Cocktail (2)

I’ve slowly been improving my cocktail preparation repertoire (mostly by using myself as a guinea pig and also by serving my experiments at several social functions where the general consensus has so far been positive) and I would like to believe I have now reached a stage where I can refer to myself as a reasonably skilled amateur without any measure of remorse. Having created a few cocktails of my own (mostly interesting variants of already existing cocktails but with a twist and in some cases a violent kick), I think its time I started recording them. Knowing how poor my own memory is, I’m sure I will begin to forget if I don’t.

In case you are completely oblivious to what cocktails are or why they are so awesome, refer to:  Cocktail

So, first I will detail a few not-so-popular classics which I have just perfected or discovered and which I find delightful, then afterwards, I will detail the preparation schemes of some of my originals.

Shall we begin?




A) The Harvey Wallbanger  

Allegedly invented in 1952 by Donato ‘Duke’ Antone, the Harvey Wallbanger was made famous by Galliano salesman. And now I am sure you are wondering what Galliano is.

Liquore Galliano L’Autentico, known more commonly as Galliano, contains vanilla, anise, ginger, citrus, juniper, musk yarrow, and lavender. It has a beautiful, vivid yellow color, that is apparently symbolic of the 1890 gold rush but which I find more reminiscent of a the color of emotion one would feel on a bright, sunny afternoon, surrounded by great friends.

Legend has it that the Harvey Wallbanger was named after a Manhattan Beach surfer named Harvey who became a regular patron of Duke’s ‘Blackwatch’ Bar in Hollywood during the early 1950s. True or not, one cannot escape the feelings of Sun and Wealth that come with the Wallbanger.

I must let you know that it is an acquired taste and although I have about 90% favorable feedback on this drink, a few people have complained that it was not to their liking.

To make the Harvey Wallbanger…

You will need:

Vodka, Fresh orange juice, Galliano vanilla liqueur, Ice.

You will do:  

1. Pour 1 part Vodka and 3 parts Orange Juice into a Glass filled with ice

2. Carefully float the Galliano on top over the back of a spoon ( i.e. use the spoon to cover the mix and then pour in Galliano slowly)

3. Garnish the glass with a slice of orange and serve.

The Harvey Wallbanger

B) The Whiskey Dry

I’m sure by now anyone who has ever been to a club has tried the very popular and quite frankly underwhelming Jack Daniels whiskey and coke mixture. I won’t knock the Jack and coke ( or JD and Coke) hustle but the truth must be told and that truth is that Whiskey and Coke is the poor cousin of the whiskey dry. the Whiskey dry is a gentleman’s drink that apparently dates back to 15th century France and was made popular by the Frenchmen who emigrated to Canada. It is a simple drin kto make and was introduced to me by my friend Muthu on one of our drinking sprees. In my opinion, a Whiskey Dry  beats a JD and Coke everyday and twice on Sundays.

To make the Whiskey Dry…

You will need:

Whiskey (Jack Daniels will do), and Dry Ginger Ale (or Ginger beer in dire circumstances), Lime (optional)

You will do:  

1. Add whisky into a glass (on the rocks)

2. Top with Dry Ginger Ale

3. Build over ice and toss in a lime wedge.

Whiskey Dry

C) Classic Sangria

Sangria  is not a cocktail per se but it is a wine-based punch typical originally created by the Spanish and very popular with the Spanish and Portuguese. There are several variants but it typically consists of wine, chopped fruit (such as orange, lemon, lime, apple, peach, melon, berries, pineapple, grape and mango), a sweetener, and a small amount of fine spirit. The sweetener may be honey, sugar, syrup, or any fresh fruit juice.

Sangria is tricky to make and I’m sure if you have attended a party where some juvenile attempted to mix wine with ‘punch’ and ended up with something appalling, you know what I mean. I have actually failed at making Sangria myself but there is one very specific method I have used which worked perfectly and I wish to record it here before I forget.

To make Sangria…

You will need:

Red wine (preferably Merlot but I hear Shiraz works well too), Lemons, Oranges, Limes, Sugar, Lemonade, Gin, Strawberries, Pineapples & Ginger ale

You will do:  

1. Pour 1 bottle of wine into a jug and squeeze 1 lemon, 1 orange and 1 lime juices into the wine.

2. Cut up another lemon, lime and orange into small wedges and toss into the jug ( don’t forget to remove the seeds)

3. Add the cut up pieces of pineapple, add 2 table spoons of sugar, then 1/2 a cup of orange juice and one shot of gin (or more if you’re feeling frisky)

4. Take the jug with the mix and keep in the fridge overnight. (This is important, if possible, do it 2 or 3 days ahead of time)

5. When you are ready to serve, add 3 cups of ginger ale, a bowl of chopped strawberries and lots of ice just before serving.





A) Wole’s Woo Woo (The W3)

The classic Archers Woo woo is a fairly popular cocktail and is one of the major selling points on the manifesto of the Archers distillery. They even have the cocktail recipe on the back of the bottle. I perosnally recommend it and it is my ‘go to’ drink when all else fails. It is also extremly deceptive, as the lime in it masks the taste of alcohol very effectively. Have too much of it and before you know it, you’ll be dancing on a table topless screaming “Woo! Woo!”. It is a crowd-pleaser. I am yet to meet anyone I served it to that did not like it. However, I also discovered that with one minor addition, this drink can go from good to great in less than 60 seconds.

To make Wole’s Woo Woo…

You will need:

Vodka, Archers Peach Schnapps, Cranberry juice, Raspberry juice, Fresh Limes and Lemons, Ice

You will do:  

1. Pour the crushed ice/cubes into a jug/blender – as much as desired

2. Pour in 1 part vodka over the ice

3. Pour in 1 part Archers peach schnapps

4. Pour in 1 or 2 (see step 5) parts Cranberry (at this point, if you used 2 parts cranberry, just add some lime wedges and you have made the classic archers woo woo and can stop.

archers woo woo

(To go epic, continue)

5. Go back to step 4, if you added 1 part Cranberry, now add 1 part Raspberry juice.

6. Add a few drops of fresh lemon juice and also squeeze a few drops of fresh lime into the mixture – continue adding both until the taste of the vodka disappears (if that is your nefarious plan).

7. Garnish the glass with a slice of lime and serve.

That’s a me serving the W3 at a shindig. Well… some parts of me anyway.

B) The Delicate Dania

I created this cocktail out of sheer determination to make something that tasted like my friend – Dania’s – personality (Happy birthday DanDan!). I did promise that I would. She is fun but in a subdued way, intelligent and friendly, flirts with sadness while managing to be be mostly cheery all the while being very complicated and very talented. When I began, the only thing I knew for sure was that it would contain coconut rum. After using myself as a guinea pig and almost ending my life via alcohol poisoning, I created this fanciful drink. Which I think is perfecto! Happy birthday again Danny 🙂

To make The Delicate Dania…

You will need:

Malibu Coconut rum, Archers peach schnapps, Vodka, Raspberry juice, Apple juice, Pineapple juice, Fresh Lemon, Ice

You will do:  

1. Pour the crushed ice into a large glass/jug

2. Pour in 1 part Malibu coconut rum over the ice

3. Pour in 1 part Archers peach schnapps

4. Pour in 1 part vodka

5. Add 1 part Raspberry juice

6. Add 1 part Apple juice

7. Add 1 part Pineapple juice

8. Add a few drops of fresh lemon juice

7. Garnish the glass with a slice of lemon and serve.

The Delicate Dania

C) Memories of Mexico

This cocktail is essentially the result of a question I asked myself one day after attending a friend’s birthday at  a Mexican restaurant. the question was: “What would happen if the Harvey Wallbanger had sex with a Tequila Sunrise”. The answer, I discovered, was “It would be bloody well awesome”. Ladies and gentlemen…enjoy. Memories of Mexico.

To make Memories of Mexico…

You will need to go to Mexico, find a specimen of glorious Latin beauty and have a whirlwind romance…. errr… oh, sorry… what I meant to say was…

To make Memories of Mexico…

You will need:

Tequila, Galliano vanilla liqueur, Grenadine syrup, Orange juice, A Fresh Orange, Ice

You will do:  

1. Pour the crushed ice into a tall glass

2. Pour in Tequila over the ice till the glass is about 30% full.

3. Add orange juice till the glass is about 80% full.

4. Float the Galliano on top till the glass is 90% full

5. Pour a little of the grenadine syrup slowly over the entire mixture without shaking it so that it settles nicely for that ‘sunrise’ effect. That should leave you with a glass that is almost full.

6. Garnish the glass with a circular segment of the fresh orange and serve.

Memories of Mexico

That’s all for now. Feel free to try making any of these and let me know how it all turns out for you. There are a few other originals I’m working on. Perhaps next time I shall record the making of the Tequila sunrise and the Caipirinha as well as also detail my latest ideas when I perfect them: The Avengers sunrise, Pimm’s poison, Vengeance, Chocolate suicide and a few other choice suggestions from my comrades in spirit (see what I did there?)


