Some of you may have been wondering where I was and
what I was up to for the last while and the simple answer is
that it's none of your damn business, sorry, only joking.
Funnily enough , the truth is much stranger than any
fiction my warped mind could conjure so brace yourselves,
pour a stiff one and sit back while I relate all that I can
remember about the beginning of an eventful time. If there
is any lie in what follows, it wasn't me who put it there and
all characters are non-ficticious.
Malicia and me had been going through one of our rough
passages, not the marriage, I hasten to add, that was as
bad as ever and nothing changes there but financially
things were getting a bit ropey with some of the tenants
falling behind with their rent. Then there had been a
series of bad decisions made on the oul' equine front but
worst of all my Organic Local Farmer's Market stall had
been closed down by the Corporation because of a raft
of spurious suggestions, allegations and petitions that my
goods were not organic or local and furthermore had the
flimsiest aquaintance with farmers of any description. I
might be able to grow figs, kiwi fruit and blood oranges for all
they knew, the fuckers, organic ones at that.
Things had become so bad that Malicia had to forego her daily
chin, moustache and leg waxing sessions and go twice weekly
instead. If the situation got any worse I would have to send
some of my girlfriends back Pole-dancing while any further
deterioration in my finances would necessitate taking some
of the Gardai off my payroll, don't talk to me about appalling
So there I was one morning about to start a busy day at the
office, i.e. log into Betfair, when I decided to check my
e-mails and holy fuck, hadn't all my prayers been answered.
There it was, in black and white, hadn't I only gone and won
$ 1.5 million on the Nigerian Lottery. Now this was a complete
surprise to me as I had completely forgotten to play it that
week so I could only assume that they were working a back-
week or something like that. Now I know what you're thinking
and I had heard some vague rumours as well about possible
scams emanating from Nigeria but this notification was from
a bank manager so God bless their little black arses was all I
could think, my just reward for all the pennies I gave to
" the Black Babies " as a chiseller, fair play to me. All I had to
do was to send some of my bank details to a Mr. Mbosi at the
Royal Nigerian Bank in Lagos. Fuckin' sure, says I, and I did.
I suppose you know whats coming next, well you don't,
smart-arse. I went on an unholy bender for 10 days and
only finished when I came to in Holyhead in a taxi on the
way to a Registry Office where a "Quare One " had
persuaded me to marry her, but thats another story and I'll
tell you about it some other time.
So I sneaked home, waited for Malicia to leave and went in
to check the mail. Sweet Gee, do you know what was left in
my bank account, of course you do, there was sweet fuck-all.
The sneaky fuckers had only gone and sucked out my com-
plete overdraft of 167,453 euros and 49 cents, which the
bank had been trying to retrieve for ages, and left me with
no hold over the bank manager, and worse still, no winnings.
Even to my addled brain those exchange rates didn't calculate
correctly and $1.5 mill. did not equal E 167,453.49 so I
reckoned someone owed me about 950.000 euros, fuck it,
call it a million and I'll say nothing. Now, who to collect it
from ?, and where could I find this little bollix, Mbosi.
You won't believe this, but just then the 'phone rang and
who do you think it was, yes, some fucker selling kitchens,
and while I was giving him his pedigree the 'phone bleeped
and this time who was it only the bould Mbosi himself,
bold as brass.
" I think we should meet, Mr Barney. " says he.
" Theres some explaining to be done all right." says I.
Which is how I found myself in the top floor suite of
the Sheraton Lagos Hotel and Towers.