Living Single III

The decision I had to make was very clear.... RUN LIKE HELL!!!!  So I guess you know what I did... I decided I was going to pursue a liaison with Wande. Hey, I'm smart, not wise, plus at the end of the day, I am a man. What man could resist such a blatant come on? It takes not only a better man, but a celestial being to see the scene before my eyes and make the right decision.

I summoned my wife to a family meeting with immediate alacrity!
I informed her that having given the matter further consideration, it appeared that the best decision would be for her and Kitan to relocate to Canada. It was, afterall, the country majority of her family members live in and though it would  be tough not being with my family, giving them the best of life was my number one priority.
Motun flung her arms around me in gratitude. She did not even question my motives or the lightening speed with which I changed my mind. She automatically assumed that my reconsideration was for the reasons I had stated and why should she doubt me anyways? She kept on hammering on about how I was such a considerate man and how I know how much she needed a strong family network at this time. Yeah...yeah...yeah....all that...PLUS I need to get to know Wande away from prying eyes. I wasn't really well versed in the art of sneaking around. So, though I know I would have given it my best shot, were Motun to come back to Nigeria, it was all the more better for her to be away so there would be no interruption from any quarter. I sat there basking in my wife's love  and adoration, all the while knowing I did not deserve an iota of it.

 My first port of call straight from Muritala Mohammed International Airport was Wheatbaker, where I had emailed Wande and begged her to meet with me before I left my wife and son in the US. I was very nervous. It was our first date, afterall. Let me tell you, cheating is not really a default setting for married men. The guilt is like nothing you've ever known, the thrill supplies the adrenaline to counter the grief and keep the party going though. I was as nervous as a prostitute at a Bishops' convention. I kept fidgeting and a thousand thoughts ran across my mind. Have I been stood up? Worse still, have I been set up? Is Wande feeling me?

To quell my nerves, I picked up my phone and started barking orders at people. I was tapping away at my phone when I sensed Wande's presence.

 I took her in from the bottom up.

Black patent high heel shoes went up to legs that went on for days. I still marvel at how many ways I could twist those unusually long legs around my person, the legs were cut off not a minute too soon by a tight, purple dress that just barely covered her crotch. Tapered waist gave way to a luscious set of breast with the creamy tops peaking out from a deep vee. I had been scammed out of many hundreds of thousands of Naira many times by hair hawkers to know that her wavy hair was the highest caliber of hair from some part of South America or Asia. Her face was more gorgeous than I remembered.

She smiled at me and sat down with flourish, throwing  one impossibly long leg over the other.

"So" she began  "Ï'm guessing you liked my picture". The ice was well and truly broken and from all indications, so was my marriage.

After that, things progressed at the speed of sound. Wande and I ended up spending the night together. I don't know what I have been doing for thirty odd years of my life but I would say Wande was my introduction to sex. Sex took on a new meaning. I learnt new things. I mean, for crying out loud, I know what anal beads are used for !!!!! The illicit nature of the affair added to the 'can't get enough' factor. Wande and I went everywhere together and I damned the consequences. Sometimes, we would run into Motun's friends at clubs, restaurants etc and I would explain her away as my cousin. I did have a cousin that had some similar features so it was easy to use that line. Some of these chicks were unconvinced and would call Motun who would reassure them that Wande really was my cousin, Jibike and she would call me and we would joke about it. I could tell that the farthest thing from Motun's mind was that I would cheat on her.

 If she only knew.

Final installment next week. Cross my heart. Lol.  

Living Single II

Warning: Some sexually explicit content. Readers’ discretion is advised.  If you are under 18 stop reading now. Also if you are my brother A or my sister W, DO NOT READ!!! I WILL KNOW YOU READ IT AND I WILL KILL YOU. DO. NOT. READ.  Every one else, happy reading. Lol.

Throughout the meeting, Miss Olorede kept peeking at me from under thick fringe of her long lashes. She had a knowing look in her eyes, like she knew I was in 7 shades of hell and her body was the only solution. She would smile when our eyes met and bite on her luscious and full lower lip, each contact between her lip and teeth had a direct line to my insurmountable erection and every time I thought I couldn’t possibly get harder, I surprised myself.