Cheers to the Weekend!

Awesomeness made Flesh (2)

In case you were wondering, that throne is constructed from pure Swag, 344 dragon skeletons and the fabric of your reality.

So… I was talking with a friend two weeks ago about my feeble (and mostly failed) attempts to write science fiction stories.  I was going on and on and about how I had been reading and re-reading a lot of old and new science fiction including the works of Connie Willis, Poul Anderson, Rober Heinlein and the old collection of Hugo-award winning sci-fi short stories (ingeniously called The Hugo winners) which used to be compiled into an anthology and edited by the grand master of the genre… Isaac Asimov, searching for inspiration.

And then she asked me a question that sent tremors through my universe. “who is Isaac Asimov?”. 

I can tell you without any hyperbole whatsoever… Yours truly almost died of shock. How could anyone not know who the great Issac Asimov was? Hian! No! My own personal homie Isaac Asimizzy?! Fo sheezy? Nay!

I shed silent, manly tears of pain and sorrow. 

Manly tears… just like regular tears… but made of transparent, liquid steel

Anyway, after reconstructing the fabric of my collapsed universe, I directed her to Google where information on Isaac Asimov – who is quite possibly the greatest Scientific Author cum All-round general bad-guy to have ever walked the surface of earth – could be found.

For those of you who cannot be bothered to Google the millions and millions of pieces of information on this amazing fellow, I have only have 3 things to say (write) to you:

1) Shame on you. Huge buckets of steaming, piping hot Shame be upon thee.

2) I have saved you the trouble of searching by distilling the epicness that is Signor Isaac into this one slightly-not-so-epic post (just as I did with the Magnificently amazing and volumetrically insane Nikola Tesla), spiced with foul language and hit-and-miss-humor (Because lets face it, everything is a little bit funnier with foul language. Isn’t that right, Chris Rock?).

What the Fuck are you asking me for, nigga? Get the fuck outta here with yo Kunta Kinte ass with that Nigerian prince email scam bullshit. Callin my goddamn name for no goddamn reason

My. Point. Exactly.

3) Read on and be impressed. (Or not, I mean, come on, everybody cant possibly know about this one guy, right? And even if you know, you may just not be impressed by his particular brand of Awesomeness, still… sha read. You have already used up your internet data allocation to open this post, you might as well finish what you started right? You know what they say about quitters not being winners and whatnot) 


I, Asimov

Isaac Asimov whose original name was Isaak Yudovich Ozimov (Go on, tell me that is not the name of a bad guy. Can you even pronouce it without your tongue suffering a tissue hemorrhage? No? Didn’t think so.) was born sometime between October 4, 1919 and January 2, 1920. Nobody knows his actual date of birth and scientists have conjectured that he was the last of an alien race that crashlanded in Russia after his planet exploded… Oh.. wait… that’s a bit like Super…errr.. nevermind.

Awwwwwn! You think we’re from the same planet. That’s really cute. Oh wait… You can actually think with that small brain of yours? Double Cute!

He was an American author (which basically is the equivalent of saying that the Tyrannosaurus Rex was a lizard). Essentially, he is the only writer since God gave his clay staute of Adam CPR,  to have been published in every major category of the Dewey Decimal book recording System. He was one of the greatest and most prolific writers of all time! The guy wrote/edited/contributed to more than 600 books and an estimated 90,000 short stories/letters and postcards (Eat your heart out, Billy Shakespeare). 

I’m sorry, did I give you an impression that he was only an author? Just a writer? I’m sorry, let me correct that little tidbit of unintentional fuckery. PROFESSOR Isaac Asimov was a professor of biochemistry, Vice President of Mensa International  – the association of people whose IQ’s are above the 98th percentile (approximately 149) – basically, yeah, its the association of people that are smart enough to take over the world during their lunch break and get back in time to finish work. The kind of people you generally need Superman or the Avengers to help you keep in check. Yes, he was their Vice-president. He was also president of the American Humanist Association and he has an asteroid and a crater on Mars named in his honor. Go on, tell me… What have you done with your life lately? What do you have named after you?

No Really… tell me. I’d like to know.

Like a benevolent, yet slightly too-cool-for school-bad-ass, he wrote a lot of philosophy, theology and non-fiction material, especially essays and books explaining science and mathematics (to like, you know, retards that couldn’t understand that shit from the prescribed textbooks the first time around). Examples include Asimov’s Guide to Science, the three volume set Understanding PhysicsAsimov’s Chronology of Science and Discovery, as well as works on Astronomy, Mathematics, An explanation of the Bible, William Shakespeare’s writing and Chemistry. But he was perhaps best known for his science fiction stories– his three laws of robotics – a term which he invented by the way, his robot detective novels (which are the basis for that semi-shitty Will smith movie, I , robot) , and his Foundation series – which has been hailed as the best Sci-fi series of all time. His short story ‘Nightfall’ was also voted the best sci-fi short story of all -time. Basically, sci-fi was his hood. Words were his bitches. And he was the greatest pimp to ever raise his hand to the bitches in that hood. And oh, yes… he also wrote murder mysteries, books of limericks, science essays, postcards… A lot of them. In fact, Asimov published over 500 books, all of them awesome.

At this point, I would like to mention that Asimov did not see the inside of a school till he was 6 years old but he taught himself to read at the age of 5. Yes, he taught himself how to read. Like. A. Motherfucking. Boss.

I just tell words what to do, and they obey. Like little bitches.

By his own account and that of his publishers, he also didn’t really revise any of his works. Which means that the stuff you read is pretty well what Asimov formulated first off in his head. His books are incredibly well-written, which implies that he had the whole structure of what he was doing in his head – and then wrote it down. Easily and with a steady flow. Every. Bloody. Time. And. In. Every. Bloody. Genre.

Some people once criticized him for having ‘no’ style, for using simple or ‘bland’ or pedestrian phrasing and for overusing dry-humor in his work. But actually he had a very distinct and specific style, If you have ever read Asimov’s work, you would bloody well know it. the critics were probably just used to reading emo Twilight poppycock and Harry Potter hogwash. Anyway… as he explained it once:

‘I made up my mind long ago to follow one cardinal rule in all my writing—to be clear. I have given up all thought of writing poetically or symbolically or experimentally, or in any of the other modes that might get me a Pulitzer prize. I would write merely clearly and in this way establish a warm relationship between myself and my readers, and as for the professional critics—Well, they can do whatever they wish.’

Hahahaha! Bad guy! See casting…

Allow me to translate for those of you that don’t know how to read between the lines or detect faint traces of sarcasm. What Isaac was saying in essence is:

“Fuck what you think, lil’ bitches. I’m too busy spreading knowledge and enjoying myself to be bothered by small bullshit like layering or symbolism in my writing. If I wanted to be all emo and shit, I could, but I don’t give a flying fuck. I just want you idiots to feel comfortable enough to understand what the fuck I’m telling you. Besides, didn’t you read the previous paragraph? I don’t revise my shit. And for you haters,  – take a flying fuck – is exactly what you should do… off a cliff… but as I stated earlier, I do not give those out so kindly remove your intellectual carcass from my sight, I have books to write.”


My man…

Forgetting what the ignorant critics said, his style was sheer genius. Simple and effective. And it worked. Everything he wrote is so easy to read that it captures the reader effortlessly. In any field. Even his history books are fascinating to read. And Lord knows how difficult it is to make History interesting.

difficult to write an interesting history book you say? I accept your challenge. Please hold onto my PhD in biochemistry for me while I quickly write some of the best selling history books of all time

Besides, all this gives more credence to my theory that he was simply an inter-dimensional, time-traveling, intergalactic monk, spreading knowledge to the dark parts of the universe… like your brain.

After more-or-less singlehandedly inventing the modern sci-fi genre, collecting 14 honorary doctorate degrees, working as a part-time comedian and editor and winning half of the known literary awards in existence, Asimov finally allowed himself to die  in New York City on April 6, 1992. He had initially suffered a heart attack in 1977 but he shrugged that off saying to Death… and I quote: “Meh!”.

However, he required a triple bypass surgery and the incompetent tortoises at the hospital used infected blood during the procedure. Yes that’s right, they gave my homie HIV. Bloody incompetent team of astronomically dense fucktards. Anyway, like the bad-ass he was, he kept the disease at bay for 15 years, basically telling death to “go fuck himself” on a daily basis until he was done writing his books. And then he left our planet to seek out other lifeforms that needed his expertise.

Isaac Asimov was one of those rare multi-talented-super-awesome-genius-bad-asses who could basically do whatever the hell he wanted and be damn good at it too.  He was a Novelist, teacher, researcher, comedian, inventor, humanist, historian, professor, textbook author, soldier and humorist.  While he may not rank in the intellectual/bad-ass leagues of Tesla, Einstein and Hawking, he was everything I admire in a human being – multi-faceted, imaginative, funny, rocking sweet-ass sideburns and most importantly – goddamn bloody awesome.

