What’s the use of having a brain when you don’t use it? As soon as my friend George called me on Friday night, I had a feeling it was going to be a long night. He informed me that some females were in town and he wanted us to go clubbing. It was either that or a night of playing Football Manager, so I threw on some clothes and hit the road. Mistake! Below is the diary of what proved to be a very ‘interesting’ night…
11.20pm: G has tried calling me more than 7,000 times in a bid to hurry me up. I finally make it to his house and we pick up W, S and S’s girlfriend. Four more guys in two other cars make up the number and we hit the road. We get stopped by some shifty looking cops and I get the chance to flash my PCRC (Police Community Relations Committee) card and act all important, with mixed results.
12.02am: Stop to buy N500 fuel for the car at Mobil, Maryland. We head to Ogudu where the females are lodged in a hotel. Didn’t have the foggiest idea where that was, missed a turn-off thanks to the less than intelligent routing by G who was riding shotgun.
12.10am: We get to the hotel, a sleazy looking outfit if I’ve ever seen one! We are joined by T who has been eagerly waiting in front of the hotel with two of his friends for almost an hour but couldn’t summon the courage to call the girls out. G finally does and after 5 minutes, I am confronted by the sight of some of the most unattractive females I’ve ever seen. There were around 5 or 6 of them, skimpily dressed, too much make-up, cheap perfume, the whole works. Everything about the females shouted ‘SLUT!’ and this was going to be proved right later on…
12.30am: After some fast driving, we get to ‘The Place’ on Isaac John, Ikeja. There was a lot of confusion of the way as regards our destination. S suggested we go to a club in Yaba but G (who was the organizer AND financier) countered him, saying the ‘sluts’ wanted to go to The Place. T’s friend settled the matter when he sped ahead of us and we were forced to follow his car to Ikeja.
12.31am: I didn’t really see the females properly in front of the hotel at Ogudu because of the poor lighting, but they looked even worse when we disembarked from the cars. The searchlights in front of the club made them look like what they were, Goddamned prostitutes! In appearance they were no different from the army of professional prostitutes that ply their trade on Isaac John Street. Stop laughing, I’m as serious as hell here! In front of the club, T (who had prior knowledge that the club charges for admittance) puts on an act for the females, storming away from the gate when asked to pay. ‘Rubbish!’ He yells at the top of his lungs, waving his arms about like Arsene Wenger does when Arsenal is playing rubbish as usual, ‘am I not going to buy drinks inside?’ He storms off while we all ignore him. He comes back after five minutes and goes into the same act again, which everyone completely ignores this time. (How person go vex for the same thing twice?) I told S that if T came back and did that crap again, I was going to kick him square in the nuts! Anyway, G pays around N5, 000 as gate fee for the sluts and they rush inside without looking back.
12.42am: We have been standing outside the club for almost 30 minutes, arguing amongst ourselves about who was going to contribute what to the gate fee. S’s brother, B (who has some clout at the club) arranged for us to pay less than we should have. There were like 13 of us and he got the bouncers to collect N7,000 as against around N19,000. After the first round of fund-raising, there was around N3,000 in the kitty and this was after 10 minutes of arguing. I entertain myself by eavesdropping on the conversation some of the prostitutes who were standing near us were engaged in. T came back and luckily for him, he didn’t make a fuss about paying anymore ‘cos I was really going to rearrange his nuts if he had. Maybe he didn’t because the sluts had gone in before he returned.
1.15am: I’m considering flipping everyone the bird and going home. We’ve been standing for almost an hour in front of the club and everyone is maintaining their tight-fisted regime. I suspect the prostitutes around are going to take pity on us and give us the money to go in because we have stood there nearly as long as they have! Some policemen come along and start arresting the prostitutes on the road. Some of them run to the entrance of the club and pretend like they are trying to get in. One female makes the mistake of antagonizing them and they launch into her, pulling her hair, slapping her around and hurling abuses at her. The guy she’s with pretends to be making a call and wisely ignores what’s going on. The odds of him successfully defending his partner against 10 or more militant prostitutes are much lower than Kris Okotie’s chances of becoming President!
1.20am: We finally get in. Don’t know where the balance came from and don’t care. I’m just glad to be able to take the load of my feet. While we were at the gate, I saw two artistes; Spydaman and AY.Com separately begging to get in while the bouncers vehemently refused them entry. I think Spydaman launched into one of his songs in a bid to convince the bouncers of his identity. The milk of human kindness in the bouncers finally prevailed and they allowed them enter. I think I saw Spydaman exhale visibly when he finally got inside the premises. Na wa for Nigerian artistes o!
1.25am: The club is pissing me off! It’s just like all the clubs in this world; Noisy, dark and filled with inebriated people and prostitutes. What if rapture occurred now? I remember the Book of Revelations where it was said that less than 144,000 people will eventually make Heaven. I believe it now! Meanwhile, the sluts mob G and get him to buy a bottle of Baileys for them. Price? N6,000 for a small bottle!
2.15am: I’ve been sitting down and watching re-runs of the World Cup games played on Friday. Sight one of the sluts negotiating with one Indian bloke. The others see her too. Apparently, the females have been fielding prepositions from interested men all night. Goddamned sluts! So far, no one has danced and (or) even spoken to them, including poor G who has shelled out more than N15,000 on them so far. I’m absolutely livid and tell G in no uncertain terms that he is a goddamned fool for falling ‘mugu’ for these females. It appears our only value was chauffeuring them to their ‘office’. Well, I didn’t carry anyone in my car so it’s not so bad.
3.10am: Getting restless and I’m ready to go home and sleep so I can play football in the morning. I tell the rest of the guys to get their minds right or I was going to leave them like Obasanjo dumped Tafa Balogun, Ahmadu Alli and Evans Enwerem. One prostitute has been making a nuisance of herself near us; wearing bum shorts and sagging them so low that her butt crack is very visible. She’s dancing like those girls in D’Banj’s ‘Tongolo’ in a bid to secure patronage for the night but so far, she’s been shooting blanks.
4.12am: We finally leave the club. I’m so bored that I’m practically dozing on my feet. The sluts apparently are not interested in leaving as they have other plans. M, S, W and I say we should leave them but G says it’s not fair and that we should take them back to their hotel. I look around for a good-sized stone to bash his head in. We argue back and forth for a couple of minutes until his brain finally finishes booting and he agrees to leave them. One of them stops the car and gets him to disembark and proceeds to engage him in conversation while the rest of us seethe inside. I call out to him once and both he and the slut are lucky that she leaves immediately ‘cos I would have beaten the holy crap out of both of them otherwise!
4.25am: After some dare-devil driving to avoid some patrolling cops and some tactical high-speed driving to deter any potential bandits, I drop off everyone and head for home.
