The Ties That Unbind

To have and to hold from this day forward,
for better, for worse,
for richer, for poorer,
in sickness and in health,
to love and to cherish,
until we are parted by death.

Famous last words, i say........ Famous last words.

A little over six years ago, a friend from my boarding school days got married to his sweetheart, they had known each other for years. As fate would have it they fell in love and decided to spend the rest of their lives together. I admit, i can be a little cynical on the odd occasion, but i truly was hopeful that i was observing the real thing. The wedding was for all intents and purposes a great spectacle. The flower arrangements were perfect, the catering was excellent and the overworked wedding planner truly earned her wages whilst attempting to cater to the whims and caprices of all the big men and women in attendance. They were a truly beautiful couple, he in a black suit, she in a white dress standing in a gazebo on the grounds of one of the nicest hotels i had ever seen. It truly was a sight to behold.

He gave a stirring speech about love, his hopes for the future and his gratitude to the fates for crossing his path with hers. He closed his speech with an emotional recitation of Juke Box Love Song by Langston Hughes, she appeared to wipe a tear from her left eye (considering the fact that she spent a great deal of time having her makeup done that morning, i feel that particular action was performed for dramatic effect. She smiled and hugged her husband deeply. She took the microphone, gave her speech, thanked her parents for raising her and sacrificing a great deal for her (families sure know how to put up a good act in such circumstances). She spoke of how herself and her new husband met at a dance in Sussex(in reality they knew one another in Nigeria prior to moving abroad, and were initially sworn enemies). She ended her work of fiction by reciting A Magic Moment I Remember by Alexander Pushkin.

Think about it, He recited Hughes she read Pushkin, Harlem Renaissance mixed with Romanticism, Moscow on The Hudson, like the cold war never existed. I should have read the omens and realised that their union was doomed, but i remained hopeful. Against this backdrop of hope, hope for a new beginning for them, hope for the future and hope that maybe one day we will all experience true love; we ushered them into matrimony.

The Seven Year Itch (or six in their case)

Fast forward six years, The phone rings. I pick it up.

“Boorish?” the voice says. “It's ......"

"Can we talk"?
"Definitely"
"Boorish, he cant measure up".
"How so?"
"I go out and i meet men that i have more in common with"
"You know i think you are a coquette"
"And?"
"Well maybe you should flirt less".
"Why wouldn't I"?
"He doesn't make an effort with his appearance?"
"I resent the fact that I have to support him financially".
"I was raised with money, and i am used to a certain standard of life".
"I think i am going to leave him".

Unfortunately, she made good her threat and moved on with her life, he is embittered by the whole experience and is quick to tell the world about this evil, materialistic bitch that left him high and dry, with out a pot to piss in. It is easy to vilify the woman in such circumstances, but the truth is that we all have a vision for ourselves and i am sure that if thinfgs were better for him financially and otherwise, she would have been a good wife to him. If his career has carried on its initial trajectory, chances are she would not have left him. If she didn't have to dig into her pockets to keep the home, she might not have been quite so frustrated, and if he hadn't resorted to comfort eating he would not look quite so bovine and maybe they would have some semblance of a sex life.

We all have standards, hopes and aspirations. Maybe we will achieve them and maybe we wont. The truth is that we all have one life to live, and i can see how if she didn't make the jump she would have ended up frustrated and resentful. i am not condoning her actions, i am simply experienced enough to understand where she is coming from. Love comes with conditions, they had a deal, he promised to take care of her, and unfortunately it did not work out that way. I do not see why any man should take a woman out of the relative comfort of her fathers home and make her suffer with you. She might enjoy the thought of struggling with her man, but the reality of it will most probably overwhelm her.

Her situation is a mixture of a number of factors, the seven year itch, her in inherrent narcissism, a downturn in his fortunes and her inability to compromise. As far as i am concerned, she does not deserve to be vilified, that is the person that she is, and he was well aware of it before he married her. He was on a strict time frame and unfortunately she chose to withdraw her favours.

She would have been a good wife in different circumstances, I guess she was not in an enabling environment......

What do you think?

Do What Thou Wilt.

On Self-Knowledge

Your hearts know in silence the secrets of the days and the nights.
But your ears thirst for the sound of your heart's knowledge.
You would know in words that which you have always known in thought.
You would touch with your fingers the naked body of your dreams.
Kahlil Gibran



I am a firm believer in leaving people to chose their path, would there have been a Michael Jackson if his folks had forced him to become a proctologist? How would Shakespere have fared tilling the fields of Stratford upon avon? Not very well I think, it is a waste of time attempting to turn Rudulf Nureyev into Ato Boldon, so hands off and let the youth be. For a long time I repeated this mantra, however; a recent experience made my belief somewhat shaky.


