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I am an Ajebutter. Not by birth, or by formings, or by swag – I am simply an unapologetic Ajebutter by default. I didn’t choose to be born one. God, without seeking my opinion (because He’s God, I guess), gave me the genes of an Ajebutter and a funny Bri-Merican accent . By luck or some twisted work of fate, fortune, Karma (I might have killed ten defenseless puppies in my past life) or destiny, I have found myself in Lagos, crazy Lasgidi, and this is my story…
I write this with a heavy heart. I will be leaving Lagos. This city of blinding lights, and relentless hustle, that have become my home. Cities that I have learned to love, hate, tolerate, survive and thrive.
The Christmas is upon us all, and since I’m a big fan of family and brotherly hugs, I’ll be rushing home the first chance I get, and somehow, no matter how much I’ve cried and yelled at Lagos, raved and ranted at the injustice and discourteous attitude of the streets, some things still remain special.
I will miss the early morning rush and scramble for commuter buses, the traffic jam, the endless BRT queues, and the dried expectant eyes of intending passengers. I will miss the street spectacles. The fights, the drama, women grudgingly clinging onto the garments of drunk men, and the curses in Yoruba.
I will miss the crude lack of grace from the Agberos, their menacing stares had awaken my deep societal longing for massive change. I will also miss the omnipresent smell of Marijuana and Indian hemp. They’re bad scents to me, but reluctantly have I learned to accept them, and live with it.
I will miss the women. Those gentle species with a heart of glass, and sharp eyes for a good guy. They come in all shapes, sizes and dispositions, and Lagos has given me my fair share of woman drama. Surprisingly, I miss the whores, and sex workers, who never fail to offer me a chance to smash my genitals against theirs.
I always reject, but appreciate the gesture.
Above all, I will miss my job and my readers. You guys have been the best. Running around the state, chasing the ‘celebrities’, and being right at the thick of the news has made me a better person. I have seen Davido reach puberty, 2face become a proper man, Don Jazzy lose his arrogant aura, and Tonto Dikeh deceiving the Nigerian public.
These few months were a splash of relative happiness sprinkled with a confetti of achievements. I have not made a fortune of cash, or found a stash of gold. But I have found souvenirs. These memories of a lifetime, my mental pictures of everything. These are my souvenirs.
Here’s to Lagos. Here’s to the bright lights. Life is happening, and nothing lasts forever. I am Joey Akan, an Ajebutter stuck in the winds of Lagos. You have followed my story, and thankful I am.
Have an amazing festive season! I will miss you all!
HE WAS married and had two kids and all was well in
his marriage . . .
But eight months ago the 33-year-old man dumped his wife and moved in with his 35-year-old sister-in-law who is now pregnant!
His wife is brokenhearted and the families of the couple are in shock.
A meeting attended by elders from the families was held last weekend in Rockville, Soweto, between the man, his
wife and sister-in-law.
The man gave his reasons for dumping his wife.
“My new lover gives me wonderful intimate pleasure. She
is also a better cook than my wife,” he told the meeting.
A family member said the man had been with his 29-
year-old wife for 10 years.
She said the man explained that he impregnated his
wife’s sister because he loves her and only God could
She said: “We always heard the wife complaining that
her husband was not sleeping in the house, but we never thought he could be dating her sister.”
The man told them he was planning to marry his new
lover because she had all it took to be his wife.
His legally married wife said she is not ready to speak
to Daily Sun now.
When the People’s Paper called the husband and his
sister-in-law, the phone went on voicemail.
Jeremy hated Monday mornings. Everything always seemed to go disastrously wrong, and this particular Monday was going to be even worse.
The first thing he did was climb out of bed, only to find that his bedroom floor had disappeared! So he went crashing down to the room below, which happened to be the kitchen. Luckily he landed on his chair, just as his mother was putting his Cinnamon Toast Crunch on the table. So he ate it up and set off for school. Unfortunately, he was still wearing his pyjamas.
