What your mother didn't tell you about sex.

This lovely December, I’ve been hanging with my similarly geriatric pals and family, spending time in bars and clubs that play real music, music done before a girl became famous for wearing meat and such like nonsense, but despite this, today’s soundtrack is the one song I haven’t heard yet.  Folks, it’s a crying shame that this classic has been relegated to our collective rusty memories.  Salt ‘n Pepa were the female rap crew of the mid 80’s through to the 90’s, earning respect for their funky beats and raunchy lyrics, this in an age of gangsta rap that more often than not included frequent references to dealing crack and shooting bitches in the face.  For those of us who were teenagers when they came out, these women showed us that rap was not strictly for men, and that a rapper could also wear luminous green tights and boots and still look bloody good.  I, for one, took their various lessons to heart and to this day often insist on talking about sex…

Now we talk about sex on the radio and video shows,
Many will know anything goes,
Let's tell it how it is and how it could be,
How it was and of course how it should be,
Those who think it's dirty, have a choice,
Pick up the needle, press pause or turn the radio off,
Will that stop us, Pep? I doubt it,
All right then, come on, Spin…

Every so often you’ll read a fluffy piece of nonsense in the papers extolling the virtues of sex aunts, therapists, experts, all manner of idiots (self) proclaiming great knowledge in (and they say this with a suitably snooty accent) the art of sex.  The way they tell it, we Kenyans are a bunch of repressed prudes lacking in sexual knowledge, or expertise, seeing as how we lack older and wiser members of society willing to divulge the secrets.  With the exception of a couple of tribes at the Coast, the rest of us hinterland types are ignorant, relying on imported Ugandan women and dodgy internet porn to educate ourselves on the finer points of carnal pleasure.  That’s what they tell us, but is that really the case?

Growing up in the 80’s, sex education was limited to a chapter in a science textbook, a (disturbingly) slim chapter with two drawings, one a full frontal sketch of a naked woman with her ovaries, fallopian tubes, uterus and vagina conveniently exposed, and a similar one of a naked man, but his with a convenient cross section of his pelvis, to show us his testes and penis, and nothing else.  The purpose of these drawings was to show us why our bodies were changing (sprouting boobs and dropping balls) and how babies are made, because that could be the only reason for these changes.   Now when you’re in Standard 5 and the teacher tells you that sex is only for procreation, you do not question her wisdom, not until you get to Standard 8 and the boy you like pinches your tiny boobs, and you kinda like it.  As your hormones begin their ascendancy, you begin to suspect that there may be more to (said with a guilty whisper) sex than you have been led to believe.  Problem is, there’s no one you can talk to, save for your similarly ignorant friends and your oh so moral parents.  Suffice to say these conversations weren’t had, or if they were, seldom shed any form of useful light on the matter.

Fast forward to your early 20’s, you’re finally out of your mother’s house, with a bit more information in your pocket; you know to use a condom to avoid getting pregnant, because getting pregnant is the worst thing that could happen to you, HIV coming a distant second.  Whatever other nuggets you have in your youngling brain have been gleaned from the hasty fumbling of your youth (insert A into B, rub vigorously, wait for reaction), and cheap porn watched surreptitiously at your neighbour’s house party (insert A, or B, into C, suck vigorously, wait for reaction).  Your knowledge involves to how to get off, for boys, and how to get him off, for girls, as fast as possible.  The notion of sex as pleasure, and not just simple release, is so completely alien, you wouldn’t get it even if you were paid, and that’s to be expected.  Thing is, from what I’ve been reading this year, buggers still don’t get it, and they’re not even trying to.  Yes, the boys have learnt that getting the girl off can be a good thing, depending, and the girls have learnt to get themselves off, usually when the boy is not present, but the concept of pleasure, giving and receiving, I fear not.

Let's talk about sex, baby,
Let's talk about you and me,
Let's talk about all the good things,
And the bad things that may be,
Let's talk about sex…

Now I have been banging my better sex for all drum for about a year now, but I have an audience of fucking 22 (Get it?  Fucking 22?  Good, no?  No?  Ah screw you…), clearly my message is not getting across to the masses.  If the last week spent crawling from bar to bar was any indication, the days of instant, and mindless, gratification are nowhere near over, the younglings, and geriatric bastards, continue to pursue unsatisfying sex with reckless abandon.  Shame man!  Because I’m a kind and generous soul, and because I’m tired of having next to no options for a quality shag, I shall now endeavour to dispense some (possibly ridiculous) sex tips to you, the masses, all 22 of you, in the hopes that you will spread the love around and make us a happier nation.  I must warn you though, I will have to get crude, possibly cruder than usual.  That’s the disclaimer for all you fragile types who blush at the sound, or sight, of cunnilingus.  On the up side though, this brings my month of sewer to a delightful, if somewhat lengthy, conclusion.

