Sunday, 05 September 2021 05:53

And stop press leads to stop ironing - Tatalo Alamu

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The last time Okon Anthony Okon was sighted around Mende, he was colourfully dressed and heading for a famous Laundromat in Ikeja. When he was asked about his mission, the impossible boy shot back: “I wan reach dem Washaman for Ikeja. Dem Baba Lekki tell me say dem don take Baba Abiku to cleaners for him mad yabis against dem gobment. So, I wan reach dem people before dem put Abiku inside dem big rolling garawa, or him kaput be dat.”

After an evening spent consuming some strong stuff at a birthday party in Yaba, snooper arrived home determined to squeeze this development in this column. But columnist knocked off right in front of the computer barely able to finish with: Stop Press. Dragging himself to the bedroom, snooper sank into a celestial slumber hoping to resume in the morning after the situation improved. But later in the morning yours sincerely arrived downstairs to be greeted by a scene of apocalyptic chaos. The clothes had been left in disarray on the iron board without being ironed.

When the crazy boy returned from the market and was confronted, he shot back. “Oga, no be you put stop press for dem computer last night, abi wetin stop press mean again?” End of conversation. Snooper retreats with his rumpled tail shirt blazing from Okon’s verbal bazooka.

 

Okon deregulates breakfast

Yesterday, Okon struck again in the most unlikely of holy places. Snooper was looking forward to a great breakfast of sausage, ham, liver, omelette and fresh toasted bread. In the event, the breakfast was a comprehensive fiasco. The cereal tasted like saw weed, the sausage looked like the pallid fingers of a domestic monkey, the bread haggard and unkempt and the liver tasted like the boiled blood of wild cat.

“Okon what is going on here? What type of breakfast is this?” snooper screamed at the mad boy.

“Oga abi you never hear say dem don deregulate market?” Okon asked with a savage smile.

“Is that why you want to kill me?” snooper shouted at the mad boy.

“Oga no be me wan kill una. Na dem gobment. Crate of egg na two thousand”, Okon began. “I asked dem yeye women whether na Ogongo egg sef”, Okon sniggered.

“And this rubbish?” snooper asked, pointing at the purported liver.

“Na better liver. But wait oooo. He fit be human liver sef. Na Ejimofor sell me dat one”, the mad boy croaked. In anger and alarm, snooper aimed a wild blow at the lunatic which he ducked with professional expertise.

“May God punish your mother!!” snooper cursed

“Oga, dem mala and dem gobment dey punish mama pass God. Dem they thief money and dem dey thief dem vote”, Okon noted with a devilish smile.

“Come Okon”, snooper began in total exasperation as he took a second dive at the rancid omelette with a fork. “Even if egg is ten thousand, what type of omelette is this? Didn’t you complain to the women?”

“Oga I complain so tey, but dem mad women say dem go call dem Market Force make im come finish Okon. Dem say Market Force na ogbologbo asinwin and him don kill ten market people already. So, I tell them say I no dey understand dem yeye gobment at all.. Dem dey deregulate everything, but dem no fit deregulate common election, dem still dey regulate for that one.”

“So?”snooper hissed in disgust and indignation.

“So, dem Road Safety people come arrest Okon for illegal parking. I come tell dem fools say I no get motor but dem say na my mouth. Sebi your stupid mouth dey dance belebele about government, abi? Naim I come remove my clothes for dem thieves like dem mad Market Force. Naim dem come come run, naim I come pick race too”.

  • First published in May, 2009

 

The Nation