Jeremy was 11 years old. He had no brothers, no sisters, no goldfish and no cats. He did have a very nice pair of socks though, which his mother knitted last Christmas. The good thing about socks is that you can take them anywhere, unlike pets. I mean, you couldn’t take your goldfish to the cinema or your cat to the supermarket, could you? He called one of them Left Sock and the other one Right Sock, and kept them in his pocket because Left Sock didn’t like the smell of his feet.
When he got to school he found that there wasn’t a school, as it had been flattened by a wild bulldozer over the weekend. This was a typical Monday morning disaster for Jeremy, although it did mean that he wouldn’t have to go to his French lesson today.
Just then, he saw Billy Muggins looking at where the school used to be. Billy Muggins was the only boy in his class with a moustache, and he was also still in his pyjamas. Before they had a chance to say hello to each other, they heard a quiet voice coming from somewhere.
“Help! Help!” said the voice.
The two boys found that it was an ant trapped under a pile of bricks, so they rescued him. The ant said his name was Anthony and he wanted to go home.
“Where is your home?” asked Jeremy.
“Australia.” said Anthony.
“Australia! How did you get to England?” asked Jeremy.
“I walked of course. Ants can’t drive you know.” said Anthony rather sarcastically.
“I didn’t know they could talk either.” said Billy Muggins.
“Of course they can talk.” said Anthony “Its just that humans are too stupid to hear them!”
Jeremy thought that Anthony was a liar. How could an ant walk from Australia to England? It would take a million years. And anyway, there’s a lot of sea in the way.
“Are you a million years old?” asked Jeremy.
“Of course not, I’m four.”
“Can you swim?” asked Jeremy.
“Errr … yup”
“Swim in that puddle then.” suggested Jeremy.
“Errr … I can’t … I haven’t got my swimming trunks.”
Now Jeremy was sure that the ant was a liar.
All of a sudden, a thick fog came down from the sky. When it cleared, they found that they were in the Land of the Anteaters. Now if you are an ant, the Land of the Anteaters is one place you definitely don’t want to be!
Three anteaters walked up to them. They were looking at Anthony and licking their lips. They hadn’t eaten for many days and were extremely hungry. The leader was called Nick Nasty, and he lunged at Anthony with his long sticky tongue. Jeremy quickly picked up the ant, and hid him in his Left Sock in his left pocket. Billy Muggins pushed Nick Nasty away and told him to clear off.
Nick Nasty was a bully, but, like all bullies, he was also a coward, so he ran off with the other two anteaters following him.
The two boys were getting hungry now, so they decided to go and find something to eat. There are no shops in the Land of the Anteaters so they picked some apples from a pear tree. Anthony had a toffee that he found on the ground.
After walking for a couple of miles, they came across a large building with a sign that said “Ants Disco – all ants welcome”.
“Great,” said Anthony “lets go in and have a look.”
“Why would there be an ants disco in a land where anteaters live? I hope its not a trap.” said Jeremy.
They crept inside very nervously, and found themselves in a large darkened room where spooky music was playing.
SUDDENLY … nothing happened!
And then, just as suddenly, something did happen!
The lights came on and they saw that they were surrounded by hundreds of anteaters, all staring at them. Nick Nasty stepped forward and said,
“Good … lunch has arrived everybody.”
Thankfully, Jeremy had hidden Anthony in his Left Sock again, and this caused Nick Nasty to be a bit confused.
“Where is the ant?” he boomed, in a loud angry voice.
“We ate him for lunch.” said Billy Muggins.
“I don’t believe you. Humans don’t eat ants!” said Nick Nasty.
“We do” said Jeremy “he was delicious.”
“Empty your pockets” demanded the nasty one.
They emptied their pockets and Nick Nasty told Jeremy to pass him the socks. Jeremy threw the Right Sock at him and it landed on his face, causing him to faint from the smell.
The other anteaters gathered round their nasty leader to see if he was okay, and Jeremy and Billy Muggins quickly escaped out of the front door. Anthony was still safely wrapped up in the Left Sock.
While they were running away from the building, another thick fog came down.
This time, when the fog cleared they were back at the school.
