sinister Savant and I am a consultant.

Not your usual type of consultant oh! I actually offer my advisory services to villains a.k.a bad goiz… *Doom Doom Doom* bosses… *Rozay Grunt* and the usual unpopular crowd of evil-dom. My practice has been very successful so far and I have a very impressive resume. This is why Sinister Savant and Sons has a very impressive office in the conspicuously beautiful UBA building, Broad street, Lagos. Of course, on a reserved floor not accessible by the general elevator.

You cannot find me if you are not a ‘bad goiz’, you can only come recommended; we of the underworld only do business with our kind because of the attending risks. Come calling with a reference letter from any of our previous clients of respected name, maybe The Green Goblin, or Lex Luthor, or Mojo Jojo, or Joker or OJ Simpson or Dick Dastardly or Magneto or Shredder or Terry G’s hairdresser or the Pinky/Brain duo (preferably signed by Brain) or Dr. Octopus or TopCat or Scar or Patience Ozokwor or Akuu or IBB or McWolf or Darth Vader or M. Bison or Michael Jackson’s doctor or Wile E Coyote or Samedy Sam or Qaddaffi or Jigsaw or Sheep in The Big City’s General Specific or Major Minor or the rich Russian guy sponsoring Vic O, AfroCandy and Speed Darlington music.

Our Clientele...

I only fux with evil minds.

I’m sure you’ve noticed something and you’re itching to say it. Cool down. Mesef, I know. Despite my superb consultancy services, most of these villains are celebrity failures. I would explain this but first you must understand that the business of ruining lives and taking over the world on a grand scale is very difficile. That is not even the major problem, I would have you know that these villains don’t take all my advice into account after paying such heavy funds for it. As lon as they fail, we’re still in business.

Seriously, how does one lose a showdown with The Kids Next Door or Hong Kong Phooey? It couldn’t be that difficile for an adult to defeat a bunch of kids armed with contraptions filled with toothpaste and held together by bubble gum and yet, adults stay losing. As a matter of principle, if you lose to Hong Kong Phooey, you won’t be allowed back in my office. You mean to tell me that you cannot overpower a stupid dog that reads a Kung-fu book in the exact moment that he’s supposed to fight you and then when he tries out his new knowledge, his flying kick takes him out the window? Why not just shoot the bitch as h reads?!

If you lose to the Indomitables, please commit suicide. Indomie children are weak children.

One annoying deviation from the plan that these villains make is The Tirade. The Tirade is a long, winding speech that these baddies like to give after gaining a temporary victory. I’ve repeatedly told great orators like Akuu that it’s not practical and he always complains that it’s necessary, so we schedule for a 10-second speech in the plan and then he takes three full minutes to talk rubbish. Of course, you know what happens. I’ve told him that criminals should stick to the plan. I have never seen an armed robber giving a two-minute speech before/after a successful heist on how he’s been planning the gig for ten months and how the society never appreciated him and his victory is payback?  Fucking Tirades!

Former client Tuco showing how to shoot and not talk.

Sponsors’ SIDE NOTE:

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Now I daresay that the most annoying villain I’ve ever worked with is this ape right here:

Mojo Jojo

A monkey with an oversized brain,  you will agree with me that he should have taken over the world long ago. I honestly don’t think he wants to though, I think that he just does it for the incest and the S&M, so that the PowerPuff girls come to touch him. I bet he gets a hard on from the beating!

Seriously! Brother Mojo cannot outsmart three girls in Kindergarten who should be his kid sisters? Puh-lease! Let us take a look at the perv’s name. Mojo? Jojo? Professor X named him Jojo after listening to KC and Jojo’s Crazy. He also sent Jojo to Kings College for the pun of it. The rascals there introduced Jojo to pornography and that’s how he became Mojo Jojo. One day, as he was looking through his favorite edition of Monkey Sluts, he got so hammy that he forgot himself and whipped wood out in class for a quick polishing. Of course the teacher discovered him and he got expelled. Professor X was scared for his girls so he sent Jojo away from home.