 I knew at that point that Wande Olorede was trouble, but trouble I was willing and desirous of getting into, pun intended. I would have bitch slapped my mother if it would have expedited the opening of the sesame. The meeting dragged on and on. I had taken Wande on every available surface of the board room, in  my head. When the meeting was drawing to a close, I willed myself to think disgusting thoughts to help ease the hard on between my thighs. I stood up sharply to shake hands with everyone. When I got to Wande, I proffered my hand and she took it in a sturdy grip looking straight into my eyes.

“Miss Olorede” I began “It is nice to make your acquaintance”

She just smiled.

“Could I have your business card ? I could send some business your way...in fact, we are considering alternatives to our legal representation right now and I’d be happy to discuss what your firm could offer us by way of legal representation”

 “Excellent, Mr. Jessops” she replied “Our Client Relations Unit could send our profile to your head of legal”

 “No” I replied quickly “and call me Tade.  Here’s my card” I pressed my card urgently into her soft as sin palms “Forward your Firm’s profile to me and I will call you to discuss our options”. 

 I would have signed my Company up for a takeover at that point!  I knew she saw how desperate I was and she was just playing it cool.

She forwarded the profile and we started talking.  We talked for a few days, skirting around the issue of my desperately wanting her. I had to go back to America to check on my family. I told her I would be away for 2 weeks.  I still wanted her but my guilty conscience and the fact that we only talked on the phone was eating away at me and ebbing the desire a little and it was a tiny, little ebb, might I add.

On getting  to the States and seeing my wife and son, I declared within me that I would not do anything to jeopardize my family. Motun was much better and we were staying in a sub-let owned by my sister. We had a lot to talk about. Her job was offering her a position with higher pay but the position required that she move to Canada. She wanted me to weigh in on the offer. With my new resolve in mind, I flat out said no. I couldn’t make the move with them because of my business and I didn’t see why we should split the family up because of a job. She argued that it was a better job, she had a huge support system in Canada; her mum, step dad  and two older sisters lived in Canada, Kitan could go to great schools and the opportunity to apply for citizenship in a few years was also attractive. I was adamant in my refusal and she reluctantly agreed with me.

You know my new resolve....well... it lasted for all of four days.. I was going about my business, checking my emails when I received a mail from Wande. I thought it was the normal ‘hey how are you doing’ email. I opened the email and I had to look up quickly to ensure Motun was nowhere around. 

Wande had sent me a picture of herself with a vibrator disappearing into her, looking straight at the camera with a wink , with the caption: ‘Got Milk?’ I knew right then that it was all over.

To be continued...

Living Single

The idea for this story is credited to my cousin, L, and our conversations about this lifestyle. Please note: this is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to anyone, living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters are fictional and of my own creation. 

I cannot believe this has happened to me. How did I end up here???? Why did I end up here??? I mused as I raged against myself tears streaking down the corners of my eyes.

‘Sir, Miss Olorede is on the phone for you’ my secretary’s voice came over the intercom. I didn't bother acknowledging the information, so deep in thought was I. She buzzed twice and figured out I wasn't interested in responding. Smart woman. I swiveled my chair to face the wall, pondering the issues that have led up to this moment.

“I, Babatade Omotunde Jessops, take you Motunrola Omotilewa Giwa as my wife, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for richer, for poorer, forsaking all others, till death us do part”. 

That was four years ago. 

Thinking back to my vows, I actually meant every word. Motunrola saved me from myself. I was bent on self destruction following a devastating break up and Motun rescued me. I met her at the African Students’ Society of the University of Houston. I was the President and she was in a fashion show with my girl friend at the time. We became fast friends and when my girlfriend, who was 6 weeks pregnant and who I had planned on proposing to after my last exam, revealed that (a) the baby was an inconvenience and she had gotten rid of it and (b) she swung both ways and right now, the pendulum had swung to Tonya also from the African Students’ Society, I was heartbroken and needed a friend. Motunrola provided me with a shoulder to cry on. She would bring me meals and stopped me from acting the fool by calling either Sheila, the ex or Tonya, the ex’s current ‘girlfriend’.

Our friendship just grew and when I moved back home to start my NYSC, Motun stayed back and moved to New York to take the New York Bar exams.  We remained firm friends and I would randomly fly out to see her. She moved back home to attend the Nigerian Law School and serve while I started my own company. I was doing really well and it just made sense to ask her to marry me. She was single, I was single...during the day and when I wasn't sowing my wild oats... she was the only girl I could trust with my deepest, darkest secrets, she was a great listener, I adored her...it just made sense.