They walked back home and Jeremy’s mother said “Did you have a nice day at school?”
“Ummm … it was a bit different to usual” replied Jeremy.
“Oh that’s nice” said mother, but she never found out what really happened.
Jeremy kept Anthony hidden in a matchbox by his bed, because his dad was scared of insects.
“It was quite an adventure,” thought Jeremy “maybe Mondays aren’t that bad after all.”
Tom was 9 years old and he wished he had a longer name.
“I’m 9 years old,” he said “and I wish I had a longer name.” Told you so.
“I wish I had ten letters in my name, or even fifteen, or even fifty or a hundred.” But he was wasting his breath because no one was listening.
One day he was sitting in the middle of a field talking to himself as usual. He was muttering something about how short his name was, when suddenly he heard a voice behind him,
“Oh, do shut up!” said the voice “All you ever do is moan, moan, moan, about your silly name. Why don’t you get a proper life?”
Tom looked round to see a tree coming towards him. The tree carried on talking “Every day you come up to my field. Every day you sit there going on and on about names. Well I’m sick of it. If its really that important, why don’t you change your name?”
“Change it?” said Tom “But how? How would I think of a new name?”
“Go and get one from the Land of Fantastic Names of course” said the tree.
“The Land of Fantastic Names? Where’s that?” asked Tom.
“Just north of Oxford on the A34. Don’t you know anything?” said the tree.
It was clear that the tree was starting to get a bit irritated, so Tom made a hasty exit and set off to find the Land of Fantastic Names.
He caught the 11.30 train from platform 4 at London Paddington and, after changing at Reading, arrived in Oxford just after lunchtime. He hadn’t had lunch himself, but that didn’t matter because he’d had some yesterday.
He caught a bus from Oxford station that took him directly to the Land of Fantastic Names, where he saw a man standing on a corner of the street counting all the people as they went past.
“Congratulations!” he said to Tom “You are the one millionth person to walk down this street this year.”
“Have I won anything?” asked Tom.
“No I just thought you might like to know” said the man.
The man said his name was Raymond Snodgrass Junior, which Tom thought was a great name.
“How can I get a name like that?” asked Tom.
“You need to go to the Land of Fantastic Names” said Raymond Snodgrass Junior.
“But this is the Land of Fantastic Names” said Tom.
“You’re in the right place then” said the man.
“Well, what do I do now then?” asked Tom.
“You need to go and see Gumbo Mulroney ChopFace. He’s in charge of giving out fantastic names. He’s over there selling newspapers.”
Tom saw a short fat man with a bald head, and walked over.
“Do you want to buy a newspaper?” asked Gumbo Mulroney ChopFace.
“No” said Tom.
But the man gave him one anyway.
“This newspaper has got fish and chips in it” said Tom.
“Yes, I always think fish and chips taste better in newspaper” said Gumbo.
Strange man, thought Tom.
“My name has only got three letters in it,” said Tom, “can you get me a better one?”
“No I can’t. You need to go and see Terry TickleFace the Third. He’s over there counting the number of people that walk past.”
“That can’t be Terry Tickle-whatsit,” said Tom “that’s Raymond Snodgrass Junior.”
“Oh yes, so it is” said Gumbo Mulroney ChopFace “it must be Terry’s day off.”
“Where does he live then?” asked Tom.
“In his house of course” said Gumbo Mulroney ChopFace.
“And where might that be?” asked Tom.
“In the same street as my house” said Gumbo Mulroney ChopFace.
“And where is your house?” asked Tom.
“In the same street as Terry TickleFace the Third’s. I just told you that!”
Tom realised he was getting nowhere with this man so he looked up Terry’s address in the phone book. He lived in PigPigPog Avenue, so Tom went round there straight away.
“What do you want?” asked the thin fat man who opened the door.
“New name please,” said Tom.
“What new name would that be?” asked the man.
“Umm, I don’t know. I thought you might be able to help me think of one,” said Tom.
“I’ve got some new ones growing in the garden if you want to have a look,” said the man.