But it was too late, Jojo had already corrupted the girls. Their nicknames? Blossom? Bubbles? Buttercup? They are stripper names from Monkey Sluts. (The real names of the girls are Funke, Halimot and Tolani) and Jojo was already molesting the girls in a game of Monkey-See-Monkey-Do, a sort of do-as-I-do for apes. They also played Mummy and Daddy and Change-Your-Style and After-Round-One and a lot of other perverted versions of innocent children’s games. T

Some S&M right there...

*Sips universal solvent*

When Professor X sent Jojo away, he was sad that he wouldn’t see the girls again so anytime he’s pretending like he wants to take over the world, he just wants to see the girls for a good dose of violent loving. See how he’s always naked after they’re done with him? See?

Another clue is that whenever the girls battle real monsters, they throw them out of the city but they’ve never done that to Mojo. They just do him in and leave him on the street. Did you ever watch the episode that he tied the three girls up in his evil lair? Need I say more? Incest? S&M?

I’m only doing business with that fake nucca because the money is good. All the ACME stuff he buys from me? Especially after a fresh defeat? Le Sigh.

Another Sponsors’ SIDE NOTE:

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Thing is I’m tired of all these fake villains who aren’t really serious about what they do but I have a plan. When I make enough money from their loser asses, I plan to take over the world!

Be afraid, be very afraid.

Yet another sponsors’ SIDE NOTE:

Err… We sell all sorts of villainy costumes for your very good bad guy impressions (We have spandex but it’s not in fashion anymore but we can outfit you in glossy, metallic looking costumes; capes; hats; boots; belts; goggles; arm and leg bands; masks; chrome wear; assortments of denim; stretch wear; costumes with killer gadgets; and all those unnecessary accessories ++ all with your custom logo which our in-house graphic artist can also design for a fee if you don’t already have one)

The Sinister Savant.

The more you know the more you know not

Today’s post is written by @Griffinstreaks. I no dey there o!


My fingers keep on tapping the arm of my seat nervously. I don’t really know why I’m trying to do this but by all indications it seems like it’s the only way.

It’s been months since I consciously allowed myself let go like I am about to do right now.

For more than one reason I’ve kept him hidden and locked up in the recesses of my mind, merely tapping from his loose moral wit on the rare
occasion. But today I have reached a threshold, a point where I know I need tofully harness him. This means I must learn to tame him, to do so I must first learn the most difficult part of it all; how to access him.

I talk about a part of me rarely seen, heard or read about in recent months. Some people call it an alter ego, others say its multiple
personality disorder. I honestly don’t know what to call it.

I was inspired by @banxman & @slimsiren’s post about ‘The Darkness’ (not sure if I got that right).

In order to stop me from going on a harmful rampage, I have decided, obviously to perform this first exercise supervised, I won’t be the
person typing away at the keyboard, but whatever you read here will definitely be my words or rather ‘his’ words.

I am Griffin.


I’ve already carried out the necessary rituals I believe will most likely force him out of the dark recesses which I have forcefully confined him to. It’s a simple process actually I’m listening to his favorite song, (Breath & Stop: Q-Tip) and I just finished reading one of  his best novels (How almost every Top secret was discovered). Google the author, I forget.

So now I wait. I’m sitting on a chair in a dimly lit room, its 8:00AM; my usual cup of coffee is right beside me. I look across the room and I observe my supervisor, he’s trying so hard to hide his amusement. It’s obvious he doesn’t believe in my exercise, simply indulging me due to lack of more amusing activity.

I’m trying to focus. I sit there quietly, the room is eerily quiet except for aslight hum in my ear…

I wait.

Try to empty my thoughts…

I wait a while, I begin to hear a mocking voice from within, as if someone is strutting around in my head, a voice laced with the thickest sarcasm hums a tune to Notorious B.I.G’s ‘f*&king you tonight’. All the while my fingers double their speed as I keep on tapping the armrest. In seconds it all feels  blurry…
I zone out.

Exit right, Enter LEFT...