Asimov = Awesomeness.

The Game

How could the purest and most unlikely of loves beget Armageddon? How could the creator and overseer of the universe have let it happen? It is unfathomable; an abyss of reasoning that reveals no light. And yet, it has occurred.

I am sorry, I ramble.

My name is Michael and I have served at the helm of the Adelphi since the first fall. We, the Adelphi, are warrior angels. When Lucifer first challenged His authority, it was we who stared him down. We were the ones that fought him and his band of rebels to the edge of Celestia and threw them off the cliffs of Tiali into the pit of Hades. Ironic then, that it would be one of us that eventually undid the order we had fought so hard to establish and maintain.

He said it was love, the fool. Angels do not fall in love. They fall from grace and into the Pit of Disinheritance as everlasting penance. But it seems the two falls are one and the same. His name was Jardia, a being of valour, and he was the most senior guard on this side of the Eternity gate. You see, the eternity gate was the only pathway through which Lucifer could enter Celestia on those rare occasions when he was summoned to give account of himself. His cunning is limitless and as such, he was always subjected to a rigorous search.

It was on one such visit that he came with her; the demon-whore that stole Jardia’s loyalty. He claimed that they never spoke, that it must have been some sort of divine conspiracy; the mad love that overtook both of them the instant they laid eyes upon each other.

They hid in the caves of Tiali to lay with each other and somehow managed to return undetected. The implosion of Guaitar’s third moon was the only physical manifestation of their forbidden act. I know He saw it, yet kept silent, as He was wont to whenever events of cataclysmic proportions played out. Eventually, Jardia was summoned. When queried, he confessed and even professed his undying love for the whore.

I ordered the Adelphi to cast out their fallen brother but He stayed their hands. He told Jardia that the demon, Krtja was with child. He informed Jardia that Lucifer, fearing for his Kingdom, had decided to destroy Krtja and her unborn spawn by absorbing their essence. Jardia demanded to have his Love delivered from the hands of Morningstar. Demanded! from the Lord of hosts, creator of all that is seen and imagined. His faculty had obviously taken leave of him but the Lord looked past his impudence and simply said the words I would never forget: “I will not save her, but you may try. Go to the eternity gate and attempt her salvation. But know this. Once you cross it, the Kingdom of heaven shall be closed to you for eternity” I listened in shock and horror, itching to slay Jardia where he stood and let Lucifer do the same to Krtja and their hell spawn. I was restrained only by a lack of directive from the Throne.

Jardia agreed to this and crossed the Eternity gate to save his love and her unborn. He was greeted by an army of demons at the gates of hell. We watched from on high, expecting him to be shredded to pieces within moments, but he was possessed by love and fought like one of the Seraphim. I had not seen another fight so powerfully and passionately since the war preceding the fall of Lucifer.

His wings never ceased moving as he went about in a blur, slaying all who stood in his way. His white form was soon buried underneath the fragments of demon souls as rage overtook him. I wondered silently at the power this love seemed to give him. Perhaps this emotion could have been channelled to further the ends of Heaven.He persisted in slaying hell’s army, cutting a path to the centre where Lucifer sat on his throne, Krtja beneath his feet. After what seemed like an eternity of tireless, endless slaughter, Jardia stood before Lucifer in silent challenge. Lucifer offered Jardia “a more excellent” way; fight him for Krtja and the throne of hell. Jardia accepted. It was madness. I knew not why Lucifer made such a proclamation, for there was evidently no trickery in it, but I guessed it was just to drive Jardia to the edge of his rage and do something foolish. Jardia engaged Lucifer and lost his left arm instantly.

The fool.

Lucifer never fought fair. This I had learned the hard way at the battle of Tiali; the lightening scar on my left wing stands as eternal testament. But Jardia learned faster than I did, he had to. With his pain dulled by love, Jardia set upon the Morning Star in a ferocious attack. His strength of purpose of evident by the fervour with which he joined battle with the Morning star. The scales were suddenly tipped in Jardia’s favour when the pregnant and captive krtja broke free of her binds in a violent rage and joined the fray. Lucifer would have destroyed any two celestial creatures in fair duel, but these two were fuelled by a passion that had never been witnessed in Celestia and a rage that the fires of hell could not contend with. After a drawn out display of savagery and bravery from warring parties, Lucifer succumbed eventually to Jardia’s flaming blade. He was vaporized in a display of fire, blood and light as the Angels observed in shock.


When the time was fulfilled, we bore witness from Celestia as they birthed their abomination. I sensed its power and knew I had to destroy it before maturity set upon it. Yet, my hand was stayed. Jardia and Krtja named their seed Asifer and spoke boastfully of how he would become more powerful than the Almighty. I could take no more, this latest insolence finally clouded my senses and I disobeyed Him. I called six of my most trusted Adelphi Seraphim and snuck through the eternity gate into Sheoul.

Through the network of demon sentries and tormented souls, we went undetected, until we reached the subterranean chamber where the demon-child slumbered.

Before we could begin the procedure of slaying it, its mother happened upon us. Muriel was the youngest of us and the most impulsive, when the demon set upon us recklessly, he slew her without thinking. Her death-cry roused the attention of an elite advance guard and the child was spared as we had to flee.

I spent time awaiting reprisal from Jardia or admonition from the Lord but neither came and eventually, I began to forget the matter. Then came the time when I was roused from a meditation by Muriel, now my second-in-command in the Adelphi reporting a disturbance at the Eternity gate. My interest was piqued instantly, for it had been long since anything of note happened there. It had even been sealed on order from the Almighty. Jardia had not stepped foot into heaven all this while, and his realm was all but forgotten.

Fifty of us arrived at the gate to the sight of the slain gate-keepers. The gate to Celestia lay in a wreck, but that what was not drew our attention. Standing in front of the destroyed portal was Jardia, and beside him was the most beautiful and glorious creation I had ever seen.

Asifer, his son.

He was a being of pure light. Nine wings surrounded his great form…and his face…his face was like…like…His face.

It was obvious this wasn’t a courtesy visit, for in Asifer’s hand was a sword that had been bloodied by contact with the gate-keepers. The Adelphi not given to negotiation and as such, we instantly made ready for battle as we went into formation. From behind Asifer came a torrent of Hell’s soldiers, the elite…and battle was joined. Muriel, unthinkingly went straight for Asifer even while I considered the measure of his power, and was cut down with a speed and violence which I can hither to not fathom. His beheaded body was flung in my direction, a sign of contempt.

Our hands were full with the slaying of Hell’s elite warriors, while Asifer and father Jardia flew ostensibly in the direction of the Throne-room. I thought to myself “surely He will strike them down himself for their insolence”. My attention was again drawn to my adversaries, for more soldiers kept joining the battle on both sides, for Alchemel the crier had sounded his gold trumpet. This was War.

The memory of that battle brings dread upon me for it turned out more furious than the battle after Lucifer’s fall. Finally, when we had slain enough of the enemy to give ourselves chance to head towards the Throne-room, we did so in urgency. Wonderment was our lot.

The Throne Room was covered in darkness. This had never been so since I became a transient being. The Almighty was not upon his throne; Asifer was, while Jardia stood beside him with a defiant smile.

For the first time since my creation, I knew fear. The unfathomable had occurred: He was not on his throne and I did not feel His presence. I shouted orders to the valiant Orieni to take half the forces and defend the entrance while I and the rest of the Adelphi elite stayed to do battle with Asifer and his father.

We proceeded, swords aflame, to form a semi-circle and gradually approach the throne, the usurper, Asifer, our target. He remained seated, his father by his side, until we had him at the centre of our advance and then he rose with a great authority and engaged us. His ease of movement and sheer strength was astounding. The battle was most furious. The child was surely a greater adversary than Lucifer had ever been and if we were any fewer in number or less practised in our formation; he would surely have slain us all. Thinking back now, I realized it was not his intention to bring us to our end, for it was within his power. After all, he had dethroned…Him

The speed and power with which he fought was unlike any other in Celestia and more intense than I had seen Jardia wield against Lucifer. It was the manner in which I imagined the Great one himself would engage an enemy. After what seemed to be an age of struggling to hold our ground and keep our lives, defending ourselves from the onslaught, Jardia moved for the first time since the engagement, raising his hand and shouting


Asifer paused mid-swing, launched into the air in a flurry and returned to the throne. I simmered within myself, wishing that He would return and put this insolent demon-spawn in his place. I knew I could not do it on my own and deep within me I feared He was truly gone, fallen at the hands of this thing.

