TCCA’s Loss

Is that it? My God, TCCA mourns the loss of today. The challenges are so, so many. Will be back tomorrow afternoon. Will pass round a treat just for putting up with TCCA

In tears, we say thank you.

~ The Cliché Collector/ Alchemist.

The Nigerian Thunder League (NTL): Issue 4

(As chronicled by Voss)

The Octopus. #FrankNorris. Engrossing. Go grab a copy

NTL is a very tough league; in another sense, an octopus. Often, you hear of Honourable This and Distinguished That. For the most part, however, the honour is of maggots, and the distinction is in cupidity and larceny. (Lanced by doubt? You must visit Nigeria). Rectitude, unfortunately, is mostly a waste of time. You are, nonetheless, encouraged to remain on the chariot of rectitude. Let us learn from The Ragman’s Son, Kirk Douglas #Nigeriamycountry. #JohnAnusie

SCORES
──────
Natural Disaster Babes = 2 ———– Hunger Stars FC = 0
Presidential Wolves = 0 ———– Corruption United = 5
BH No-Pity FC = 3 – ———– Police Marauders FC = 0
Hunger Stars FC = 0 ———— Politricks FC = 4
Legislathieves FC = 0 ———- Presidential Wolves = 0
Kalashnikov-no-Face FC = 1 ———– Army Arsenal = 2

TRANSFERS
─────────

Anarchically secret. Oh, In the Absence of Magic…
#Ernst Pawel

***
Ramadan is over; Eid-al-Fitr has begun. It is not surprising, then, that in a country as noisy and flatulent as Nigeria, a country justly infamous for state-of-[the]-failure facilities, everyone has swamped the village square with the gangan of mendacity; everyone is chattering like an isle of parakeets.

Determined to ride the rostrum of public opinion and of course prepare himself for the penalty shootout of 2015, Atik Abubakar Kalou, former Presidential Wolves striker, almost lost his tongue at the Eid-al-Fitr celebration howling for unity. Hey, hold it. What are you clapping for? Have you eaten a clapping mushroom? Have you not realized that Nigeria is a desperate lie? Now that you have realized, you should as well know: you survive by, and only by, the waters of scepticism. We are not surprised that Atik Abubakar Kalou is pushing the wagon of political clichés. 😛 That is one of the tricks of political survival in Nigeria. Nanga Minus Opportunity has taught them…

Hunger Stars, Patriotic Stars and other top poor in the NTL are miffed and acidic: They had expected a roaring denunciation of the barbarisms of d’Killa Don Sheq Park and other lunatics that rule BH No-Pity FC. Let them keep expecting. Lord GODOT Expectation would probably be around tomorrow… 

Goodluck J.Okocha of Presidential Wolves equally joined in the tongue game; he loudly commended Religion Dortmund (also known as Prayer Warriors FC) strikers (of the cross and the crescent) for exemplary leadership, sorry, rulership. You would want to ask… Oh, no, let’s skip it: it’s so depressing…

His Destructive Slyness Lord Poseidon recently assisted Natural Disaster Babes, Ocean Surge branch. They pounded Kuramo Beach, one of the smouldering nests of sin in Lagos. One confirmed dead.

Dead and ignored. Actually, what is thought of, and what is remembered, is the largess. You should be familiar with the politics of it. In Nigeria, largess is one of the doors to (political) success. Coastal strikers from Delta and Bayelsa states recently complained of discrepancies in the sharing of the largess from Big Brother NDDC…

My God, are the events in the NTL numerous! I’m hungry. I will stop right here… now…

…Because you aren’t buying lunch…. 

Disclaimer
If you follow events in Nigeria, you’ll find that our chronicles are true, true as blood. You should have no difficulty identifying the characters. But remember: you must not add to the chronicles if you’re obtuse (sorry for using that word) about the message. Don’t even dare to – you’ll be funeralized.