 I proposed to Motun on her birthday in March, 2008. I had taken her, five of her friends and five of mine to Tanzania for an all expense-paid, blow out birthday party. It was awesome and she said yes. We got married in January. By November, we were expecting our first child. I was crazy happy. I was making bank and Motun was earning passably well at her job in the Legal Department of a telecoms company. We decided she was going to have the baby in the US. I wanted the best care money could buy for my wife and first child. Motun took her maternity leave and shipped off to the States.   

Motun had our first child, Olakitan, in  August 2010. She suffered some complications so she was hospitalized for a while. I was at her side when Kitan was born but due to the complications, she was in the hospital longer then we had expected. I had some urgent meetings scheduled with my foreign Technical Partners back in Lagos, on the assurance of her cousins and my sister that she would be well looked after and with Motun’s blessings, I left for Lagos. Thus began my descent into the deep dark abyss my life has become.

I met her at the meeting with my Technical Partners. I walked into my boardroom and there she was, seated with the team accompanying the Technical Partners. Introductions were conducted. I wasn't interested in meeting others. I just wanted to know who she was. “This is Olawande Olorede, she’s a third year Associate with Coker, Ogunbonajo & Isaac, LP, our Legal Representatives" stated the moderator. The goddess looked at me through khol rimmed eyes and offered a demure smile. Though she was seated, I could tell a lot about her instantly. She was dressed in lawyer-garb; the smart navy blue dress, pearls on her neck and ear lobes, her hair pulled into a pony tail. She had carefully cultivated the appearance of a professional. But simmering underneath all that professionalism was an inner freak I could sense. Her eyes wrote all sorts of cheques I was certain her body would cash. I needed to get to know this girl. I forgot all about Motun, in pain, on a hospital bed. Instead, I spent the three and a half hours meeting trying to appear and sound intelligent while fighting to control my raging erection.

To be continued....

Chemical Romance

After my long absence, I have decided to return to the fray with a controversial topic. I'm sure you're wondering where this post is going. Just bear with me.

Is it just me or are there just like 100 dark skinned girls left in Lagos????  In the last couple of years...say 4/5 years now... I've noticed that the population Lagos girls have grown progressively lighter. I no longer recognize some people I went to secondary school with cos...well...they were dark back in the days! Everyone is now so light...no scrap that (as it is an insult to naturally fair ladies)...yellow and add the mandatory scary-inches human hair to the equation and you have armies of look-alike mammy waters wandering around Lagos. The dark skin is under attack and it is being eradicated on a daily basis.

I go to weddings and what I see is the stuff of nightmares. I see a girl, her face is so yellow she looks like she's jaundiced, her eye brows are arched to perfection, if she blinks fast enough, she may levitate with the length and volume of her fake eyelashes, some blush on her cheeks and she's sporting the mandatory ruby red lips coated with the Lagos girl must have lipstick, ruby woo by MAC if you don't own one, you will be run out of Lagos and your family shamed!!! . Here's where it becomes scary, I realize this girl is not a gremlin that has been near water and thus multiplied, but DIFFERENT GIRLS! evidenced by their different dresses and eye shadow colors and the different ways they have chosen to wear their obligatory human hair.

Do these scary B-words know they look alike and their faces frighten little children and me?When did we get so obsessed with reversing our skin color in the name of beauty?  What informed this decision? I was so concerned about this trend, I discussed it with a guy friend. His comment was startling and a revelation. Friends, I am what you call a brown skin. I have never harbored any desire to be yellow. My sister, W, is a dark chocolate. She is gorgeous!!! I'm surrounded by beautiful, dark skinned women and altering my skin color has never held any appeal to me. I am one of those that feel light skinned girls are attractive but very rarely pretty. It is not beef, but fact. I won't even date a light skinned guy cos I think they are too effeminate. These are just my personal 'prejudices', if you please.  So when I spoke to this guy, it was with a view of ascertaining why women felt that 'yellow' was synonymous with beautiful and if there was something fundamentally wrong with me for being content with my dark skin.

He told me that there is something special about light skinned women and guys found them highly attractive. He said dark skinned girls were the norm but a light skinned girl was a deviation from same. He went on to simulate two conversations between two guys one discussing meeting a dark skinned girl and the other discussing meeting a light skinned girl. I will paraphrase.

Conversation 1:
"Guy, I just met this babe! Mehn, she is fine and she set die!!".