And then Jardia spoke the words that established the peace as it is now “You know all is lost, Michael, you know as I know that my vengeance is complete”. Muriel, who slew my queen, has been seen to and He has been destroyed. Now, I have all of creation in my authority but I do not want it. I shall yield to you Michael. Take this throne and keep your Celestia. I no longer call it home. I shall return home to Sheoul with my son and reign there. Do not interfere in our matters, we administer as we see fit. The old order shall continue as best it can, for I see no reasonable alternative. The damned shall continue to be punished, as the just are rewarded. We shall continue eternity as it was set in motion to be”

My mind circled around something he said

”…He has been destroyed.” How was that even possible? He was the Beginning and the End

As the words took leave of Jardia’s mouth, I ruminated on them and knew in that instant that he spoke the truth and his words seemed to be the only path of reason in this inextricably convoluted maze of madness that we had found ourselves. I looked at the child, Asifer, still seated on HIS throne as I spoke the words.

“Let us make truce…”

And that is how I came to sit uneasily on this throne, overseeing the affairs of Celestia while Jardia sits comfortably on a throne of his own, overseeing the underworld with his son by his side, as I once stood beside the Lord. Every moment of time available to me is spent trying to understand the sequence of events that led to this state of affairs and often, I think back to the words Jardia first uttered when He was summoned to give account of himself after his tryst with the demon-whore.

“It must have been a divine conspiracy”



The image of Michael upon the throne faded as He gestured with his hand. Satisfaction settled upon his features. A new order shall begin here, in this darkness that is Oblivion. Chaos shall reign once again, and from it, order shall manifest. But first, they must draw conclusions about this latest adventure, they must draw conclusion, even for the seventh time.

“A good show you put up during your Fall, Lucifer. If I didn’t know better, I would have believed you really wanted to oust me from that Heaven”.

“Ah, well you did not exactly create idiots. My strength of purpose could not risk being doubted by the Adelphi. It was a close one there at the end too. Jardia wouldn’t cease talk of a divine conspiracy. Good thing that Michael is completely loyal”

“Yes,” said the first “it would have been quite awkward, after six Universes, to have a creation suddenly divine the Truth”

“So what is next?”

“Well. We still have all eternity brother. We ARE eternity.”

“Perhaps we could have a universe where I actually win? Being a rebel is tiring you know, having to give all those rebellious speeches in that weird language”, he sighed, “so any exciting new variable this time around?”

“Oh yes, I’ve been wanting to see how making the angels reproduce with the humans would play out. It will be essentially the same universe as before, but the humans will become more “in the picture”. I predict this shall be exciting to observe”

“ah, once more order shall be made manifest from the Chaos that is at the beginning of all things”, he stared at his brother, ”Let us get to it”


…And He said, Let there be light.


Editors Note: 

This story was born of an idea I had after reading the graphic novel ‘Preacher’. I co-wrote it with @Ekwem who is also a fan of the graphic novel. It was originally posted on his blog earlier this year. Some would say it is blasphemous. I beg to differ. It is fiction and should be enjoyed thus. 

A Silly P story

There once was a powerful penis

attached to a great man named Dennis.

In and out it did thrust

To satisfy his carnal lusts.

Now discarded, a fine instrument gathering dust.


Enter Dennis and Jide…

Ah! Dennis there you are!

You know you are our star!

Where have you been?

At our parties you’ve not been seen

For weeks and even a month now!

My dear fellow, I’m no coward, not yellow,

I just wanted to mellow

You know…chill

I will roll with the boys still

Come another day, perhaps tomorrow.

Dennis I hear your words

But I see your eyes

These words are lies.

Whats wrong? It’s me your guy!

You know you can’t lie.

We’ve even had threesomes together

What manner of stormy weather

Can put us asunder?

Dennis, Speak your mind.

Jide, my friend, you are kind

But I just need to unwind…

Dennis! Speak you mind!!!

Jide, I have HIV.

Do you see?

How terrible could that be?

Between you and me

There is no problem that we…

…Wait… what?



Dennis? Wetin you say?

Abeg, Abeg, talk say na play

Na your bodi HIV dey?

Yes Jide, I just found out a month ago today.

That’s why I’ve been in dismay

I did not know what to say

The girls have been looking for me

But they are the last people I want to see

So guy, wait…

Junior Dennis the great

The penis the ladies admired

Has been retired

Since this disease has come?

Kai! Where did you get it from?

It could have been Ndidi, Sandra or Bola,

Maybe Abigail, Chinwe or Sola

Even Ekaette, Uju or Amina 

The truth is I don’t know.

You know I’ve never been slow

If I seen a chance, I go!

Sometimes I didn’t use protection

I’ve always been a man of action

Only aimed for satisfaction…

NO!!! Dennis! But why? Kai!

Did the doctor say you would die?

NO. I just need my medication

Been looking for some motivation

To go on.

I can never have sex again

The thought brings physical pain

I have nothing left to live for

I’m shaken to the core

Jide what will I do?

Oh, ehen, sorry, I didn’t hear you

I was chatting with Andrew

Paroles dey tonight

The babes are tight

The mood is right

Sorry I can’t stay

Maybe you should go and pray

It’s a pity you can’t come

There are enough chicks and then some

Wetin you talk again? HIV abi?

God is your muscle, Jesus is your padi.

As for me

I’ve got to go.

Ahn! Jide? Is this life?



PENILE ZOMBIE – A song – to be sung in tune to FELAs Zombie

Zombie-o, zombie


Zombie go just dey salute, once you touch im bodi

*[CHORUS] ZOMBIE *(after each line)

Zombie no go stop, unless e reach where e dey go

Zombie no go slow, unless you moan “go slow”

Zombie no go fast, unless you shout “harder, harder”

Zombie-o, zombie


Tell am to go rape– Joro, Jara, Joro

No logic, no reasoning, no sense– Joro, Jara, Joro

Tell am to go cheat– Joro, Jara, Joro

No love, no care, no thought– Joro, Jara, Joro

Tell am to commit adultery– Joro, Jara, Joro

No wife, no kids, no life– Joro, Jara, Joro

Go and rape

*[CHORUS] JORO, JARA, JORO *(after each line)

Go and fuck

Go and do** **(do…do…destroy)

Put am for there!

Go and chook!

Go and gbensh!

Go and knack (3x)

Joro, Jara, Joro- O Zombie way na one way (3x)

Joro, Jara, Joro- Ooooh



Stand up!

Wear condom!

enter mouth!

enter front!

enter back!

Double speed




thrust in

thrust out

Speed up

Get ready *(2x)


Yes! *(Repeat 3x from “Attention”)




I don’t have the will to write or do anything else right now so I’ll just post this little thing which I wrote on Monday and edit it to fit today. Cheers to your weekend. Mine? Not so much.


I detest beer, lager, stout and all the other vile ‘Liqueurs de struggle’ that many people seem to enjoy drinking. Why anyone would imbibe a liquid that tastes like a pee-soaked carton in the name of enjoyment is and has always been beyond me. But for those of you that participate in its consumption, carry on,  its your taste and as the Latin maxim goes “De gustibus non disputandum est” ….“one must not dispute about tastes.” However while there will be no dispute, there will be mockery and derision from me to you – the consumers of ‘Liqueurs de struggle’.

Despite my utter distaste for ‘Liqueurs de Struggle’ I do enjoy all other alcohols. Quite a bit. I am an ardent advocate of drinking in the appropriate quantities and I have always enjoyed drinking cocktails and any other alcoholic beverage that is not a ‘Liqueur de struggle’. Recently, I have begun to take an interest in creating cocktails of my own and spreading the gospel of Cocktails to the unfortunate multitude that are still consuming ‘Liqueurs de struggle’.

The official definition of a Cocktail according to the Merriam-Webster Dictionary is “an iced drink of wine or distilled liquor mixed with flavoring ingredients.” That’s a very broad definition, but reflects the modern practice of referring to almost any mixed drink as a Cocktail. To that that wish to know, I personally define a Cocktail as a stimulating *wink* drink, composed of any mixture of alcoholic spirits, fruits/fruit juices, sugar, water, carbonated drinks, spices, ice, herbs, creams and/or bitters. This emphasizes my own assertions that so-called non-alcoholic cocktails are a meaningless misnomer and that you can toss more or less anything into a cocktail. Basically, a cocktail is a drink tailor-made to suit the drinkers preferences for alcohol content, sweetness, etc. Most of us are familiar with the standard issue cocktails: Margaritas, Daiquiris, Pina Coladas, Long Island Iced Teas, Cuba Libres, Bloody Marys, Martinis….etc, etc, etc. There are literally thousands of cocktails that have been created, more are made every year and most of them are glorious.

For those of you that somehow think that drinking ‘Liqueurs de struggle’ is ‘Manly’ and cocktails are ‘Girly’, I will simply remind you that James Bond – arguably the standard of manliness, awesomeness and coolness – only drinks Vodka Martinis. Thus validating my belief that vodka is the nectar of greatness and Cocktails are the drink of fine, smart, cultured, virile, manly men.

Manliness- Vodka. Cocktail. That will be all.