The Cliché Collector/ Alchemist: Issue 10

The Cliché Collector/ Alchemist is 10 issues old… An isle of thanks to the followers of #JohnAnusie… @anusieva… An isle of thanks to the commenters… Your responses have been overwhelmingly encouraging. You make me want to do more…

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

[The thump! thump! thump! of a hammer is the only indication that a carpenter is busy somewhere. Moments later a carpenter is seen observing the reconstructed door of the
ALCHEMIST’s lab and nodding to himself.

Unseen, from a distance, ALCHEMIST observes the CARPENTER].

CARPENTER [looking at the door and smirking complacently]: As good as new. I, Emeka Ndalu, am a master craftsman. [Beats chest drunkenly]. In vain other carpenters try to challenge my genius. [Suddenly thoughtful]. But must we continue under the tyranny of masks, bombs and bullets? The street is death itself. Well, the madmen, the restless sons of grenades, won’t get me. They cannot get me. I will drink to that!

ALCHEMIST [walks right up to the CARPENTER and grabs him on the collar. CARPENTER freezes].: You will drink to that! Are you the newest duffer? Are you determined to ruin my students? [Shakes him roughly]. Now pick your bag and go: I’ve paid you.

[CARPENTER picks bag up and slinks off. ALCHEMIST enters the lab, closing the door behind him].

ALCHEMIST [wearily]: There will always be those who will never learn. [Spits out]. Let that fool drink his senses to a funeral. Here –

Specimen one – SHIP OF STATE

What ship of state? Ship of the stale perhaps. The unfortunate ship has long been scuppered by storm. What are left are pieces of iron, rancid fat, maggots, mould… Everything is stale; the ship stinks: desert it right away.

[Suddenly alert, sniffs]. A gourmet’s delight is being cooked somewhere. [Opens the nearest cabinet and brings out a plate. Dusts it with his hands]. I’ll be right back. [Exits].

The Cliché Collector/ Alchemist: Issue 2

Welcome…

 

Today, the Alchemist begins his work, converting clichés into gold. Hand in the damned clichés or don’t peep into the Alchemist’s lab ever. Too proud to hand in the clichés via comments? Inbox them, then, and everything will be all right.

 

I realize that I’m more alert reading with the pince-nez of scepticism. While that has been helpful, and indeed fulfilling, it hasn’t been much fun, having no one to share with. By making the process interactive, I believe I could have all the fun I desire and still keep in sight a noble goal. What? >:)))(((:<  

 

Clichés have the tendency to appear innocent, but you must take them for what they are ─ the garbage of composition. Spare them and die. Grammar Nazis and linguistic snobs will give you a free funeral. Lucky you!

 

[The lab. ALCHEMIST enters, flourishes two skeletons out of his hat].

 

Skeleton one ─ HIS NAME RINGS NO BELL

 

ALCHEMIST: [Shakes head]. Very bad. These bones have no prospect of resurrection. You rest your hope on them ─ in vain. Crack your head for new bairns or toss your pen in resignation. Who weds names with carillon, anyway? I will tell you one thing ─ not an answer to the question, though: Skeleton one is a scum of obscurity; a stone unknown; his name is a rag, a wet rag.

 

[Looks meditatively at the second specimen] ───

 

Skeleton two ─ I WILL DRINK TO THAT

 

ALCHEMIST:  [Shaking with laughter] A bibulous generation! Lantier brought-ups; hopeless new clowns in L’assommoir! [Peers out the window, finds an inebriate stumbling down the street, bawling like a Boomtown Rat. Tiptoes out of lab and kicks inebriate in the buttocks, sending him reeling into the gutter. Reenters lab, smirking]. That should teach him. Eh, where did we stop? Ok. [Sneezes]. Skeleton two would have a seat in the hall of the living if it (hmm…, well…,) simply celebrates an accomplishment/ achievement or, at least, shares in a toast. Toast. You will have to do it quickly: Toast itself is hurrying off to Cliché Street.  Lantier ended badly. You will, too ─ if you drink to that.  

 

Clack! Clack! Boom! Boom!! Boom!!! Hey, what’s that? What’s happening?  Don Sheq (Shek**) and his boys? Abdul Clack-Clack speaking? Oh my lab! [Flees]