I can practically see you clicking off in a huff as I type…

This is what your mother, or father, should have told you about sex, but didn’t, or couldn’t.  And yes, they can thank me later.

1.      Sex must always be safe.
I know, that’s the first thing you were told once you hit the age of consent, protect yourself.  What they didn’t tell you is that safety is not just about protection from disease and unwanted pregnancy, safe sex is also about protecting yourself, literally.  Violent sex is a not an option, unless you have given your explicit consent, and sex shouldn’t hurt, unless you want it to.  The men reading this are wondering what the hell I’m going on about, but this one is not for them, it’s for the ladies.  Sometimes you’ll shag a man who’s too vigorous for your liking, or who pushes you to do things you’re not comfortable with, or who insists on acts you perhaps consider demeaning, and you go along with it because he’s your man, your love, or your meal ticket.  No more.  If you’re sore, tell him to stop.  If pushing you into awkward positions hurts your back, tell him no.  If he insists on sticking his dick up your ass (and this is the one time I use that phrase literally) and you don’t want him to, then push him off and leave.  Your safety and comfort must always come first ladies, no matter how much you think you love the bastard, or his money.

2.      Sex is fun.
That I have to state this most basic fact is depressing, but there you have it.  Folks, there’s more to sex than the orgasm, and if you don’t know that then you are clearly not doing it right.  Slow down and take some time to appreciate the journey, there are many different levels of pleasure just waiting to be discovered once you stop focusing on the destination.  Am I being too cryptic?  I suspect I am, but this one is a bit harder to describe, no?  I used to think it was a chick thing, revelling in the pleasure before the come, until I finally met a couple of (grown) men who shared my thinking.  Call it age, or misguided wisdom, but sometimes a hand running down your back feels just as good as a tongue on your nipple.

3.      Sex is, in fact, quite dirty, and that’s a very good thing.
If you put two horny animals together they will make a mess, that’s just the way nature goes.  The idea, however, that this mess is a bad thing, a dirty thing that should be avoided, is simply ridiculous.  This is the one puritanical yoke round our necks that we must dispense with forthwith.  It’s only natural that you will feel the need to suck on each other, or that your body will emit all manner of strange smelling fluids, or that you sometimes shag while standing.  Get over it!  I assure you, the world will not end because you like to slap her on the bum from time to time.  Well, not unless she’s Mayan, and her daddy has a big stone calendar thingi in his living room, in which case you might want to tread carefully. 

4.      A blow job is about pleasure and power, for both of you.
A friend of mine once told me that a man never gets a blow job from his wife, something about the mother of his children sucking his dick being unacceptable behaviour.  Now if I was one of those buggers who likes to put pictures in their posts, I’d put up a picture of the look of sheer horror on my face when he said that, but I’m not, so I’ll describe it instead.  Think Jim Carrey in ‘Bruce Almighty’, after he asks ‘God’ how many fingers he’s holding up and he pulls out his hand to find seven… that’s right, I was in shock, and fear.  I don’t know if the blow job hang up is about the dirty sex thing, or if some people find it genuinely abhorrent behaviour, but I do know that I have never, ever, met a man who does not like to have his dick sucked.  Ever.  See the thing is, sex is about submission and control and taking a man in your mouth, or letting a woman take you in her mouth, is exactly both.  Sometimes you have to let go and give someone the power to give you pleasure, just like sometimes you have to put yourself in a position of submission to gain control.  Ladies, if you refuse to blow your man and he says he’s fine with it, he’s lying.  Gents, if you think asking her to do it is a bad, bad thing, loosen up and get over yourself, the world will not end because you came in her mouth, not unless she chokes to death, in which case you might have a hard time explaining her demise to her Mayan father.