Cheeky bastard decides to let me out after 9 months and 24 days right, what nonsense!

To imagine he hasn’t gained or learned any improved lessons in self grooming or dressing is putting the matter slightly, who ever told him getting a hair cut was a good idea should be shot. Five times for lying and another 5 times for being blind, shot in the arse just because i think it’ s awesome.

Then there’s this terrible looking cup of coffee he has by the chair. What on earth does this man want to do with this body of mine? Caffeinate me to death?!

I’m definitely not going back to that damp squib of a mind of his, I’m back for good…

Oh My God! What is this I’m wearing?

Whatever his plans were from the beginning I’m sure glad I’m out to correct all of this, excuse me for a few

*leaves the room for a few minutes and returns wearing a cravat and silk pajamas holding a glass of merlot*

He looks disgustingly at the supervisor who is beside himself.

Wonder why this gnat is still here. I’d prefer to be alone thank you.


Supervisor sits there, motionless. His eyes barely blinking, he conveys the perfect illustration of comical shock.

Oh well, since he’s got blown fuses for brains I might as well see how well they function.

Just in case you’re dumb enough not to have realised. Griffin ain’ t here no more. 

*lights cigarette*

Who am I? You might wonder. Well I’m far from your worst night mare, but I’ve been known to assist not a handful of people question
their sanity.

Here are some clues; I use similar words as that mad excuse for a blogger you all keep on cooing and whelping about.

What?! Not the @thetoolsman! No way! Any time Griffin reads that blog it leaves his brain in a soggy state, quite despicable state I tell you.

I’m talking about Larry you idiots! *sigh*

University, I fear, was a mis-education for some of you and no, I cannot help you.

Mingy Maggots.


My entertainment value might be substantially appreciated but staring at me for free is downright perverted. Where does Griffin get these people from?

So while I’ve been gone, the only thing griffin’s been able to do is… *looks around* Nothing! Dude has been as useless as expired rice, Abakaliki rice for that matter.

So I wonder why he locked me away in the first place. The things I saw *sigh*. Things I wished I had been there for. Like the day he
met @novacrossqueen. He just kept staring, whereas If it was me, I’d have made sure she gave birth to my first set of triplets.

*sips Merlot*

Look at what he managed to do to all my runs! Ending them or not keeping in touch with the rest of them, now I’ve been reduced to a bout of chronic monogamy. Or did anything happen to my McFly

*grabs member, feels member*

The gods are surely with him on this one, because if I had seen anything out of place then there would have
been Armageddon up in this binsh.

Yeah, I call my member Mcfly, got a better name for yours?

I remember the day this entire BS started; Griffin had picked up a copy of Uncle Wole’s ‘The man died’…. Let’s just say that by the time he had gone past 6 chapters, the last meaningful thing I could do was hide the book somewhere. The clueless fruit has no idea where I kept it till today.

How a normal human being would decide to read such a book while nursing a chronic hangover leaves me wondering if there’s anything suicidal about Griffin’s nature, no doubt I have my suspicions, considering his many attempts at fashion suicide I won’t be surprised if he manages to kill himself someday. I hope the suicide is awesome though. I have a substitute mind to possess already.

I intend to feature much more prominently in these spheres as from now on, since Griffin himself already asked for my help.

*rubbing palms together gleefully*

 I still have not set ‘P’ with any one of you chicks up on twitter or blogville. I hope griffin has a Certification in damage control though.

*gulps remaining merlot*

*Slum Village’s ‘Selfish’ humming in the background*

I’m sure we’ll run into each other sooner than y’all expect. Till then… My name is Johnny.




I open my eyes and I have a strange feeling about me. I am still sitting in the same position I was a while ago, in
the same room. But my clothes are different.

I smell tobacco and I look at the side table beside me, instead of my usual cup of coffee, I find a glass of Merlot and a pack of B
& H with about 6 cigarette butts in an ash tray.

