Life & Times of A Nigerian IJGB

Life & Times of A Nigerian IJGB

A month ago I was considering what jacket to wear to battle the beautiful cold in London city, now here I am smudged like a sausage between two hefty ladies, that remind me of buns. Oh! did I mention that we were also cramped in a sandwich and a disaster of a bus ?
But it’s okay. At least it’s not like the windows are not open and there is no proper ventilation. At least it’s not like this guy beside me is trying to attempt conversation, not like the conductor has not finished spitting “Yaba, Yaba” on my body….sigh
Even going to work on the island is a problem, if there’s no traffic which is impossible, you are trying to fight for your life as no Nigerian knows how to drive a car. They are all mad, not even the clinical madness, this one is a mystery.
I will probably die here and it’s been coming since I got back. There I was thinking I’d come home to a continued paradise and link up all my bredrins, my gyals and rave at all the concerts and then go back to my beloved London town.

Ah but alas my parents were sly and here I still am, they are trying to turn me to a naija proper.

Oh the bus has even stopped now, and guess what ? the sun is smiling as usual shining all it’s teeth smh, sometimes I wonder what sin these people committed to be dwelling in a city so smelly and so sunny.

Anyways it’s time to fly bike to my home, oh yes we we dey fly bike now o, sigh who would believe what has become of me in my beloved England. Mans turned to bros, hey has turned to how far, wagwan has turned to chief, now winds are not the only things that blow us, owu sef de blow us.

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