5.      Going down on a woman is not a favour, it’s a basic human right.
In keeping with the sucking theme, you buggers need to realise that women like it just as much as you do.  Now our men, and I say this with what little respect I have left for you buggers, do not like to go down on their women, claiming that we smell funny, or taste worse.  Bollocks!  What you are too scared to say is that you have absolutely no idea what to do down there, so it scares you shitless to even try.  Fair enough, the unknown can often be a scary place to go, but allow me to educate you on the finer points of cunnilingus:
a.       Find her clitoris (here’s a hint, it’s not inside her vagina).
b.      The phrase ‘eat pussy’ is not literal, please do not bite her, ever.
c.       The lighter your touch the better.  Do not suck on it like it’s a thorn you’re trying to pull out of your finger, or press it repeatedly like a (possibly broken) door bell (there’s a joke in there somewhere…), that shit hurts.
d.      When she says stop, stop.
e.      Do not stop until she says stop.
And just for the record, if you have never gone down on your woman and she has never asked you to, either you’re a lucky man whose (unlucky) woman doesn’t know what she’s missing, or you have the most gifted fingers and she has no need for your mouth, or, if you use neither fingers nor tongue, she has someone else going down on her (why do you think Wafula at the gate is smiling at you like that?). 

I think a few more people just left…

6.      You have more erogenous zones than you think.
Thanks to the dodgy drawings we were subjected to, we erroneously believe that our sexual organs are limited to our mouths, boobs, asses and dicks.  Well I hate to break it to you, but they were wrong, so wrong, because for as long as there is a nerve ending on any given part of your body, it’s a zone just waiting to be discovered.  No really, the body is a veritable cornucopia of pleasure (how brilliant is that phrase?), glance, stroke, lick, suck, nibble and smell your way up and down each other, because you have 5 senses, so use them, all of them.  And because I know you’re looking at the screen with one eye right now, in doubt, I want you to try it for yourself, and if you prove me wrong, then I will buy you all the (probably cheap) whiskey you can drink.    

7.      You have a voice, use it.
I’m not telling you to become a screaming banshee, that shit only works in cheap porn, and stand-alone houses.  I’m talking about talking, literally.  It may come as a bit of a surprise to some of you, but your partner cannot read your mind.  If you want him to suck your toes, tell him.  If you want her to get all cowgirl on your ass, tell her.  Part of maturity, sexual maturity included, is knowing what you want and not being afraid to ask for it.  Note, I said ask, not demand, just because you have someone in your bed that doesn’t give you the right to insist on tying them up and whipping them with a studded harness, for example.  And just for the record, if you’re with someone and you don’t feel comfortable enough to ask for whatever (possibly kinky) little perversion is in your mind, then you need to consider that maybe you’re with the wrong person.  I’m just saying…  

8.      Your mind must be aroused too.
If I say any more about this, I will probably be lynched.  Ladies and gentlemen, its now official, your mind need to be turned on too, and don’t forget to take it to bed with you, the last thing you want is mind-numbingly boring sex.  Think of sex and your mind as Jay Z and Kanye, they’re both really good on their own, but together they are mind fuck brilliant.

9.      Getting naked is a process.
If you watch typical ‘bang bang’ porn, you know that the women first appear in scanty clothing, and then two seconds later they’re buck naked and, well, bucking.  If, however, you take the time to watch slightly more upmarket porn (read porn made with a female audience in mind) or erotica, or soap operas, you’ll notice that significant time is accorded to the whole ‘taking her clothes off’ thing, layer by infuriating layer.  Gentlemen, women like to be disrobed, not undressed, or, god forbid, stripped.  Understand that it’s not only about seduction, its also about comfort, getting naked in front of someone is intimidating for all but the most practised of langas.  The same way you have a brief moment of insecurity when you drop your shorts and wonder if she thinks your dick is fabulous, she’s standing there wondering if you can see her cellulite in that light.  Go slow, and reassure her.  I know, its a chick thing, but trust me, you want your woman feeling sexy when she’s shagging you, because that way she’ll shag you like a superstar, maybe even like a porn star. 

10.  Being naked is just as important as getting naked.
Its one thing to get naked with someone, but it’s another thing to be truly naked.  Having sex with someone is a level of intimacy that demands that you let your guard down, at least long enough to let go of your inhibitions.  In one of life’s more evil mysteries, the more you loosen up and enjoy yourself, the higher the stakes get, no?  The reason sex is so complicated is simply because lowering your guard increases your exposure, and the last thing anyone one wants is to be vulnerable to someone else, especially when the someone else in question is not someone you know well enough to trust not to hurt you.  I’m not going to sit here and tell you not to shag buggers you don’t know well, but I will tell you that to have great sex you might want to get to know the buggers a bit better, enough that you can lose yourself in the moment, without worrying who will find you when you’re done.  