So they went round to the back garden. Tom was amazed to see names everywhere. They were growing on trees, in bushes, and some were even growing on the lawn.
The first name he saw was Betty Beedlebum.
“Nice name,” said Tom “but its a girl’s name. I’m not having that.”
“Of course its a girl’s name,” said the man “that’s a female bush you’re looking at.”
“Oh!” said Tom “where’s the boys bush then?”
The man went to the boys bush and started to read the names.
“Barry Bighead the Boring Beekeeper”
“No, I’m not keen on that one” said Tom.
“No, that’s even worse.”
“Jason Jeremiah Jellytooth”
“Clumbo Clipper Clop Clap Clop”
“No, I’ve already got a name like that, its boring.”
All of a sudden, a name fell down from a tree and landed on Tom’s shoulder. Tom read it, and was very impressed. It was a brilliant name, just the sort of thing he was looking for.
“I’ll have this one” he said.
“What is it?” asked Terry TickleFace the Third.
“Sargeant Skeleton Stink Squirter”
“Excellent” said Terry TickleFace the Third “it suits you. You can have it, but you must leave your existing name here.”
So Tom put his Tom name on a bush and went away with his new name. When he got back home it was nearly time for supper.
“What would you like for supper Tom?” asked his Mum.
He didn’t answer, so she asked him again. Still no reply.
“Why aren’t you talking to me Tom?” asked Mum.
“Tom’s not my name anymore. I changed it in the Land of Fantastic Names.”
“Oh yes” said Mum “and what might your new name be?”
“Sargeant Skeleton Stink Squirter”
His Mum fainted on the kitchen floor.
Dad came home and went upstairs to get changed. He saw a new sign on Tom’s door that said “SARGEANT SKELETON STINK SQUIRTER’S ROOM”.
There must be some mistake thought Dad, that’s Tom’s room. When the Sargeant told him about his new name, Dad was so amazed at what he was hearing that his ears fell off.
The next day, Stink Squirter went back to school. All the other kids laughed at his new name. Even the teacher sniggered. But Stinky didn’t care. He was proud of himself. He was different to all the other kids and he didn’t intend to be upset by their comments.
After a few weeks, everybody got used to his new name and they all stopped laughing at him. In fact, some of the kids were getting quite jealous. They started to wish that they had interesting names as well.
So one day they asked Sargeant Squirter if he would take them to the Land of Fantastic Names, just north of Oxford. This he did, and while the other kids were all changing their sensible names into ridiculous ones, Stinky picked his old name, Tom, off the bush.
“Mmmm,” he thought “I think perhaps my old name wasn’t so bad after all.”
So he took his old name back. Now he was Tom again, and everybody else had silly names.
The next day at school, the teacher had great trouble reading the register without laughing. It went something like this …
“Billy Bathwater” – “Yes Miss”
“Harry Head-Bandage” – “Yes Miss”
“Kylie Kangaroo Kettle Keeper” – “Yes Miss”
“Larry Lipstick” – “Yes Miss”
“Tooooooooo TigTigTig TunkyTunkTunk” – “Yes Miss”
“Tom” – “Yes Miss”
After that, Tom never went back to the Land of Fantastic Names. He was happy with his proper name and thought that his parents were very kind to give it to him.
This is a bicycle about my life. I’m sorry, did I say bicycle? I meant to say “story”, but sometimes I get my words mixed up. Anyway, as I was saying, this is story about my life. It’s called “My Life Bicycle”.
I am now 104 years old, but when I was born I was zero. I was just a baby in those days, and I couldn’t walk, talk or fold maps. Now I can walk and talk, but I’m still learning how to fold maps.
I’m old now, but when I was young I wasn’t old at all.
During my first year, I did a lot of crying and a lot of unpleasant things in my nappies. By the way, nappies are called diapers in America and something else in Norway, Belgium, Italy and Bolivia.
Exactly 12 months after birth, I had my first birthday. And 52 weeks after that, I had my second. My third came 365 days later, my fourth 8,760 hours later, my fifth 525,600 minutes later and my sixth 31.536 million seconds later.
