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Prize for Satire

Made in Nanja 

Our democracy is twenty-one years old. This calls for a celebration; the type that requires Aso-Ebi and sumptuous jollof rice with chicken. It is a good thing to give thanks to God for keeping this unholy alliance together. Though many things have gone wrong in this our country, we are proud to flutter our flag though stained with the blood of innocent souls whose death always raises a dirge at nightfall in the North.

Prize for Satire

The many reasons why I am pro-abortion 

I own a penis. It is important to start with that. Why? My penis clouds my judgment. I don’t have the right to tell a woman what to do with her body, unless, I am pro-abortion. If I am pro-abortion, then it doesn’t matter if I own a penis or not. Bonus points if I am in a science-related field. My views will be all over the place. It is sheer arrogance for a penis owner to go against abortion. After all, penis owners don’t listen to vagina owners on health-related issues.

Prize for Satire

On mourning a son 

There are different reasons for which people may want to mourn a son. This guide is useful for those keeping their eyes on the big goals of their son’s property or their son’s wife. For eye-service tips on how to pretend you weren’t actually the one who killed your son, check out our guide on mourning louder than the bereaved here.

Prize for Satire

The horrors of homosexuality 

While the world is being torn apart by viral pandemics, cases of rape, murder and the likes, let us put that aside and focus on a more serious issue, the hideous crime of homosexuality. Could there be anything more disgusting than two humans of the same sex finding love and companionship with each other? Probably not. There is nothing normal about individuals engaging in intimate relationships that won’t result in making babies – totally unproductive and time wasting.

Prize for Satire

Beatitudes 

Because we wear white and black/because we stay under the brutal sun/we become brutal/’the government hasn’t paid us’ is now an anthem at the police college/we look the innocent with the eyes of a vulture/rifle on the head/ and siphon from their suffered pennies.

Prize for Satire

How to raise your children 

You must first give birth obviously, you must do this to please the neighbors, your parents need to carry their grandchildren, your church members, deacons who look upon you with indignation, your friend who have jokingly mocked you for been childless, your coworkers in the office and your village people, your relatives need to perform their tradition depending on the tribe you are from.

Prize for Satire

Political party preparatory election memos in Nigeria 

I’m delighted by your prompt response to my memo and the seriousness with which you are taking this into consideration. Going through your memo, it is obvious the party is set to go on with her primary election. Thus, aspiring members whom were not shortlisted will be officially disqualified on the grounds of campaign of calumny, dastardly acts and irregularities of credentials.

Prize for Satire

Beer parlour talk 

I had joined my neighbour at the drinking parlour the night before. He looked devastated, like one who was about to be drowned in perpetual sorrow. He was rarely like that, so I knew it had to be something serious. I quizzed him till he finally said something. Something that affected him, me, and every man in our community. He initially laughed at my colossal ignorance. ‘You no dey Facebook?’

Prize for Satire

To whom it may concern 

Boys are angels. Men are God-sent. I understand how magnificent the male child is every time my lungs expand and contract. The male child is gratified and society knows why. They have to be sent to school, taught to make money and be go-getters. The male child from the day they are born are raised to believe they can have it all, they should want it all and above all, they can get it all.

Prize for Satire

The Nigerian young adult manual 

God doesn’t make mistakes, at all. And Nigerians are proof of it. In His all-knowingness, He understood perfectly what being a Nigerian would entail, and on the Eighth day, while every other human specie had become ‘up and functioning’, He made Nigerians, with cement and a resilient spirit to absorb hardship, and melanin, lots of it, to absorb harshness from the sun