Conversation 2:
"Guy, I just met this babe! Mehn, she is fine and she set die, she come fair small".

This blew my mind in ways I can't articulate in words. I mean, I understand preference, but I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Could this be the driving force behind the madness???I said to him that flowing from his 'norm'argument, dark skinned girls should be the 'ín things' now as they are more or less extinct. He just laughed. My off the cuff comment has proven to be more than just a hunch following two encounters I had and the remarks from those encounters.

I was hanging out with an ex of mine sometime last year and I was teasing him about his girls, saying I was sure after our break up, his current squeeze was a yellow, peruvian hair wearing babe (the conversation was funnier cos it was in yoruba) and he goes 'mi o ma le stand awon chemical girls yen' translation: Í can't stand those chemical girls. That was his name for girls that 'turned yellow'and it is the inspiration for the title of this post. I laughed long and hard.  My second encounter was with a friend I had been trying to set up for a while. I was describing an acquaintance to him as a potential girlfriend and I got to 'she's fair'and he said 'mi o fe omo pupa to ti bleach'. Which essentially meant he was averse to girls that decide to turn yellow. This then begged the question:who dates these girls????

I've been informed that this is a cost intensive enterprise and the vendors of the products are laughing all the way to the bank due to brisk business. My dark skin wishes it was so lucky that I would buy it tons of creams and soaps totaling thousands to keep it looking black. I am a huge fan of vasiline and I have used jelly in various forms for as long as I can remember.

There were some scarific pictures of two ladies making the rounds a while ago and there were lots of comments on that picture. See picture hereunder (viewers'discretion is advised)

My only thought was 'these idiots paid money to look like THAT??? They've been duped!'. It remains a mystery.

 But the propaganda of lighter being better has been subliminally passed across in the media. Before our very eyes, Beyonce went from a mocha to a vanilla latte. Music videos have gradually phased out dark skinned girls (I've taken to counting the dark girls I find in videos). You have artistes like Lil'Wayne openly declaring their desire to be with a 'red bone' even though you can tell their ancestors were 'field n****s' far away in the plantation picking cotton and nowhere near the Masser's house . On the home front, these clowns are on yachts parading with a bevy of white women. There's a song by an artiste known as 'Sexy Steele'a frankly disgusting creature, dedicated to South African girls and the video was filled with medium light to white women. The list goes on and on. The pressure is on and there's a temptation to second guess your skin color.  What are your thoughts on this chemical craze? Is lighter finer? Is bleached skin the new face of the African woman?

Meet the Parents

I just started dating my ‘bobo’. Yes people, the lonely days are over.  He is simply lovely. There are just no words. We are both a bit advanced in years; he is five years older than I am, so naturally, this is serious dating. To this end, family has begun to creep into the matter.

I’ve always wondered what it was like to meet “man’s” parents as a bona fide iyawo (no...creeping out of his room, one shoe in hand while attempting to wear the other, mascara halfway down your face, human hair a sorry sight and his mother catching a glimpse of your tore-up-from-the-floor-upness on her way to prayer meeting at 6am does NOT count as MEETING).

I got to find out first hand. I had romanticized it in my head soooo much...alas....c’est ne pas panadol as the popular advert says.

Let me tell you my head version of meeting the folks: a buxom semi-old lady who has the same loves and taste in lace and Ankara as me, will come rushing out of the bowel of her modest home somewhere in Lagos, arms outstretched and envelope me in a bear hug while in my peripheral vision, I will see a distinguished gentle man with a cane and possibly a pipe (why not a pipe and a newsboy cap as I’m building castles in the air) beaming gently while he shakes my hand (once his buxom wife has let go of me...of course) and giving me a back pat while he says in a booming voice “Welcome to the family, my dear” And I will do the Yoruba girl full kneeling and we would all walk back into the modest house, arm in arm, gisting while I decide I’m never leaving. Then I go on to raid the buxom old lady’s wardrobe (remember she has the same taste in Ankara) as she looks on indulgently while I cart away rolls and rolls of original vlisco Ankara.

Can anyone say “is this one high????”

First off, I’m not that forward. I’m not immediately chatty when I meet people. Very rarely will I initiate conversation in a circle I am not used to. Don’t get it twisted, I have been known to and will talk your ear off when I’m comfortable, just not immediately.

So Cherry, worrapoun?