My cheap 2 cents…

Yo, Pep, I don't think they're gonna play this on the radio.
And why not?  Everybody has sex!
I mean, everybody should be makin' love...
Come on, how many guys you know make love?

Come on, is this not a most classic tune?

Foolish is still a verb...

Welcome to THE Kai Nikii? FOOLISH PLANS AWARDS 2012, the annual roll call of idiots who have entertained and frustrated us this year.  We would like them to know that their efforts at stupidity did not go unnoticed, although perhaps they should have?

1.      Foolish Plan to get laid
Do you know just how foolish you have to be to win the same award twice?  This bugger, not content with losing his job over his last foolish plan, then proceeded to become a pimp, and a ho, simultaneously.  And his lawyer’s ‘naked woman and a naked prostitute’ comment was by far the quote of the year.  I love this little Frenchman, long may he shag!

2.      Foolish Plan to get others laid
This lovely, lovely man won his award on the spot for his visionary attempt to legalise prostitution in our capital.  It’s not so much that the plan was foolish, legalising what has been going on since the beginning of time doesn’t seem too irrational an idea.  The foolishness was in his thinking that a rational discussion could be had in our hypocritical society that specialises in preaching water and practising wine, and sodomy.  He should have made it law first, and then announced it to the masses.  Ah well…

3.      Foolish Plan to get a wife.
Can this man please get a standing ovation?  This genius took the search for a wife to all new heights, or depths, depending.  Just when I thought I’d seen it all, he popped up in my Saturday paper, restoring our faith in humanity’s unfailing ability to do the most foolish things, in public.  Strange thing is, I suspect his search was fruitful, I have a sneaky suspicion that this man is on his way down the aisle in the near future, and happily so.  What?  Stranger things have happened, no?

4.      Foolish Plan to be a wife.
You have to be a bit concerned when a woman takes to the media to announce her (alleged) nuptials, to another woman’s man no less, several other women’s man to be precise, and then declines to name said man, the man her baby is a spitting image of.  Say it with me…EH?  What the…?  More importantly, who cares whose woman you are, you daft girl?  This is the problem with our (fake) celebrity culture, the woman eradicates a couple of jiggers and suddenly feels the need to lay claim to the brokest MP out there, the one MP who’s spent more time in court over the last five years than that Waibara genius (he who paid an idiot to sit his exam, and still failed).  That takes skill, and a certain amount of foolishness.  Everyone please take note, it’s possible that a pretty face and a functioning brain are mutually exclusive, perhaps… 

5.      Foolish Plan to take over the world.
Again they make the list, again for all the right reasons.  Say what you will about us Kenyans and our peculiar tendencies, but dammit if our army didn’t kick some serious ass this year.  Unfortunately, they were kicking the asses of misguided souls who have visions of Mali-esque takeovers and Kano-type religious conflict.  The war has come home, and all because these geniuses don’t have the good sense to know when they’re beaten.  Incidentally, this is what happens when you ban Kung Fu movies, and Chuck Norris, you don’t know when to stay the fuck down.  Not to worry though, KDF will kick their asses again, somehow.

6.      Foolish Plan to take over the city.
The man got conned trying to con us.  Surely there’s an ISO certification for this level of foolishness…

7.      Foolish Plan to become president.
This genius thought a campaign built on the interests of the 1%, constantly talking shit about the 47%, repeatedly drawing on the fears of an impoverished middle class of the allegedly impending end of days, and the Chinese, repeatedly lying and flip-flopping all over the place (the man gave new meaning to the word mendacity, no?), he thought this was a brilliant plan to become the (not) most powerful man on earth?  Can you say delusional?   And speaking of deluded, Mama Rainbow and her coalition hopping antics of the past month have finally managed to do what the ICC and Miguna couldn’t, and that’s to expose Kenyan politics for the shameless farce it truly is.  We thank you for your service to the nation Madam.

8.      Foolish Plan to blame the devil.
“Dark forces made me do it!”  Really?  Pray tell, what else has shetani made you do, because there are a couple of incidents that have caused me some concern?  My friend, as the resident drunk in my local is fond of saying, when the devil starts to talk to you, do not talk back to him, just put your drink down and go home.  Really.