“Boorish please you have to counsel your young cousin, he has gone mad”
“What is the problem this time”
“He will not kill me o”
“Aunty I sincerely hope he doesn’t kill you” said Boorish trying hard to disguise his irritation”.
“Boorish, my son wants to become a drug addicted, womanizing singer”.
“Nothing wrong with that, in so far as it is his true calling”.
“But he cannot sing”.
“Ok aunty, I will speak to him”.

I initially thought nothing of the exchange between my aunt and myself, after all maybe she mistook his rapping for singing, or maybe he is an instrumentalist. I put a call through to him and made an appointment for us to meet for drinks at my local speakeasy. The day came, I arrived early, ordered myself a bit to eat a draught lager and a double calvados to chase it. No sooner had I settled down to eat did I hear a rather high pitched voice squeal “there you are uncle Boorish, as handsome as ever”. I do not relish being called uncle, sir, egbon, oga or any thing such thing. I turned around and much to my surprise, there stood my young cousin, looking somewhat different.

I remembered my cousin as your typical rough and tumble teen, with a whole load of mischief in him. It was rather disconcerting reconciling the creature before me. My cousin had morphed into a rather effete young man wearing skinny jeans, pointed boots, a cravat, braided hair, a Turkish chain and a pair of thumb rings. I am not one to judge; after all I was a dread at some point. I asked him to sit down and asked him what he wanted to drink.

“I’ll have a cosmo”
“A what?”
“A cosmopolitan uncle”
“Call me boorish”.
“Ok Boorish, a cosmo is a cool cocktail”.
“Look kid I was once heavy in the dating game, I know what the hell a cosmo is”.
“So there is no problem”.
“I hear you are into music now”
“Yes I am” He said as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of More cigarettes.
“You smoke Mores”
“I love the way they are so slender and easy to smoke”.
“What do I care how you like your eggs fried”.
“Exactly”.
“What genre of music are you into?”
“I am into gospel music, have a listen."

He handed me his ear phones, I popped them into my ears as I noticed that his I-pod was pimped out with Swarovski crystals. I listened to three tracks and gave him my verdict.


“I am not convinced that you have a future in music”
“What do you mean”
“Gospel Makossa?”
“It is innovative”.
“I can see the innovation, but can you truly justify telling people to scatter nyansh for Jesus”?
“Do you think I should have told them to, galala instead”?

I looked at his face, and the poor boy was close to tears, I wondered if I would be right to crush his dream, and break his spirit. I was between a rock and a very hard place. I looked into his eyes and beyond the mascara and eye liner laid passion. Passion for life and for gospel makossa. The foolish passion that comes with youth, the foolish passion tells you that anything is possible. The passion that great men fight to keep all their lives. The passion that causes men to try and keep trying till they achieve their dreams. I looked into his eyes and I understood.


“Scatter nyansh for Jesus is just fine my friend”.


We drank, we ate, and I saw that the young chap was simply being himself, he has only one life to live and who am I to tell him who to be, how to think and how best to live his life. Maybe gospel makossa will one day compel young people around the world to drop down and get their eagle on. Maybe it will be the greatest flop in history. It is all in the hands of the Gods, but at least the young man gave it a shot.
Meeting him again brought it home that the future is ours to dare to invent.


If you have a dream, don’t let it die, if your heart tells you something, listen to it. Risk it all and be; be the person that you know know yourself to be and turn your back to those that say you can’t.


And to all the parents out there:

The poem below was written by Kahlil Gibran a man i consider one of Gods gifts to mankind. He was the artist that painted the work of art above.



On Children

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let our bending in the archer's hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.


Kahlil Gibran

Au Naturel

"Boorish call my cousin", said my fried.
"I think you two will get along"
OK, I'll call, give me her number".


Call I did, and the initial conversation lasted for hours, in the following week, our conversations got deeper, friendlier, more frivolous at times and laced with a fair amount of innuendo. On a Thursday, we agreed to have the our first shag session over the weekend. As we were both rather young (she was 23 and I was 21)we had THAT conversation.


"Boxers or briefs boorish"? She asked brimming with anticipation.

"Either boxers, tighty whiteys or I just let it all hang".

"Thongs or french knickers?" Asked Boorish as he wished under his breath that she would NOT say thongs.

"I wear big, cotton, granny panties."

"You are so funny" said Boorish, appreciating her sense of humour.

"What about grooming?" Boorish asked

""How so"

"Do you have a little Mohawk down there"? "Maybe a little runway?" "Or do you go for the bald eagle look?"

"I like it Au naturel" She said.

I hoped to god that she wasn't serious, and with a strange mix of anticipation and trepidation, I awaited the weekend.

The weekend came and i finally got to see her, she was attractive enough and appeared to take good care of herself. I hugged her and took a sneaky pick at her ears.