That’s how my man invited me to his family’s New Year party in a deep surburb of Lagos, let’s not dwell on that sha. I was all “oh ok cool, will love to meet the folks”. As the date drew nearer, the kind fear I begun to feel was unknown to man. I pushed back pick up for hours and hours. Eventually, I knew the jig was up. I made my way to the deep surburbs, heart in mouth.  As we all know in a typical African setting, it takes a village, as such, “parents” is indicative of the ENTIRE family. Any one that is older than the bobo is some sort of father/mother figure in his life.

The reception was wonderful and I really should have felt at home. His mum met me at the gate with a massive hug and chided me for delaying pick up as long as I did while my man stood nearby; grilling and grinning.

I will take you through my three biggest fears.

1.      What to wear:

this was jamb o. I don’t think he appreciated how long it took me to find dress. All my clothes took on a stripper like quality: too short, too cleavage-y, too tight, too bright, too just not good enough. I eventually decided on the most ‘Mary-Amaka’ of my dresses; a black, flowery, boat neck, sleeveless dress with pleats. I looked like I was about to teach Sunday school. Things we do for man, eh. Mr. Oga’s lack of appreciation for the time and thought that went into picking the dress led him to say “your dress is nice but you should just be yourself”. The sideeye he received was brief (cos of his family) but sufficiently malevolent. Be myself ke? Ogbeni, park well! I was being myself, just in a longer dress than he was used to. The dress is the first impression before you open your mouth. An inappropriate dress will send the mother into a tail spin and if you’ve lost the mum, you’ve lost the war. There’s only so much of ‘omo ti o look responsible, yen’ that a guy can hear before he gets tired of defending your irresponsibly dressing ass for a chit more suitable for mummy. So if you’re intending to meet your man’s folks, I will suggest the following clothing items, Kaftans, Burquas (face veils, optional), lovely non-threatening knee to ankle length unfitted, dresses. Use a belt to define your waist and flatter the dress. Nothing fitted. You’ve been warned.

2.      What to say:

This one na die. In a house teeming with uncles and aunties, cousins and sister in law, brother and nephew, what to say will flee fast from your mouth, leaving you looking morose. I smiled a lot and I needed physio for my cheeks afterwards. I literally had nothing to say. Plus man was outside, determined to grill all the chickens in Lagos instead of being my ice-breaker. God is watching him. After a while, he handed me over to a cousin of his and we literally got on like a house on fire. I had been quiet for almost 2 hours periodically speaking to a friend of his, but for the most part quiet. But when I started talking to his cousin, my posture on the chair sef changed and we were just gisting away. His mum had to ask if I had met her before. Lol.

It is difficult to advice on what to say for the first meeting. But listening is a good skill too. Don’t knock it.

3.      What if they don’t like me:

I am adorable…if I do say so myself…and I do. This thought didn’t cross my mind until I realized I forgot my peace offering at home almost halfway to my destination. I’m like what kind of knuckle head visits a place for the first time and not take anything. I’m going to come across as completely mannerless to his folks. Then I had a healthy dose of…DAMN! They may actually not like me. That’s a real possibility. The cure for this lies in getting to the venue. They may or may not like you. Good luck on that one.

Anyways, you’ll be glad to know I got through it unscathed. His mum was nice. His dad is the silent, stoic type and I didn’t formally meet him, so no clue on his thoughts. His uncles and aunties are pretty nice. Promises were elicited that we would visit them individually and until such a visit, they ‘did not know me’.

It is one of the toughest things to go through in life cos your partner can’t feel it with you. They are his folks so they are nice. He is not being insensitive, those are just the facts. I’m glad the initial show-pony stage is over. But there are truck loads more to meet. Wish me luck.

Outrage: Dr Bello

I was sent this account of a new movie showing at Silverbird nationwide from a very enraged friend of mine called AA. She is so enraged, she wants to sue. And I say SUE...read on to understand her gripe.

My husband and I arrived the Silverbird Entertainment Centre in Abuja on Friday December 28, 2012 at about 8:00pm, with no particular movie in mind. Having had a tiring day at work with no time to check up the available movies, I relied heavily on the movie guide in selecting a movie. My attention was drawn to the movie “Dr. Bello” not just because it was tagged movie of the week, but also because the movie catalogue had the following information, “Starring: Maria Bello, Pierce Brosnan, Claudette Monk, Gerard Butler, Samantha Ferris” and a promotional image showing some New York buildings with a mountain in the background. 

See flyer for details ...