Anyway, about 4 weeks ago, I had a small sleepover/party at my place and with the help of my friend Tele, I entertained my guests with cocktails: Mojitos, Tequila sunrises, Whiskey dry’s and Vodka, Apple juice and Lemonade mixture which I particularly enjoy. However, when the Mojitos were consumed in a blur by both of us before the rest of our guests arrived, I was forced to concoct a new cocktail and thus the Telly Tumbler was born (obviously, I named it after her because she’s cool like that). After serving it at another friends birthday party the next day, the demand was so high that I had to make it four more times. Since then, I have been inundated with requests for the recipe and I have decided to share it here with you all here, in the largest forum I could find.  So here you go:
The Telly Tumbler
You will need:
Vodka, Lemonade, Apple juice, Mint leaves, Fresh Lemons (sliced into quarters), Green apples (diced into small pieces -optional), Crushed Ice or Ice cubes, a large jug or a cocktail blender, a stirrer (or just a regular spoon), glasses
You do:  
1. Pour the crushed ice/cubes into the jug/blender – as much as desired
2. Add about 10 – 15 whole mint leaves
3. Pour in 1 part vodka  over the ice and mint (or 2 parts for a stronger variant)
4. Pour in 2 parts lemonade
5. Add 2 parts apple juice
6. Take 1 quarter sliced lemon and squeeze into the mixture, toss the lemon whole in as well
7. Add the diced apples (optional) and stir the mixture
8. Pour into glasses, serve and be great
(Feel free to chew the mint leaves and apple pieces as they add an interesting flavour as you drink)
I also obtained a recipe for a gin cocktail from Uche (@theblackhermit) – one of the two main proponents of gin on my TL, the other being the mistress @miafarradaily. I love vodka and will continue to do so but I tried it, I liked it, I added a small touch to it. Here it is for you all to make and enjoy:
Sex on the Balcony
You will need:
Gin, Peach Schnapps, Pineapple and Coconut juice, Actual Pineapples (Sliced into small wedges), Crushed Ice or Ice cubes, a large jug or a cocktail blender, a stirrer (or just a regular spoon), glasses
You will do:
1. Pour ice as desired into the vessel
2. Pour in 2 parts gin
3. Add 1 part peach schnapps
4. Add 1 part pineapple and coconut juice. (Or 2 parts for a lighter variant)
5. Stir and Pour into glass
6. Decorate with pineapple wedge on the glass
7. Drink and enjoy.
So there you have it. Two cocktails created by people you kind of, sort of, know (at least if you are on twitter) – one of whom is yours truly. Feel free to make them this weekend and in so doing, take a plunge into greatness and renounce consumption of ‘Liqueurs de struggle’. You may also find recipes for some of the standard cocktails mentioned in this post as well as several others, here.
I shall be making some tonight and drowning my emotions in them. I may tweet pictures as well to assist those that wish to make any of these themselves.  Feel free to join me if you have demons and emotions that you wish to drown.#
Cheers to the weekend.
There it is. Please subscribe to the blog as I post irregularly and am beginning to find tagging people on twitter to be quite a chore. Thanks. 




It was a bright and sunny Sunday morning the day after our little market and river adventure and we were about to head back out to the Chao Pray river for another. The first order of business was a bit sad as we had to bid the rest of our class goodbye. They were heading off to Phistanulock and from there onto Phuket, while we would remain in Bangkok for one more day before going back to London. Although, we weren’t thrilled about this (Phutket is an amazingly beautiful place and I have every intention of going back to Thailand just to see it), it couldn’t be helped, we had job ‘interviews’ that week. I crawled out of bed, went downstairs, said my goodbyes, crawled back up to my room and promptly went back to sleep.


I woke up again, hurriedly dressed up and jumped into the bathroom, cleansed myself, ate and proceeded to the hotel lobby to wait for the rest of my crew to congregate. Once everyone was good and ready, we called two taxis, hopped in and sped off toward the private pier we had accidentally gone to the day before. In a fit of stereotypical Ijebu-ness, my friend ‘Miss-O’ decided to renegotiate the prices we had previously agreed upon the day before and we ended up getting the same deal for a cheaper price. Everybody needs that one friend…

The boat wasn’t really a boat; it was a canoe with delusions of grandeur. Long, with a plastic ‘roof’ and a motor at the back, it was nothing like the boats you would expect on a ‘private boat cruise’ but then again, it was bloody awesome fun, so I didn’t much care. For example, when our driver sped up, the boat hopped on the waves and sprayed a little bit of the river water upward. As much fun as this was, I did my best to keep my mouth shut, I was sure that if any of that river water entered my mouth I was going to become a mutant turtle or the incredible hulk. Up close, it looked like it contained all the pollution of all the factories in Thailand.

Go ahead. Drink. I dare you.

After about 10 minutes of ‘sailing’ along the main river, we branched off onto the small pathway that led toward ‘Snake Island’ running into fishermen selling things, waving at random villagers standing around and taking pictures of the scenery and temples along the way. Finally, after about 25 minutes on the boat, we finally arrived at the Snake Farm.


Things got off with a bang once we stepped off the boat. We were ushered in, told to buy our tickets and quickly led into the premises where there was already a show in progress. The show took place in a circular arena surrounded by raised seats where we were expected to sit and be amazed. There was an announcer in a corner providing factual/comedic commentary and occasional misinformation. He spoke with a slow, deliberate pace, heavily accented but passable English and a bizarre intonation which I’m not sure how to describe. It felt like a scene out of something on National geographic.

The first snakes on show were two cobras which the commentator informed us were some of the most poisonous snakes in Asia. After charming and tossing the snakes around a bit, he took one, brought it right to our front and ‘milked’ it – extracted the venom.

The Cobra dance of death


Venom. Are you not entertained?

He then put it back in its cage and another fellow brought out the next display, a viper. The bloody snake kept trying to crawl off the stage and come to our seats and the silly fellow in charge would let it wander a bit close before he pulled it back, I’m sure this was part of the show but it scared the righteousness out of me.

See how the bastard keeps trying to crawl toward me? God pass am

Anyway as per badt goiz, I didn’t flinch, just sat there, like a boss. When he was done showing up the somewhat boring and yet scary viper, he picked it up and without warning, swung it around 360 degrees so it went right past my face. In the 2 seconds it took for that to happen, I made my peace with my maker. I swear that must have been the fastest repenting of sins that heaven has ever received. When the snake was put back and I realized I was not dead, I relaxed and settled in for the next display – a black mamba.

The Black (and Yellow) Mamba

When they pulled out the mamba and the charmer started his dance of death with it, all I could think of was Wiz khalifas ‘black and yellow’ , that and the Kobe Bryant vi 6 sneakers.

I'm sure you can see the family resemblance.

Apparently, the black mamba has one of the highest kill rates on the planet; almost 100% of its bites are fatal. I also learnt that brightly colored snakes are to be feared since they are the most poisonous. Nature tries to warn people not to mess with these snakes by giving them bright, visible colors, essentially, the bright colors are the “Don’t fuck with me” T-shirt of the snake world. The ones that blend into the environment aren’t so dangerous hence they have to hide so as not to be seen. (Don’t quote me on this).

Anyway, when they dragged out the Pièce de résistance – the python, I was genuinely excited because by this point all my fear had gone, I’m not sure why. The snake was huge! The creepy commentator/lecturer told us that slow snakes are the most poisonous, again, since they cannot move fast enough to run away, they have to be badasses. On the other hand, the faster snakes were generally not as dangerous. (Again, don’t quote me on this, for all I know the guy might have been talking out of his arse)

The Big Boss

After the talk, milking the python and a few stunts, they asked us to come and take pictures with the snake…on our necks. I could have sworn that for a millisecond I smelled raw fear from myself and my companions. But after I led the way… as usual, we eventually dragged ourselves up and posed to take the picture. The snake skin felt like a living breathing ‘Loois v00itton’ handbag. Anyway when that was done, we were roamed around the farm where there were lots of other animals to play aroung with…monkeys, tigers, deer… it was buckets of fun. By the time we were ready to leave, we were asked to take one more picture with a python and this time, it was to be personal. Only ‘Miss O’ and myself had the guts to do it. She’s a Five-star chick in my opinion, with more balls than all of the others combined. (Suckers! :p)

Pure undiluted Awesomeness

2:40 pm

When the snake and animal tomfoolery was done, we took the boat back to the pier and decided to head out to see the largest solid gold statue in the world – The Golden Buddha. It was located in the temple of Wat Traimit which we headed to via taxi. The temple itself was awesome with a gigantic picture of the king in the background.

I still maintain that this is an awesome picture. Sweggs.

Gold topped white buildings in the entire compound gave it a feeling of royal peace. It was spectacular in many ways. Some of my more religious companions refused to come up to see the statue; I guess they were scared of being infected by some stray spirit. There might have been something to their theory but still, there was no way I would come all this way and not see the statue. Those of us that were willing, went in and I can tell you, there is a big difference between gold and GOLD.

Behold! 5500kg of pure Gold... Okay, you can pick your jaw up from the floor now...

