After having a couple of beers in Londen about three weeks ago, one of my friends, Terry, said that he would pop into Nigeria (Abuja more specifically) for a weekend and we’ll have a lekker party. Terry used to work here about a year ago and he is not lekker in his head. Understandably, he became a good friend of mine.

Now when we had this conversation back in the UK, we got very drunk and were having a laugh about all the drunken nights at the casino, the money we won and the shit we got up to. Groot moeilikheid.

This is when Terry matter-of-factly said: “I’ll come around for a weekend and we can go big again.”

Obviously nothing of that sort happened, untill I got a call from another UK friend, Caroline, telling me that Terry was in town.

We all met up at some chick’s party, had a couple of toots and shure as hell,
Terry was there. I asked him if he just came back to tie up some loose ends from his previous contract. His answer (matter-of-factly again) was: “No man, I told you I was gonna pop through for a weekend at some or other stage!’

Now normally when people from the UK wanna get away for the weekend, they tend to take the Eurostar to Paris or some cheap flight on Ryan Air to to the UK’s Margate (Ibiza or Tenerife).

Nope, not Terry. He took a flight on a Friday morning from Heathrow to Nigeria to party with us on the Saturday, suffer a hangover not even God can nurse and fly back to London the Sunday evening so he can be back at work in the UK on the Monday.

Jesus on ice skates!

Well done dude. I don’t know what is going on in your head and I don’t intend to find out.

You, sir, are a fucking lunatic!

Thanks for for visiting on the most inconvenient weekend where I had to choose between nursing myself back to health with anti-biotics or getting shit-faced. Obviously I could not let you down.

Oh my god, how it hurts!

Ek is op die oomblik te dronk om alles te onthou, maar ek sal probeer… een of ander tyd. Dit was ‘n fokken groot aand.