9.      Foolish Plan to blame God.
We know this man as the (former) face of Focus on the Family, he used to be on our screens almost every evening dispensing snippets of wisdom on how to raise our families all good and Christian like.  Those seemingly harmless snippets, however, were simply a smokescreen for his conservative ideology, a dodgy ideology they like to sell to us ignorant Africans under the guise of uplifting televangelism.  This bugger, not content with trying to rid America, and the ignorant natives, of soul-corroding sin (read homosexuality, and Obama), then took to the podium to blame the recent shooting at Sandy Lane Elementary on the decay of society and the subsequent divine retribution.  He said, and I will quote, “I mean millions of people have decided that God doesn't exist, or He's irrelevant to me and we have killed 54 million babies and the institution of marriage is right on the verge of a complete redefinition. Believe me, that is going to have consequences, too.  Now I often take to blaming God for all manner of misfortune in my life, erroneously so I might add, but to blame the Most High for a crazy bugger shooting children?  God?  Seems like a bit of a stretch, no?
10.  Foolish Plan to overthrow somebody, anybody.
This bugger has redefined special!  He got into bed with Jacob, and together they got rid of Thabo, and then Jacob decided he no longer needed the young man, but shock on him when the young man was not ready to be bumped off.  Juju, in his customary brilliance, has managed to piss off pretty much everyone, black people, white people, young people, old people, hell, I suspect even his own wife at the rate he’s going.  But for all his bluster, he couldn’t ‘Polokwane’ Jacob, seeing as how they kicked him out of the party, and now he’s up the proverbial shit creek without a paddle, which means he’s about to do something foolish, again.  Brilliant!

11.  Foolish Plan to get rich quick, or die trying.
It came to pass that some Nigerian gangsters (or oil marketers, depending on the version you read) thought to kidnap the mother of Dr. Ngozi Okonjo-Iweala, Nigeria's Coordinating Minister for the Economy and Finance Minister, either for a hefty ransom or in an attempt to force her to pay their ludicrous claims for oil subsidies.  The subsequent account of ransom negotiations and police investigations reads like a cheap Nollywood thriller, complete with betrayal (half the gang ran off with the chumz, and the other half got busted trying to get more), accusations and counter accusations, and the mandatory tearful plea for release.  Ma broda o… 

12.  Foolish Plan to get a raise.
They called it a retirement package, but we called it yet another scheme to fleece us, their employers.  Of all their foolish plans, and there have been many, too many, this was the one that will forever cement them in our (seemingly) fickle memories.

13.  Foolish Plan to not get a raise.
This bugger went and got himself fired.  And then he published a tell-all, or tell-nothing as it were, exposing his former employer as a bit of an unserious joker.  Meanwhile, he was trying to get paid, in court, by said unserious joker.  Good plan, no?  On the up side though, he became a superstar for all of one month, and his ‘Come baby, come!’ finally gave us a chance to use nonsense political phrases in the bedroom, and that’s always good fun.

14.  Foolish Plan to get onto the front page.
We’ve long become accustomed to this man unleashing the most ludicrous statements, but this one took the cup.  Its not that he felt the need to throw our collective hat into a ring we have no business even looking at, he’s been making this silly claim since kendo 1995, hell, katikati yao said the same thing in Beijing, four years ago.  The problem was that the PM chose to make this claim immediately after King David’s record breaking run, thereby stealing the limelight from a more deserving recipient, and in the process shining a spotlight on our, shall we say, inadequacies as a country.  Boss, when the entire world is talking about Kenya in a positive light, thanks to a moment of genuine brilliance, just shut up and smile, please.

15.  Foolish Plan to stay on the front page.
2012 was the year of plagiarism, and oh how they did it so well.  The Iranian FARS geniuses, and they truly are the most brilliant geniuses of the year, not only plagiarised an entire news story, it was a fake news story, so fake it was literally laughable.  They have earned themselves levels of shame previously reserved for the North Koreans.  And then there was Mr Zakaria, (allegedly) esteemed columnist for Time and host of his own show on CNN, he engaged in the most foolish example of cut and paste, he stole from a woman as respected, if not more so, than himself, and then he blamed his research assistants (read co-authors).  He got off with a minor slap on his wrist.  As did Ms ‘don’t write your ignorant filth on my wall’ Mutoko, she who didn’t, to my memory, have the basic courtesy to admit the error of her ways, because lifting damn near entire blog posts is nothing to be ashamed of in her misguided universe.  Suffice to say whatever she says is now taken with a pinch of salt, well, a bigger pinch of salt given that she was never the most credible of (and I use this term most loosely) columnists.  Note to all, there’s a reason it’s called the World Wide Web, you may have the internet, but so do we, and we have Google too, so there!