Fortunately it was delayed and was to start showing at 8:20 which made the timing perfect. Even more perfect was the fact that my husband loved Gerard Butler. So before he could take his time to locate an action movie or cartoon showing at the same time (yes, I said cartoon), I quickly pointed out that Gerard Butler would be on a screen by 8:20, so we decided to see Dr. Bello based on the information in the movie

catalogue.

We walked into the viewing room minutes into the movie and seeing Dr.Preston Burke of Grey’s Anatomy on screen seemed a good sign of the caliber of actors and genre of the movie. As a matter of fact, I thought he was Dr. Bello. I quickly took a glance at Mr. husband, already proud of my choice of a movie. We were lucky to get a good seat; the movie progressed with some white faces in an American hospital, and some shots of the empire state building. But that was it, there was one black face at the hospital, a janitor, so I thought oh well. 

Then there was Jimmy Jean-Louis, the Haiti born actor famous for his role in Phat Girlz and another black guy in a room. I’m no racist, I’m black. It’s just that when I see Gerard Butler and Pierce Brosnan on a movie schedule, I know what my expectations are, especially when you are a great critic and you’ve recommended a movie to Mr. husband who will be too glad to gloat, if your recommendation goes south.

In no time, we were in Nigeria, hearing recommendations about getting connected through MTN from Stephanie Okereke and Femi Brainard, heading to Olumo Rock, and then getting arrested by Jide Kosoko on the way to Ondo. By the time we got to Ondo with Genevieve Nnaji, we knew it was time to cut short our expectations. This was no more than an Africa magic production with a few shots in the US and a few white skinned folks. There was just no Gerard Butler in the movie called Dr. Bello, neither was there a Pierce Brosnan.

Was it a honest mistake or had Silverbird deliberately misrepresented the facts to the audience, to me most especially. Personally, I relied heavily on the movie catalogue in selecting a movie. After all, that IS the purpose of a movie catalogue. Plus, I don’t remember seeing a disclaimer anywhere like “silverbird will not be liable for any reliance on the information supplied in this movie catalogue” Dem no even born them. What then would be their job?

My Lawyer instincts tell me that I accepted to watch Dr. Bello, based on the representations made by Silverbird and furnished adequate consideration when I paid N3000 for two movie tickets for my husband and I, not forgetting the over-priced shawarma and fizz drinks. Once we realized there was no Gerard Butler, we were out of the screening room barely 40 minutes after we got in. I would like to think that I would be entitled to a refund or free tickets to see another movie for which I will not be relying on the

movie catalogue or perhaps a legal action may be appropriate in the circumstance because “When you purchase a product based on an ad or statement that you later learn to be untrue, you are the victim of false, or deceptive advertising. As a consumer you are protected against this type of advertising and can sue the business that released the advertisement or lodge a complaint against them to a state agency.”

Just so we’re clear. I’m not saying Dr. Bello is not a nice movie, I didn’t see it to the end so I can’t make that call. I’m saying thanks to Silverbird’s movie catalogue, I was too disappointed to appreciate the movie. Thankfully, Mr.Husband was magnanimous enough not to rub my choice of a movie in my face, but I’m personally seething at the misrepresentation and I must be appeased. 

I laughed long and hard when I received this because funny enough, Lagos traffic forced me to watch this drivel disguised as a top shelf movie. I laughed and talked all the way through...which would have been fine for a comedy but not for a 'topical, heart rending drama depicting sacrifice for our brethren, our hallowed educational institutions and our efficient police force' . Gimme a break! I saw the movie all the way and it was N1,000 terribly spent. I saw an opportunity to make a great comedic movie gone to waste. The only good thing they did was to showcase rustic Nigeria and its sights and sound. They just boobooed us with Isaiah Washington. The Lord is their strength!

On a legal side, false advertisement is a standards issue and legitimate expectation is also to be considered as reasons to sue. Someone should take this up with SON or the Films Board. It is the lowest, most disgusting form of trickery. Lagos Silverbird did not lie so blatantly and the sour look on the attendant's face told me all I needed to know about the fil so I did not have any legitimate expectations that were dashed like my darling friend. Take heart ehn. Let's fight the power. If you're suing, let's make it a representative action for all the bs times that my movie will go off mid-watching without any apologies. Silverbird nationwide have the worst staff EVER. I will be happy to join in and I have a cause of action: Silverbird sucks!

Thanks for sharing AA. I really loved the write up.