The statute was 5500kg of pure radiant gold and it shone even in the shade. We didn’t stay long so as not to disturb those that came to pray here, we took our pictures and left in peace.


The final stop on our Bangkok trip was the Gem gallery. A giant building that housed a workshop and sales shop where jewelry is made and sold. The place was pure class. When we walked in, they offered us drinks, told us pictures were not allowed and two of the most polite Thai ladies ever walked beside us offering information and asking questions. It was obvious they were putting the moves on us, trying to get us to buy something. While the prices were reasonable, the gems were stunning and there was a great variety, we were quite simply…broke ass niggas. We couldn’t really afford anything of the quality on display there but when I am good and ready, there is every possibility that I will buy my wedding ring from them. We walked around, admiring the craftsmen at work, looking at the finished products and the shark tank in the center of the gallery. I bought some smaller items I could afford for a friend *wink* and we headed to the tailors to pick up my suit which was finally ready.


Finally back in the hotel, I ate dinner, started packing up, collating all the pictures from the days before, and mentally preparing for the 13 hour trip back to London. It was going to be a long and hard goodbye to the Land of smiles and gold.

Yeah. I know what you mean bro. I feel your pain.

~And thus concludes the Legend of Bangkok. Its been fun recording the memories and sharing them with you all. On a personal note, I think a lot of us Nigerians don’t have enough of a traveling culture, how many of us have even been to Obudu Cattle ranch? Erin-ijesa waterfalls ? Ghana? Cotonou even? Is it fear, do we think too much about things? Whatever the reason, travel more. Theres splendor to behold in the world . Take advantage of every chance. Don’t think, just go. Cheerio~  



I woke up on Saturday morning surprisingly hangover-free. I guess my liver had finally manned-up and learnt to process alcohol quickly. (or maybe I just didn’t drink that much, the night before)

Anyway, I had to be dressed quickly today; we were headed for the Grand Palace.

 <History lesson>

 The Grand Palace or Phra Borom Maha Ratcha Wang as it is called in Thai is a sprawling assortment of buildings surrounded by a beautiful garden. Apparently, it has been the official residence of the Kings of Thailand since the 18th century and was built in 1782, by King Rama I, when he moved the capital from Thonburi to Bangkok. The Palace has been expanded over the years and new structures continuously added. The present King of Thailand, King Bhumibol Adulyadej, whose picture can be seen on more or less every street in Bangkok doesn’t live there though. He resides at another palace.

Full details for those interested are here:

<End of History Lesson>

 Once I had I breakfast, I met up with the rest of the crew, hopped into our cabs and headed out. The sun was blazing overhead with the vengeance of hundred angry volcanoes, though it made things uncomfortable, it also made everthing look more beautiful. When we arrived, we were informed by a friendly looking con artist outside the gates that the palace was closed till 1pm for the day and we would have to wait till then. He then proceeded to tell us about a snake farm and some other sights we could go see while we waited and of course offered to help arrange all this for the meager sum of 2000 Baht per person. As per sharp guys and things, one of us (he was French) decided to actually walk into the palace to check. He came back and told us that the guy was trying to scam us and that the palace was actually open. It was a pity though, this con artist, like all Thai people was actually very friendly and some of us (me) didn’t want to believe he had lied to us, but the evidence was clear. Confused and disappointed slightly, we left him and headed into the palace.

 Shorts, miniskirts, armless shirts and other clothes that expose flesh were not permitted in the palace (Since, well… I guess they didn’t want people distracting all the serious, contemplative statues of Buddha from their introspection)

Bitch, I'm contemplating the path to inner peace. Do not distract me with your cleavage

Once we entered the grand palace, we were struck by a constant barrage of gold and light and color. Everything was so ancient, so beautiful, it was almost overwhelming. From the statues of ancient Thai gods and demons, to the gold-tipped spires and rooftops with images of dragons sculpted on them, it was all very….impressive. I doubt I have the words to adequately convey the beauties which my eyes witnessed in the grand palace, I will simply show you.

The main palace in front of the garden


Entrance to one of the temples


Monks in the inner temple...where shoes and cameras are not allowed 😦


Using wetted lotus leaves to cool my burning head.


Statue at the base of a temple. I assume its a demon of some sort. The gold is awesome though


Amazing detail on the temple wall


"The sleeping Buddha". (actually, this wasnt taken at the palace, its in another temple X_X)


Amazing temple roof detail.


Me and my wingman at the entrance on one section. I apologize the his umblerra. Kilin' the sweggs


Palace Decor. I see this and i think "short man devil"


I love thai roof decor. You see the shine from the sun? Awesome.


Me. At the foot of a temple. Obviously suffering from sun-induced tiredness


The row of contemplating buddhas.



Somewhere in the world there are two young German girls wondering why their picture with some weird black guy is on the internet.



"Shhhhh....quiet. I'm pretending to study the ancient drawings on the wall...."


The obligatory picture with a monk. Dont leave Bangkok without one.


Another Dragon designed roof


These guards were kinda scary though...maybe it was the bayonettes


thats a big sword yo...


The end :-)


Once we were done being amazed with all the sights we had beheld in&nbsp;the palace, we headed out to the biggest market in Bangkok – Jatujak market. I have never in my life been to such a huge market before. Simply put, that market was insanely gigantic. So gigantic that we needed a map to navigate around and our party of 15 got lost several times. After trying desperately to decide what to buy and what direction to go in order to please everyone, we eventually split into groups.

They give out free maps to the market. Free. In Bangkok. Free. Yes, Its that serious.

One group stayed on to further explore the market while my group (mostly Nigerians) headed out for the Chao Praya River. We had heard we could get boats going toward the “snake island” and the “floating temple” from the pier so we decided to go there. Now, two of our friends decided (against my advice) to take the “tuk tuk” while the rest of us went in a cab. This little bit of foolhardiness eventually led to comedy of errors as the following ensued:

 1. Our taxi arrived at the pier first and we found out that not only was the boat to the snake island closed for the day, the pier we had come to was a private pier and would be much more expensive than public piers which, by the way did not have boats to go to the snake farm anyway. So, we would have to come back the next day.

 2. My friends in the tuk tuk went to another pier and did not know how to tell the Driver where the rest of us were to come meet up because well…his English was about as good as my Hausa (embarrassingly terrible)

 3. We left the private pier and went to the nearest public pier with the intention of just taking a boat to Chinatown. We asked the other group to meet there.

 4. They told the driver where we were: ‘Chao Praya’ boat pier. Unfortunately, the entire river is named Chao Praya and so he took them to yet another wrong pier.

(At this point, I’m sure you can see how all this was going and imagine the rest)

 To cut a long and irritating story short, we wasted 2 hours trying to reconstitute our group. By the time they arrived it was 6pm and the sun was about to set. Somehow it seemed fortunate that we had wasted all that time because Bangkok by boat at sunset is a most glorious sight to behold.

A view of a temple from the river at sunset. Those arent lights by the way, the jewels on the temple are sparkling. Beautiful, No?

Whilst waiting to get onto the boat we ran into the most interesting fellow: Jacob. Jacob is a German Jew (yes, you read that correctly) that had come to Bangkok to interview for a job as an English and German teacher for an upper class school in Thailand. He had also been a teacher in Kenya, Brazil and many other exotic locations and he was just 26. Fun, friendly and very trusting, Jacob immediately took a liking to us and joined our group. We planned to take the boat ride together and have dinner at Chinatown. I sat next to him throughout the boat ride asking ridiculous questions like “how does it feel to be a German Jew?”, commenting on the beauty of the Temples at sunset and the make-up of the Thai architecture as compared to other exotic cities. It was a delightful conversation, so much so that we decided to stay on the boat all the way to the end of its rout and then come back before alighting at Chinatown. That was a mistake.

Errr...I cant think of a caption....would "I'm on a boat" suffice?

The boat ride was much longer than we expected and after one and a half hours riding without reaching the end, we were tired and had run out of conversation. We were also getting anxious because it was night now and we were far away from mainland Bangkok. We asked and were told that we had to get off at the next stop and return or else risk being taken very far away ( I for one was sure that boat was headed for Vietnam or Laos or some other not so awesome place). Once we got to the next stop, we jumped off the boat like it was a molue on fire. It took a while for us to realize that Jacob was not with us. I guess he got carried away with the boat ride or maybe he just wasn’t quick enough. If he were a lady, I’d remember him as the potential P that was never set, you know the nice movie-type chance encounters that just start and end suddenly… anyway #NoHomo.

I can totally picture this as the storyline for a gay romance movie or novel. "Chance Encounter: Lost love on Chao Praya". Once again...#NoHomo

 This was also the night I had to rush off to the tailors and get my suit fitted. We did that quickly and returned to the hotel exhausted. We immediately finalized plans for the next day as it would be our last full day in Bangkok and we had to make it count. My group of friends was a bit skeptical about the plan but my mind was made up, nothing would stop me from heading to the infamous Snake Island.

