Don’t call us, we’ll call you

I was just visited by an upcoming local artist a couple of moments ago, an earnest young man who brandished his CD at me in a way that seemed both deferential and aggressive– he kept calling me “sir” (as he very well should) but his manner showed that, if he wasn’t satisfied that our meeting was fruitful, he would be back.
Usually I deal with ULAs in the same way: polite and professional. I ask for a contact number and a copy of their music, then thank them for dropping by. When they are gone, I listen to it with my colleagues. If it is good, we wait for it to become a hit, then activate the hype machine—we hunt the ULA down and proceed to overexpose him with flurries of cliché and jargon and airbrushed Megapix photospreads. It is how we keep our bread buttered.
The rule is never be rude. Because, after all,

HE Bobi Wine
You never know.

I remember very well — I was at my desk in the middle of a Yahoo Game when the receptionists called me and told me a man with dreadlocks wanted to speak to me about this song of his called Akagoma.

The dude who was just here today may turn into a future Bobi Wine, but I hope not. It’s nothing personal, but I don’t want to see him ever ever again.

Well, I wouldn’t mind actually seeing him– What I don’t want to experience is to smell him again.

Because the man stinks. The man stinks with an excruciating and intense potency. The man stinks to make capillaries burst open and die. The man stinks as if his underarms were infested with the souls of dead witchdoctors. The smell is not just bad, it is evil and malicious. It is aggressive. It pounces on you and tries to ravage you like a large angry dog.

While he approached I nodded and smiled and uttered meaningless niceties (all the time trying not to inhale) and I kept inching away. But the further I retreated, the more he approached until… well, let me illustrate: When he arrived I was at my desk, front and centre, in front of my computer. By the time he finally left, I had inched and inched and inched away so much that I found I had rolled my chair all the way past the edge of the desk and was sitting in the corridor.

I have suffered for his art.

24 thoughts on “Don’t call us, we’ll call you

  1. LOL, Baz.
    Bright side: when he drops the U and becomes a LA, well-loved or much hated, at least he will be able to afford some body-odour enhancer!

  2. Strangest thing, that’s the same thing that happened when I had the misfortune of meeting Weesil..Weazo… Weasil… That guy for the first time. I think they are trying to say something…

  3. Bobbie Wine stinks? Or the man who gonna be the future Bobbiw Wine?

    Bambi…

    But gwe, the souls of dead witchdoctors??? Lol

    PS: (In other news) Baz, I finally watched Beyonce: The president’s daughter. Yes I watched both parts and sat thru almost 6 hours of that thing they called a movie… If I go on this will turn out to be a blogpost within yo comments.
    But just know that I think 35 yrs in prison is better than sitting thru this!!!

  4. Baz, that i have become accustomed to; in night-spots as well as in my office, which has no windows, stench that seems to permeate through everything even the very keyboard that i use, resisting all attempts to evict it by opening all exits and strategically placing fans to encourage a swift exit.

    It appears that matters of personal hygiene combined with the use of underarm deodorant is not of immediate concern to a vast number of people. The smells emanating from various armpits on a certain dance floor once certain night in a very upmarket joint could have knocked an elephant the fuck out. I beat a hasty retreat off the floor whenever a song suggested that the dancers throw their hands up in the air.

  5. “The man stinks with an excruciating and intense potency. The man stinks to make capillaries burst open and die. The man stinks as if his underarms were infested with the souls of dead witchdoctors.”

    is the funniest thing I have read since

    Priest to grieving family picking out a coffin
    “I didn’t know him…as well as I should have…Maybe if I’d ever met him.”

  6. ‘The funk of forty thousand years’

    Who went for the MTN Marathon? Who smelt the MTN marathon? Do people bathe in this town?

  7. well, atleast that one went away. there is one that is always hovering around me at work. he is not a ULA but he hangs aroung the likes a lot. i guess it goes with the territory. the other day he was showing off a picture he took with kristin davis(sex and the city) and all the while i was feeling sori for dear dear charlote. having to endure that with a smile plastered firmly on her face lest she be called a snob!

  8. Oh, but you have a way with descriptions. Defining that smell!! If it wasn’t so long I would copy and paste wherever I go, but then I’d be caught for plagiarism.

  9. LOL , I can relate to this baz. His kind flock ma side of town. I sit right next to the guy they come to see so I am always laughing. When one approaches,one of ma girls and I look at each other and burst out laughing.

    They always spot tiny shabby dreads. Real rugs to riches story don’t you think?Atleast in future when you do his big story you have a starting point…

  10. eyo nnugu. in other words, y’all don’t know what it takes to be a superstar.

    and “It pounces on you and tries to ravage you like a large angry dog.” classic.

  11. my office colleague’s mouth…….stinks more than two skunks soaked in a pit latrine. shush, he might hear what am typing and he open his mouth to ask……

    @ Baz….I like “The man stinks as if his underarms were infested with the souls of dead witchdoctors”

  12. Tresjolie…huh? 2 skunks soaked in a pit latrine??? wow… u guys are too vicious with the descriptions!!!

    Serious Lolling!

  13. Yo imagination is too fertile. No wonder u r a fab writer. That thing abt smelling like the ancestors blah blah… has me in stitches.

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