No ear wax, clean nails and her braids aren't stinky". Boorish thought as he let her into his student flat.

Boorish wasn't one to waste much time, after all she was there for a weekend long shag session; so they got to it. I could smell a trace of her shower gel, her perfume was fruity and rather delicious, her lips were soft and her touch was absolutely mind blowing. We has a twenty minute foreplay session and we dry humped each other a fair bit. The clothes were off and we were down to our underwear, I took a look and realised that she told me the truth about the granny underwear.


"Bloody hell, those panties look almost as old as I am".


I kissed her lightly from her neck down to her belly button and could not help but notice a strange bulge in her crotch.

"Looks like something isn't quite right"

I grabbed the thick elastic strings of her cheap cotton, moth eaten Mickey Mouse panties and pulled them down.

"Kai, haba, damn, shit".


I screamed as something that looked like a cross between a rat and a grizzly bear sprung forth from her underwear.

The creature jumped out at me with the eagerness of a runaway slave


Her bush was was the size of Angela Davis's Afro.

"What the hell is this?"

"I told you, I like it Au naturel".

I found out that she had never trimmed her bush in all her years on earth. It was a horrid sight and it spread every where, down her thighs, up her stomach, it looked like a huge hairy oil slick.

"This is not good enough".

"But I might get shaving bumps".

"Since you never did attempt to shave or trim, you don't know that for sure".

"You hate me, you find me disgusting, you are so mean."


I wondered if she expected me to feel sorry for her, so i left her to her own devices and went of to sleep on the couch.

She left the next morning and still speaks of how mean I was to her.

Au naturel? Now that takes the piss.

Matrimony? Maybe

Another day, another wedding.





Another victory parade for the bride.

Another groom sacrificing his liberty.

Another man submitting to the whims and caprices of an in-house dictator.

Another woman morphs into a bedroom terrorist.


Maybe I eventually will get married, maybe I'll do Vegas. Maybe it will be your typical stylised Nigerian wedding, where at the reception the dashing groom(at least in my case) dances in with the bride. The bride in her excitement at finally having her victory parade, throws all convention to the wind and proves that the stereotype of the demure bride is nothing but bullshit. She then proceeds shake her girdle supported ass whilst pretending to dance the "YAHOOZEE", but in reality she is holding her diamond ring (in reality it is a cubic zirconia, but what the hell. It looks good)up in the air in order to spite all the single women in the crowd.

"YOU CAN HATE ME BITCHES"

"BUT I HAVE A SLAVE NOW"

"I WILL CONDEMN HIS ASS TO A LIFE OF SERVITUDE"

"I WILL SEE TO IT THAT HE WORKS HIMSELF TO THE BONE TO SUPPORT ME AND MY (not his) CHILDREN".


Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against marriage, and even the brides are not quite as monstrous as I paint them. The only issue for me is that most women don't wish to be married, all they wish for is a wedding. They want to wear the white dress (even though they ought to wear any colour other than white), and partake in the pathetic, spectacle that they have reduced the marriage ceremony to.

I remember a conversation I had once.


"My friend is so lucky"

"How so?" i asked, attempting to feign interest.

"She met her husband six months ago, at a wedding reception, and he said to himself that the next good looking girl that walks through the door will be my wife. And then my friend walks in".

"What if they are not compatible?"

"Who cares?"

"Pardon me?"

"Look Boorish, it is every woman's dream to me married, and have her big day".


Her friend, did in fact have her big day, so big and tasteless it was that there were belly dancers at the reception, and famous comic rehashing some old lines. All the supposed society people were there and they all had a big ball. Unfortunately the break up of the marriage was so dramatic (more like apocalyptic)that was more talked about than their carnival of a marriage.


Happy ever afters? we'll see.


Matrimony? Maybe.

Let's Go Together

Hey, what is in a one night stand?

Much ado about nothing I say.


CIRCA 2006 DECEMBER:

"Boorish I saw you leave the party with my fiancee's friend"

"I have to stop my future wife freom associating with her"

"Put yourself underfoot my dear fiend" Said boorish as he lit up his last cigarette for the night.

"There is nothing wrong with what happened, you ought to respect her for her lack of hipocrisy".

That night, the drums were beating, copious amounts of alcohol were consumed and the passions were flowing.

We shared a few innuendo ladden conversations, flirted, laughed, smiled, danced and knew that all things being equal, we would end the night with a bit of passion. Two consenting adults deciding to sleep with one another. What could be more beautiful than that?

Alas, we are hypocritical in our views of these sorts of things. Why is it that men view all women as cheap (except the women that we chose to marry)?

I wonder wht we compell our women to lie to us about their pecaddilloes and experiences, and then we end up spitting fire and brimstone when we find our wives playing a rusty trombone on Ishiaku the maiguard.