By the way again, if you are 5 you have been alive for more than 157 million seconds. This handy cut-out-and-keep chart shows how long you have been alive:
5 years = 157,000,000 seconds
6 years = 189,000,000 seconds
7 years = 220,000,000 seconds
8 years = 252,000,000 seconds
9 years = 283,000,000 seconds
10 years = 315,000,000 seconds
If you are more than 10, you can either work it out for yourself or go and do something more interesting.
Anyway, back to the story of my life. After I was 6, I became 7. Then I became 8, then 9, then 10, then 11, then 12, then 13, then 14, then 15, then 16, then 17, then 18, then 19, then 20. I missed out 21 because I forgot my birthday, so, after two years at 20, I became 22.
I used to have an imaginary friend. He was imaginary because only I knew about him. Nobody else could see him, hear him, smell him or stamp on his foot. He used to go everywhere with me, but one morning I woke up to find that he had disappeared. I haven’t seen him since.
After 22, I was 23, then 24, then 25, then 26, then 27, then 28, then 29, then 30.
Every birthday I had to go out and buy one extra candle for my cake, except on my 22nd birthday when I had to buy two.
I got married when I was 31. My wife was two years younger than me and still is. She always uses my candles on her birthday cake, as we share everything except her lipstick.
Did you know that lipstick is called “rossetto” in Italy, “lippenstift” in Holland, “batom” in Portugal and “lipstick” in Scotland? No? Well, you do now.
When I was 32 I got a job at a fire extinguisher factory, but it burnt down.
When I was 33 I got a job at a map factory, but soon got the sack.
Then I got the sack at a sack factory.
Then I got fired at a gun factory.
When I was 34 I joined the Navy because I like flying. This was a terrible experience because they put me on a plane that sailed on water. I hate everything to do with the sea: I hate waves, I hate salt water, I hate fish and I hate all three letters “s”, “e” and “a”.
When I was 35 I became a doctor, but had to give that up when I got a mystery illness.
At 36 I got a job at an alarm clock factory, but kept being late for work after oversleeping at home.
Then I got a job at a bed factory, but kept being late to go home after oversleeping at work.
On September 15th 1937, my wife and I decided to move to Alaska to start a new life. The following day we moved back as it was too cold.
We also tried moving to Nigeria, but that was too hot. Eventually, we found a nice place just down the road, where the temperature was perfect.
We were very happy, but my career was going nowhere. I needed to find a job that I was good at.
I tried bricklaying, dentistry and professional tennis but it was difficult trying to hold down three jobs at the same time.
I became an astronaut, but once you’ve seen one planet you’ve seen them all.
Working in a bank was more interesting. That went well until the day I put all the money in the safe and accidentally dropped the key down an old well shaft.
I applied to become a check-out girl at the local supermarket but they said I had filled in the wrong form.
My next job was a complete disaster and I don’t want to talk about it.
It would soon be time to retire and I hadn’t even started work yet!
I tried to get someone to sponsor me to see how many cakes I could eat in 4 days. I was sure that this would bring me fame and fortune, as well as a mention in the Book of World Records. Nobody sponsored me but I went ahead with the record attempt anyway. I ate 79 cakes on the first day, but then spent the next three days in hospital.
Soon after that, I decided to go to University. For three years I studied books and wrote essays. When I went to hand all my work in I found out that I was supposed to have sent in an application form before starting university.
We weren’t short of money as my wife had quite a good career. She had worked her way up from being a tea lady to become the Prime Minister. This meant there was a vacancy in the government for a new tea lady. So I went to the interview wearing a dress and lipstick, but didn’t get the job as I have no idea how to make tea.
I also went for an interview at a door factory, but couldn’t find the way in.
I joined a pop group and they asked me to be the singer as I can’t play any instruments. They kicked me out when they realised that I can’t sing either.
