This week has been tragic in stormy ways. The stories are plenty, the pictures are horrid, the losses are enormous and the traffic is unending. Extensive media coverage and social commentary has made it unnecessary to recap them (thankfully). Whilst I can’t reverse floods, perhaps I could make you smile or even giggle…I’ll try; if I can find your armpit, I’ll do you logoligi. If you have dead nerve endings, kindly step aside please? :-)

So I’ve put together a couple of jokes that cracked me up and a few pick up lines to go with. Some of them are grand epics, and if this is the first time you’re seeing them, get ready to embarrass yourself. Read More Can I Tickle You?


Most times the posts that finally make it here have some deep meaning and profound truth about them. This one doesn’t, not really. It’s just two videos that have cracked me up worse than harmattan ever did! You most likely have seen both already, but I still share them confidently because they’re funny enough to merit a hundredth watch.

The first is a showdown between a rich kid and a poor kid. At the end of the day, who walks away crying? Was it really about melody and gadgets and shoe color? Lol, here see;

Then there’s this one, which started going viral last week. It’s a simpleton’s perspective on our economy. I think this guy could stab English and he’d be right to. English failed to give him a word expressive enough to communicate his job. That’s a pretty frustrating place to be in. imagine opening a linked-in account and feeling stranded at the ‘Job title’ section and kpakpakpa was the phrase you had to create to compensate for English’s shortsightedness. Here, let’s watch English pay for her crime. Read More The Kpokpo Gari And Kpakpakpa Connection!


bloody stickerI invoke the me-you clause before you read another word. That makes everything you’re about to read inadmissible in the court of law should you choose to double-cross me. I am not a lawyer, I’m an advertiser. But I’ve been up to some mischief and now I’m coming clean.

When I got my car some time last year, I endured frequent stops by the police. The car is a decent silver Honda Civic, there’s nothing notorious about it. Me too I have an innocent face, no piercing or tattoo, almost always decently dressed. So it beat my imagination why they picked on me so. It wasn’t like I was stopped every day, but I’d have rather I wasn’t stopped at all.

They would ask for everything from driving license to spare duster. Sometimes I won, sometimes they did, but it felt very emasculating to beg some corrupt undeserving, completely compromised police office to take my hard earned cash and have a nice day with it. Is it the car that didn’t look too posh, or did I look like a small boy? Well I woke up one morning and decided I’d had enough of that!

I made sure I had a suit hanging in my back seat at all times. No matter how low on fuel I was, anytime I neared a police check point, I rolled up my semi-tinted windows and put the AC on full blast so that the chill would taunt them when I rolled down. To add to that, I’d always make sure that I was tuned in to BBC or had an audio book playing. That way when I said “Good day to you officer” in my Locally Acquired Foreign Accent, they’d get a very exaggerated sense of who they were talking to.

To crown it all up, I took both insurance and road worthy stickers off the windshield and fixed a Ghana Bar Association sticker right there in the center. I put it to you!

O boy was I on a roll! I cruised in and out of checkpoints like I was in the IGP’s convoy. There was even this one time Read More It’s Not The Bloody Sticker!