Think my friend, it is no big deal, I'd much rather deal with a woman that makes her intentions known from the start, as opposed to playing the sweet innocent wifey.......................


so if it feels right, lets go together.


Will be back properly soon.

Something for the fellas

Hey there, how are we doing? It sure has been a while. As usual I've been keeping busy, and trying to seek clarity in this cold harsh world of ours. I try to love all of Gods creations, but I must warn you all to keep far away from the creature that threatens civilisation as we know it this evil being is known as

THE BITTER WOMAN.....

OK sweetheart, I understand that it could not have been easy growing up being so ugly in a world where beauty is so coveted. Take heart, just because your pockmarked face looks like someone danced the Charleston on it, whilst wearing a pair of golf cleats doesn't mean you have to share the pain. I know it isn't easy being ugly, you cannot help the fact that you look like a cross between sasquatch , Star Jones and Amy Winehouse on a bad hair day. does not mean that you have to be at odds with all that is fair and beautiful in this world. I am sure that underneath that unfortunate exterior lies a good heart.........

Let the bitterness go.

So what if you are unlucky in love, you wonder why you cant keep a man, you ask yourself why your friends are all married and you are stuck dealing with men that screw you, and can't wait to be far away from you not too long after the act.

According to you:

"Men are bastards"

"I don't need a man, my vibrator never fails"

"Life must be easier being gay"



Have you stopped for a minute to wonder if the problem might not be the guys? If you have failed in all attempts at relationships, do you not think that there is something wrong with you?

OK babe, when one really thinks about it, considering the standard of men today, maybe your vibrator would work best.





Don't be offended ladies, I was just kidding.........

Hey fellas, I have to ask you something. What is your obsession with thongs. I do not find them sexy at all. What is so mind blowing about the sight of that strip of gabardine (maybe even denim, khaki or nylon) riding up the crack of her shitter? When I see a thong I think wobbly squidgy butt cheeks, cellulite infested, stretch marked skin. I think skid marks, dangleberries or even worse dingleberries.

Think about it fellas........

It aint pretty.


Just some mindless rambling.................


Will be back properly soon.

Sex and The Single Bloke (On Doublethink)

"Doublethink means the power of holding two contradictory beliefs in one's mind simultaneously, and accepting both of them". - George Orwell.

The devil himself Niccolo Machiavelli once postulated that one should never enter an aliance with another more powerful than ones self. Very deep words i must say, whilst he was speaking of realpolitik I have put a spin on things and have chosen to speak of relationships (what else is new ;-).

Imagine being in a relationship with a person so much smarter than yourself, a person that read you easily from day one. A person that immediately recognised your needs, influences and biases; and then manipulated them to his or her benefit. Human beings are impressionable and deeply insecure. It is the simplest thing to influence another to hang on your every word and throw aside all logic and common sense inspite of the truth that is staring them in their face.

She loves him and would do all in her power to keep him, he is well aware of this and knows that he is all that she lives for, rather than be inspired by her devotion he becomes complacent and seeks out more exciting possibillities. He cheats openly and constantly, he plays on her emotions, makes her cry at will, does subtle things to make her jealous, keeps her mind occupied, hurts her intentionally and when she is on the verge of finally asserting herself he overwhelms her with kindness, romance and a few furious shagging sessions. Control and manipulation are the tools of is trade. She is aware that he is wrong for her, but still believes that he is her knight in shining armour. Why is this happening? She is doublethinking...............

Some might say that he is being smart, others might call him a bastard, but i contend that such people should be pitied. The way a person treats another is a reflection of the battles raging within them; ergo it is a deep insecurity that drives such a person to try to exert such control over another, and likewise insecurity makes another so impressionable as to be controlled. I have been in situations where i have been guilty of double think (i guess we all have), I too have fallen victim to manipulative women (albeit not for very long...) I have been guilty of manipulating others as well. I am truly happy that I no longer do such, however i have become rather guarded as a result of what i have done and what i have observed.

Ignorance is Bliss

I have become very observant and somewhat suspicious of ther peoples motives, due to my rather calculating nature I analyse every possible outcome before I make any move, it has it's good (i am not usually prone to being manipulated into doublethinking), ergo I prevent myself from ever truly riding the crest of a wave and letting myself go.................

Therein lies the rub.

Is anyone ever truly on your side? Or are they merely being self serving? Is it better to be a fool in love or a wise person that's lonely? She loves me, but what are her motives? Can this be love?

Maybe my efforts at not being weak or vulnerable might cost me a great deal of happiness in my life. Maybe we all need to be foolish to be in love and happy.........................

Maybe I am just as guilty of doublethink as others.





Hope your holiday was as great as mine...........

I have entered a new chapter in my life, I have come full circle and I'm back to being the gregarious boorish that is loved by many. will have to tell you about this soon.