After two days as a helicopter pilot and six days swimming back to shore, I finally found my dream job. It involved counting the number of books in our local library. I completed the task in less than a week, but they refused to pay me as they said that nobody had asked me to do it. This made me quite angry, so I decided to use my library ticket to borrow all 740,000 books. Cycling home with all these books wasn’t easy, and I had to make three trips.
I spent the next ten years reading all the books, and thus became the cleverest person in the whole wide world. This really was my big break. I worked out how to solve world hunger, discovered a cure for all known diseases and won some great prizes on TV quiz shows.
I wrote a book that included all the information that I’d read about. The book was bigger than a small city (but smaller than a big city). Sherwood Forest had to be cut down to provide enough paper for the book. Unfortunately there were no book shops large enough to stock the book, so it was a bit of a waste of time really.
As this is the story of my life, I suppose I should tell you my name. It’s Jonathan Dolphin, not ideal for someone who doesn’t like the s-e-a. My middle name is Grmbhhyfrw, a word with no vowels and completely impossible to pronounce.
My motto in life always used to be “You will find that everybody is good if you take time to get to know them”. To test this theory, I invited the Devil to our wedding. I’m sorry to say that he yawned during the Best Man’s speech, so now my motto is “You will find that everybody is good, except for the Devil who can be very rude at weddings.”
My wife is still the Prime Minister, I am still the cleverest man in the whole wide world and we still have plenty of money left over from my success on “Who Wants to be a Zillionaire”. But when I was younger, so much younger than today, I never needed anybody’s help in any way. Now I need a butler, a gardener, a cook and somebody to put the toothpaste on my brush.
There are three things that irritate me: empty staplers, umbrellas on a windy day and smug-looking cats that think they know everything. If these cats were really that clever, they wouldn’t spend all their time chasing mice while being chased by dogs. They would get out of the way and let the dogs chase the mice.
Anyway, I’d better stop writing this story now as I’ve got another job interview in a minute.
Fourteen times! That’s how many times I’ve told him. Fourteen times!
By the way, my name’s Emily Jones. Hi! I’m writing this so that future generations will know all about the problems I’m having with my brother. I’m going to bury it in the garden and one day it will be found and they will be shocked to read about what a pest he is.
His name is Daniel. He’s only seven, but I’m eleven and a half.
Anyway, as I was saying, fourteen times I’ve told him to knock before he comes into my bedroom. There’s a big sign on the door that says “If your name is Daniel, knock!” But he just barges straight in.
He’s such a numskull. He thinks that Queen are a better group than the Spice Girls. In case you don’t know, the Spice Girls have sold more than 15 million records and been number 1 in 15 countries. They were voted the best group ever. I’d be surprised if Queen have sold a hundred records. Dad says that Queen are very popular, but I think he’s just saying that to cheer Daniel up.
Last Tuesday he spilt blackcurrant all over my library book about the Romans. Mum just told me to stop hitting him. She always takes his side.
And he’s always copying me. If I get my drawing book out, he gets his drawing book out. If I get my Spice Girls sticker book out, he gets his football sticker book out. If I want to buy a dinosaur key-ring from the Natural History Museum, he wants to buy a dinosaur key-ring from the Natural History Museum. If I want chocolate chip ice-cream, he wants chocolate chip ice-cream. If I want vanilla ice-cream, he wants vanilla ice-cream.
He’s such a copy-cat. He can’t think for himself.
And he’s got no idea about fashion. He wears the same old blue jumper every day and his trainers only cost four pounds (they were actually 3-99 but I always forget about the penny because its quicker). He walks around with his hands completely in his pockets, but I just put my thumbs in my pockets and leave the fingers sticking out because its far more fashionable. And his hair is always sticking up in the mornings – I don’t think he knows what a comb is!
Last Tuesday, about 25 minutes before he spilt the blackcurrant, he climbed up to the first branch of the apple tree. He called Mum and Dad out to see and they said “Well Done”, but he was only on the first branch. A baby could climb higher than that. I would have probably climbed to the top branch, but I had my new shoes on which cost 10 pounds (9-99). They’ve got 2-inch platforms and red laces. Daniel’s trainers have got velcro because he can’t even do up laces.