To be continued…





I was shocked with disappointment. ‘Spankys’ wasn’t really anything worth watching in my opinion. It was just a bunch of topless, skinny, ugly-ish girls vibrating on the elevated dance floor while a bunch of mostly old white men, sat round tables looking at them. It wasn’t even a decent strip club. I would not insult the talented strippers in Vegas and other places of premium quality carnality by calling what they were doing “dancing”. Imagine if you will, a 40 year old woman with the body a 12 year old girl, topless, being occasionally poked with a cattle prod. She would shake violently for a bit and then stop, right? That’s basically what this was. Every other thirty seconds or so, one of the girls would spank the others with a padded stick. I assume this is what inspired the name of the club. I ordered one drink, endured this absurdity for all of 5 minutes before excusing myself and rejoining the rest of the group that had decided not to go in.

 (I was later informed by one of my friends who had decided to stay back that about an hour after I left, they had gone to another, considerably more interesting club where the…erm…strippers used their vaginas to do many…erm… interesting things…like launch ping pong balls into the air, pick up coins and the like. I guess that would have been fun to see but by this time I was long gone from the Nana area. To this day I’m not sure if by leaving, I made the right decision or not. I guess you all will tell what you think in the comment box. Oh well, that’s what it was)

 We decided to go get dinner and some Shisha which turned out to be much more fun than the little strip club that I had seen. We spent the evening eating Arabic food, drinking fruit cocktails and smoking shisha. My friend “Tiu” tried to teach me and another friend “Bear” how to blow the smoke in rings but the best I managed was to blow it through my nose like an angry bull. 

After we had exhausted our gist and the drinks we walked through the town for a bit (this was at midnight or so) and observed some interesting things.

First off, the town was absurdly lively even at that late hour. Shops open, cabs running, people hustling and bustling around. It was quite comforting to see a city function at midnight as though it were broad daylight.


Bangkok. The city that never sleeps. Because its busy banging kok? No? Errr...Moving on then...

Second, there were a lot of young Thai girls with old Caucasian men walking around. I should say that of the “girls” we saw, I estimate that 40% of them were actually men parading as women – ladyboys (transsexuals) as they are called. It was quite ridiculous. I had learnt the trick to spotting them earlier from “the Lion” who simply told me:

“forget ass and tits, always look at the jaw and throat (adams apple)”

Simply put, they had square jawlines and prominent adams apples which you could use to spot them. But still, some of them were so stunningly beautiful that I’m sure a little konji and alcohol would be enough to blind many men to the fact that they were indeed ladyboys. 

Pictured: A hot Ladyboy. Would you hit that?
Lucky for us, most of the ones we saw were fairly obviously men. Like this group (below) who decided to pose for us…I’m not exactly sure why.

A herd of Ladyboys spotted outside Nana.


We completed our walk, bought a few souvenirs and caught cabs home. I was on my way back to my room, thinking the night was over, when I got a call from another one of my friends “M-man”. “M-man” is without a doubt the hardest drinker I know on God’s green earth. He and a few buddies had been drinking for a while and at this point were inebriated and looking to head to a club (at 12:30 am). I had a full day planned ahead of me and I wasn’t particularly interested in going clubbing but how could I resist? We were here for faaji. I went to my room, took a shower (it was still hot), changed and got dressed and we headed out.

 We were a party of about ten, including, my course coordinator whom I assume had come along to have some fun as well as babysit us and make sure no one ended up at the police station by night’s end. Once we walked in, we were led to a table where “M-man” had already ordered drinks for everyone. We started in on the drinks and chatted nonsense for a bit (you can’t really carry on logical conversations with drunken engineering students). After a bit of this, me and my wing-man for the night “H”, made our way onto the dance floor and danced with some Thai girls. At first we were met with violent resistance by a group who I am sure were lesbian Satanists (Don’t ask me how I know this). Their warrior queen pushed “H” back and shouted in damaged english:

“No, these my girls, they for me!!!”

I dont remember clearly, but I'm sure this is what she looked like

We backed away and squeezed through the crowded dance floor to another group of girls who weremuch  friendlier 😀 . From there on out, it was a haze of dancing, drinking, Hi-5’s to random strangers, laughter, silliness and people offering us their drinks. I have to say Thai clubs have a much friendlier vibe than any other I’ve been to. I can’t imagine what manner of demon would possess a Nigerian in a club to offer his drink to a random stranger whom he couldn’t even communicate in the same language with.

This is before the drinking really started.

  As was bound to happen sooner or later, due to the large amounts of alcohol being consumed and the konji reaching critical levels, there was an incident with the lady boys. During the middle of our groove, while I and “H” were dance floor hopping, we walked past a group of Lady boys standing in a corner flagrantly disobeying Wizkids instruction to “Not Dull”. Anyway, Lady boys are definitely not my thing so I pulled a Johnny walker and kept walking. After a few minutes, I looked behind me and noticed “H” wasn’t following me. I retraced my steps and found him dancing with (dry humping) one of the Lady boys we had walked past. I decided not to judge him and firmly blamed it on the alcohol. I walked up to him and whispered in his ear:

“You know that’s a guy you’re dancing with right?”

To which he responded in a drunken slur:

“Nah, Wole. Don’t say that. She’s a tall beautiful lady”.

It was obvious that he had lost all reasoning capacityat this point and I had no choice. I grabbed him by the arm and dragged him away before he ended up with a lifetimes worth of regrets.

A lot more stuff went down that night which, well, since it didn’t happen to me, I cannot really reveal. All I can say is: A lot of drunken people mistook a Ladyboys for girls that night, At least one person had sex with a Thai girl (at least I hope it was a girl), one person puked on the dance floor and someone (me) got his ass grabbed by a girl ( I really, really, realllllly hope it was a real girl).

Yes Boss! Err...wait tho...What was that second thing you said?

Anyway, I mostly confined myself to dancing and laughing and generally having a good time. When the music stopped playing, the live band that had played earlier came back on and began what I can only describe as ‘Thai bizarro club theatre’. They brought some girls on stage, made them dance, stand around and act out weird scenes with other male club patrons. Nothing sexual, just weird. Like the guys would kneel down while the girls dance round them, touch their heads and say some weird stuff. Later when I asked, I heard it was some kind of game. But in a club though? Thai people are odd. We left the club at around 4:00 am, hailed taxis and headed home. It had been a pretty awesome night all round.

By the time I lay down in bed, I was exhausted. I really needed to rest because the next day would be tiring as well: we had already laid out plans. We would be heading to the most grandiose and awe inspiring set of buildings in Thailand: The Grand Palace.

 To be continued…

 Coming next: CHAPTER 4: GOLDEN SUN



The following morning, we all had to wake up early to head to the office of one of the Companies that sponsored our trip in Bangkok. This was all part of of our ‘official trip’ charade and so was a necessary song and dance to perform. I will not bore you all with details of this; it should suffice to say that the discussions, interactions and experience were pretty mildly interesting (if you’re into drilling and reservoir engineering anyway). I did however find out why the entire country was so bloody hot. First, it’s a tropical region so the suns heat is intense overhead, second, it sits on the ‘pacific ring of fire’ so the ground underneath is hot too. Basically, Thailand is a giant oven with fire from above and below. This knowledge however did nothing to comfort me or cool down my overheating brain cells. For all I care, it may just be that Satan comes there to fart and the farts heat up the place.

 When we were done, the good folk at the company decided to treat us to lunch at some fancy restaurant opposite their office. It was delightful. Really. No Really…

Lunch. Tastes that much better when its free...

Really. Thai food is pretty awesome with lots of flavor in everything. And they hardly cook with grease. Just the right amount of oils to get the flavor in. I loved it. 

Lunch times...Good times

With that formality all done, we were returned to our hotel and at this point I realized there was no plan. Everyone was meant to make the most of the trip in their own way but I had little or no information on what to do and so I turned to the most reliable person I could for help: Google. I found out that there were a number of interesting attractions in Bangkok and I promptly laid out a plan to make the most of my few days there. While doing this, I was interrupted by “Rima” who told me that they were going to a tailor in the middle of Bangkok to get suits. When I asked how long it would take for the suits to be made and how much it would cost, He simply replied “2 days and about £100”. I was in shock. How could a suit be made to fit be ready in two days?! Surely he was conspiring with the tailor to scam us. First off, £100 is about 25000 Naira which is quite cheap for a suit tailor-made for an individual. Second, 2 days is quite literally, well 2 bloody days!!! And this was a Friday. Meaning they would have to work over the weekend. The last time I had a suit made to fit for me; it cost me 35000 Naira and took 3 weeks to be done. This seemed preposterous. But it was true. We went to the tailor to pick out our material and have our measurements taken on Friday; came in for fittings on Saturday and collected the suits on Sunday. Along with a shirt and a free tie and pocket square. SCORE!!!

Thats Mr. Narry, the Tailor/Suit-making babalawo.