That isn’t the most amusing thing in the room though, right in front of me is my supervisor, bound hand and foot with ropes behind his back,
gagged with a single sock and a pink post-it note pasted over his fore-head with
the words

‘Get rid of this hapless fruit will you…’

Shit! Johnny was here…

This was sent in by a very good friend of mine Tare. @Fluis10 on twitter.

It is an ode of some sort to a wonderful friend and a great guy who will be sorely missed by friends and acquaintances alike.

We woke up to very sad news this morning. News of the demise of someone very close to all of us.

Chuka Okeke.

"C for Chuka"


It was 22:30 on Monday 20th June, 2011 when I got the call.

She was wailing, incoherent and inaudible. When I finally made out what she was saying I was sure she was confused, either that or she was joking; the wrong type of joke at the wrong time.

I made two other calls and then I knew it was true. Twenty minutes  later, I was in their house. The house where I had been a million times before. The house where he had lived for as long as I had known him, but surely as the news had come, he was not there.

A house where there had always been joy and laughter was cold; Life had literally been sucked out of it and death had encompassed the place. All you could hear was wailing.

Why will she not wail? She has lost a companion, a friend…a BROTHER!

As a man, you have to be strong at times like these, especially for the women. I saw my friend in an obviously dazed state. He probably got the news long before others, but it had obviously not hit him yet. Less than 24 hours before we had been talking; plans were being made to travel, to show support to our friend and his family at a joyous occasion. A wedding and now that trip will be pushed forward for all the wrong reasons.

My friend was receiving calls and seemed to be okay which seemed to torment others. Then he made a particular call and I saw him breakdown.  I saw the grief within him come out. To us he may have been a friend, but to him, he was a brother. They had grown up together and this was not how the story was to end.

Where was the celebration? Each, the  others best man at their respective weddings.

Where were the children and grand-children? A dream they had repeatedly shared with each other.

Why should he not grieve?

He had lost a companion, a friend…BROTHER! In short in his case, he had just lost an entire FUTURE!!!

In our human understanding we don’t know why. We fear to question GOD or to ask HIM why, but in our minds we think it.

We feel it could not possibly have been his time, not this one, not this guy.

So reliable, so humble and so down-to-earth. If you met him and didn’t like him, there was obviously something wrong with you.

From the house to the clubs, to the parks, to the gardens, the restaurants to the bukkas, Chicken republic or the corner shops in Gwarinpa, back to the house; he was real.

He was funny, loyal and honest.

Why will we not miss him? We have lost a good companion, a true friend and a loyal COMRADE!

Even in our grief, in our loss, we should remember his family.

Not us who may have surrounded him day-to-day especially during his time in Abuja or at UniJos. Not those on his BBM or the people following him on twitter.

I mean his immediate family.

The Okekes who brought him into this world. Who nurtured him and moulded him into the man that we all love so much. The ones who supported his dreams and aspirations with words and finances, the people he spent his last days with. We shall be grateful to GOD that he was able to spend those last days with them at such a wonderful occasion (His sister’s traditional marriage ceremony).

We seek GOD’s consolation upon their hearts and soul.

For they shall, grieve, they shall wail and they shall miss and why should they not?

They have lost a BROTHER, a SON and a bright FUTURE.

They deserve your prayers. Please say a silent prayer for them.

My friend Chuka Okeke is gone.

Gone to the flames of a burning vehicle. He was loved by many and will be missed by us all. I know he would want us to be happy, but there is no happiness in this. He has departed from us at a time we all feel is not the right time, but GOD alone knows the right time.

C for Chuka…Rest in Peace. “T for Tare” is definitely going to miss you…


Side Note: Chuka did not die alone in this accident. He went along with his younger sister Uchenna, and three other occupants including the driver. Bright stars dimmed too early.

I remember when i first met him about seven years ago, I was encouraging him to help finish a bottle of Guiness because i was in a hurry and we wanted to go some place together. He politely declined. We went on to become good friends from then on. A very likeable character with such a bright future. This one didn’t deserve to die.

They say the good die young so they can get to Heaven early…

Rest in Peace friend.