Last Tuesday, about one hour and fifteen minutes after he spilt the blackcurrant, he was doing his homework sums. They were really simple. We get long multiplication and long division to do, but he was doing things like 3+3 and 5+2. He thought that nine plus three was 13. See what I mean? He’s completely useless. I’ve always known that nine plus three equals 12.
I’ve got a CD player in my room now, so I can listen to my music in peace and quiet at last. It was made in China and Dad says this means it’s good quality. If you shut your eyes you would think that the Spice Girls were actually in your room. Mum says she wouldn’t want the Spice Girls in her room.
Daniel thinks he’s so grown-up, but he’s not. I’m allowed to walk up to the shop on my own to get some milk, and when I’m twelve I’ll be able to cycle to Emma’s house. That reminds me, Daniel’s bike is so small and it’s not even a mountain bike. He’s put some Flapper Zappers in the spokes because he thinks it makes the bike go faster, but it doesn’t.
And he’s always getting me into trouble when I haven’t done anything. Once I saw him licking some chocolate off one of Mum’s new cakes, and when I told her she just told me off for telling tales. That’s not fair is it?
Also, he hogs the computer for hours. When I need to do some important work with my Barbie game, he keeps playing Monster Bash over and over and over again.
Daniel’s just so annoying. Life was much better before he came along. I wish I had an older sister instead of a younger brother, because Emma’s got an older sister and she’s really nice.
My favourite colour is dark yellow and my favourite shop is Bangles because its got all sorts of priceless jewellery such as hair-bands, necklaces, and ear-rings. I was one of the first people in my class to have their ears pierced. Emma hasn’t had hers pierced yet, but I still like her. She says she can’t have them pierced because they are infected. I pretend to believe her, but really I think her Mum won’t let her.
When I was young I thought I’d never be allowed to have my ears pierced until I was 18. It doesn’t hurt, but I definitely wouldn’t have other parts of my body pierced like the man I saw at the bus stop. He had 5 rings in his right ear, 3 in his left ear, one in the corner of his eye, and a big ring through his nose. I didn’t stare because I didn’t want to embarrass him.
Apart from my brother, my family includes other people such as me, my Mum and my Dad. My Mum complains a lot because she does all the work around here. My Dad is always watching football on TV. He says the government pay him to do it, but they don’t.
We also have a ginger cat called Ginger. Well that’s what I tell my friends. They have all got pets so I pretend we’ve got one too. When they come to visit our house I tell them that Ginger has gone to the vet’s for a check-up. Dad says he hasn’t got time to watch football AND look after a cat.
I have lots of friends as you would expect. My first best friend is Emma Thomas, my second best is Jessica Barnes, and my third best is Natalie Wilson. Julie Banks used to be my third, but now she is seventh because she broke the lid off my pencil case.
There is a boy in my class that I want to marry when I’m 22. I’m not going to tell you his name because its a secret and only Emma knows. He spoke to me in September but I ignored him because I didn’t want him to know that I love him.
If you are reading this in the future, you may wish to know about the sort of civilisation that I live in. Well, it is a very advanced one with many well-designed gadgets to make everyday living easier. For example, our televisions are now linked into the BBC by a cable, which means there are many more channels to choose from. These extra channels provide important information on earthquakes, shopping and sharks. Previous civilisations did not have this luxury.
We are doing a school project on the Romans. They were also a very advanced civilisation, but all their gadgets were lost underground when they became extinct. Their main interest was mosaic floors, which were very comfortable to walk on. They were also very advanced at making fine Roman pottery, which made it easier to store good wine.
You are probably wondering why I have stopped talking about my brother. Well, I have decided not to mention him again because of his bad attitude.
He’s such a dork. Last Monday or Wednesday he wanted me to pretend to be an acorn growing into a big oak tree, because he’d learnt how do it at Drama. But I refused because Geri from the Spice Girls says that Girl Power is all about doing the things in life that you want to do.
Anyway, I hope you have enjoyed reading all about my life, and I’m sorry about my brother.