  When we were done with the Tailors on Friday, I headed back to the hotel to cool my head. While on my bed, I received a phone call from my friend “The Lion” informing me of plans for the night. “The Lion” is one of the most intelligent, charming, funny, interesting and outright diametrically insane people I have ever met. He had also been to Thailand before, so when he called and told me that they were going out to a place called “Nana” for some fun, I agreed to show up without thinking too much about it. However, before going, I did consult with my ever reliable friend: Google who referred me to his girlfriend Wikipedia. This is what she had to say about Nana


“Nana Plaza (officially Nana Entertainment Plaza; shortened NEP) is a 3 storey red-light district in Bangkok, which is rumoured to be the largest sex complex in the world”

(If you would like to read more about nana, this is the full link

Oh really?

And I was like....







I see…

Needless to say, I was hooked with curiosity. They say curiosity killed the cat but I happen to know several cats that also go laid out of curiosity. Not that I wanted to get laid there or anything. God forbid that I would be “laid” in a place that sounded as vulgar as “Nana”; Nah, Nah, Mba, no way, I just wanted to see er…what was er…going down (pun intended). I am a good, pristine, chaste and holy virgin afterall, beyond reproach and as yet uncorrupted and unblemished by the sins of this carnal world.

This is what I see when I look in the mirror everyday...

 After rubbing my beard in thought for a few seconds, I stood up, got dressed immediately and headed out. I wasn’t going to miss this. I convinced my friend Ms. O to come along and we went outside. A strange thing happened when I asked the first cab to take me to nana, he looked at me like I was satans former side chick and drove off. I ignored this and hailed another cab, same thing again, once I said “Nana”, his eyes clouded over, he said no and drove off. By this time I was getting worried. What were they scared of? Why would no one take me to Nana? Was there something really freaky going down there that the locals were aware of and therefore scared to even go there? I was starting to feel like a pervert.

Ooohh? You go Nana? You is very very naughty man.

 I asked the girlfriend of one of my classmates, a lovely Thai girl, for help. She helped call a cab and speak to him in Thai. She then translated to me telling me that he said there was too much traffic that way and that was why none of the other cabs wanted to go. (Whew, talk about over-reacting! Just because of traffic!!! Jeeez!)

She advised I and Ms. O to take either the sky train or the smaller, more mobile “Tuk Tuk”. We opted for option two and hopped on Thailands answer to Lagos’s ‘Keke napep’: the infamous “Tuk Tuk”.

The plates ae just in case you forget what city you're in. Or maybe just for Swag.

Sitting at the back of that Tuk Tuk, my Nigerianness started to get the better of me: I became tense and held my pen in my pocket like a dagger, ready to strike if need be. I mean, I had good reason to be scared; here I was halfway around the world, heading to one of the most infamous urban areas on the planet in a contraption that could barely be called a vehicle, driven by an over-enthusiastic barely-literate young man who for all I know, could have been a robber, a killer or some sick transvestite rapist cum serial killer who would rape, kill and sacrifice us to some strange elephant god. I sha know say Waffi no dey carry last, I was ready to kill him if I had to. But after a while I relaxed. This was Thailand, not Nigeria, the people were absurdly friendly, so much so that it was to a fault as I would soon discover.

 Once we arrived safely at the nana station, I called “The lion” and he came to grab me and the others that had shown up. He took us to a place called ‘spankys’

This is Nana. Spankys is in the corner over there....

 Once we arrived, the entire party of nine froze outside. For a few seconds, no one was sure they wanted to follow “The Lion” into the “den of sin”. This was the infamous Nana after all and surely there would be plenty of carnal debaucheries in progress there, right? After about 10 seconds of ‘dead air’, two of us suddenly motioned forward and climbed up the stairs. There was no way I was going to come all this way and not witness what all the fuss was about. I hesitated at the entrance of Spankys for another second before taking a cautious step inside and looking around. I wasn’t sure what I expected to see there but it was most assuredly not what I saw when I got in. I was shocked to my core!

To be continued




The flight to Bangkok was excruciatingly long. 13 hours in total with a stopover at Muscat airport in Oman. I must say however that Oman Air is a pretty sweet airline to fly by. I was a bit worried at first when we got on the plane and the pilot started praying in Arabic but if you must be stranded helpless above the clouds for 13hrs, you can’t go too wrong with them. The food was good and plentiful, the movie selection was pretty awesome, the air hostesses were hot (in their own Arabic way), not to mention that I was never once worried about terrorists hijacking/blowing up the plane. I mean, why would they? It was filled with Arabs like them, very few Americans to kill. I would imagine that if a terrorist suggested it at their annual terrorist convention (I assume they have one) he would be boo-ed off stage and pelted with rotten fruit. (Plus, I was rocking a pretty sweet beard, I could blend in and pretend to be one of them if I had to 😀 )

A view from the top-Pictured; pretty, fluffy clouds

When the final announcement came that we were over the skies of Bangkok, I smiled. I had been reading ‘The girl who played with fire’, watching movies, sleeping, eating, tickling my friends and going to toilet for the past 13hrs, I couldn’t wait to get off. Once off the plane, we all went to border clearing where once again, I was reminded of my misfortune to have a Nigerian passport. The dude at the clearance said those of us with Nigerian (and most other African) passports needed a Yellow fever clearance certificate.

I was like... O_o? Do I look like I have Yellow fever?

Yellow fever? Oh yeah? Dude, Really?!  I’ve lived most of my life in Nigeria and I don’t even know anyone that has ever had yellow fever so I was a bit miffed about being accused of being a potential Yellow fever vector. To make matters worse, the guy in charge was as ugly as sin and barely spoke English. After a frustrating 20mins during which I had to say “we flew in from LONDON, not Nigeria” over 30 times, he finally asked us to pay 10 baht before he stamped our passports. Ah! There it was. He wanted a bribe of some sort. His soul was as ugly as his face. Waffi no dey carry last, highest we go play draw- We refused, and another 10mins of frustration followed until, at long last, the guy gave up, stamped the passports and let us go.

We, the unfortunate ones Nigerians, then rejoined the group and headed to the coach that would take us to the hotel. As I stepped outside the airport, the heat took me aback. I was all like “whoa, whoa, whoa, wetin be this? what is up with this hot weather? I mean, Nigeria is hot but this is just ridiculous!” My friend “Hidy” informed me that this is how Thailand is usually and assured me that I would get used to it. I would later find out the scientific reasons why it was so hot. I accepted his assertion, got on the bus and promptly fell asleep.

When I awoke, the bus had stopped and I could have sworn I was on Lagos Island! It looked just like Lagos. Throughout the trip, I would never get over how much many of the urban parts of Bangkok look just like Lagos.

Yeah, that was the same thing I said too, bro

Our hotel was located in a part of Thailand called Ratchadapisek and the hotel was called Ratchada resort and spa, which I believe was some kind of inside joke. Hotel? Yes it was and it was a pretty ok hotel. But resort and spa? TROLOLOLOL!!! Nah. No way. Someone was stretching their imagination when they named the place that.  Anyway, it was what we had booked so we moved in.  (I have been told that in ‘the hangover part 2’ they ended up in Ratchada police station. This was within walking distance of our hotel and I saw the place a few times. Okay, yes I know #ThisIsNotWhyWeAreHere, moving on…)

Me and Ms.O, famzing with a much better hotel...

The first thing I did was change into shorts and slippers. The heat! And then I and a small group of friends took a walk through Rachadapisek (henceforth referred to as THE ZANGA). That place was a slum mehn! Just like some parts of Lagos, smelly, dirty, with diseased dogs walking down the road, people selling food along the street, music blaring, you know, all the beautiful ugliness of a modern urban slum. But despite all that, it was still friendly and had a fun vibe; there were young girls walking around at 12 midnight, people smiling, it was peaceful and safe. This was a recurring theme throughout the trip. On a side note, I remember that immediately we walked out of the hotel, a man appeared and showed us pictures of naked girls asking if we wanted to come to a “show”. Obviously, we knew what this was and we did our best to ignore him.

After the walk, we joined the rest of our class for dinner at some buka along the road for local Thai food. The food was pretty nice, cheap and full of flavor. I hadn’t eaten such tasty, cheap food since I left Nigeria. I could tell I was going to like this place already. It possessed all the roughness, cheapness and hustling nature of Lagos combined with the structure, safety and organization of London. A true urban jungle.

The only reason this picture of the buka is here is because the one with me in it is too ugly.

Throughout this trip I ate a total of 7 times at “Mama Ratchada” buka. One of my friends “Lil D” kept trying to pick-up one of the girls that worked there even though she spoke barely two words of English. Safe to say his standards were (and still are) pretty low. To my knowledge he never did succeed, but that is neither here nor there. Anyway, after the meal, we were very tired and suffering from jet-lag. Personally, I felt burnt out and burned by the Thai heat. I retired to my room, connected to the internet via the hotel wireless and tweeted the folllowing…. “First tweet from Thailand :D”

The fun was just about to begin.

To be continued

Coming next…CHAPTER 2: THE BURN