Happy New Year folks.


The end is (not) nigh!

You gotta love the Mayans, those negroes are the shit!  Yes, I called them negroes, don’t be fooled by their light skin, anyone who has the good sense to stick the end of days in December, on a Friday, giving us the ultimate long weekend, well that bugger has to be a black man, in colour or in spirit.  And it gets better, not content with their modest achievement of getting the whole world (read America and China) to sit up and start planning for their imminent demise, they’ve then figured out how to make a dollar or two off the foolish white man, Mysticism, Internet fuel Mexico's Maya ‘Armageddon’ fears.  Says one Jose May, a Merida tourism official of Maya descent, over in the Yucatan peninsula, same peninsula currently home to some thousands of crazy people, happily waiting for god only knows what, “If people who believe in this joke want to come, let them.  Nobody here believes that. Those people were sold an idea.”  Ah Jose… tell me that man is not a black man?  These buggers may very well be our ancestors, but for a slight genetic mix-up.

Now the end of the world, real or imagined, is not complete without the mandatory Prince soundtrack, because no one does the end quite like the man who once was a symbol.  This bugger… there are some musicians I cannot talk about, not because there’s nothing to say, but because there’s too much to say.  The man is brilliant, and strange, and he does things to a guitar that I sometimes suspect are beyond the comprehension of us mere mortals.  If you don’t know, then you need to learn.  I’ll leave it at that.  The song is not ‘1999’, because we did that when the world ended 12 years ago, this time we’re doing ‘Sign O’ The Times’.

Hurricane Annie ripped the ceiling off a church
And killed everyone inside
You turn on the telly and every other story
Is telling you somebody died
A sister killed her baby
'Cuz she couldn't afford to feed it
And we're sending people to the moon
In September, my cousin tried reefer
For the very first time
Now he's doing horse, it's June

As much as I am a sceptic, and I’m pretty sure the alleged prediction was nothing but absolute and utter hogwash, all week I’ve been thinking to myself, so what if it really is the end?  And is it going to be like the rapture, with only a few of the chosen disappearing, or will it be all of us going off to heaven, or hell?  Being the special Kenyan I am, I can only think in third world terms, thus cannot conceive of an afterlife with enough room for however many billion people we are, which can only mean that not all of us will get to exit this planet, if and when the time comes.  This in turn means that there is a possibility that we could arrange for the removal of certain choice characters, no?  Think about it, if a rapture like event was to occur in Kenya, there would be separate lists for raia, VIP’s and VVIP’s, and another one especially for politicians and idiot press, because no one wants to go where they’re going, right?  I’m thinking, in true special Kenyan fashion, that I could probably pay someone to add a couple of names to the list of those who are leaving us.  Hell, for that privilege I’d give my left boob, but only if results are guaranteed, because I like my left boob, the right one not so much but the left is damn near perfect.  I digress... 

To this end, I would like to propose the Kai Nikii? list of seven people we would be better off without.  Understand this, I’m not proposing death or anything, I’m thinking more along the lines of relocation to a distant land, with the right to return guaranteed once amends have been made.  I am, after all, a democrat.

1.      She who does the news on CapitalFM.
Now I’ve been listening to this woman from back in the day when she was at MetroFM and she used to play some kickass R&B in the morning, but her continued abuse of names cannot be allowed to continue.  So help me, if she butchers Gbagbo one more time…  For crying out loud woman, there are two g’s and two b’s, admittedly with one g silent, but how on earth do you end up with Gabo?  Eh?

2.      CapitalFM promotions department, if there’s such a thing.
I’ve also been listening to Capital since they came on air back in the 90’s.  I have mourned the exit of brilliant ones (Ah Leo…long may you live in my memories) and celebrated the demise of spectacularly crap ones (fare thee well Mr Foot), but now I think we’re finally done.  Problem is, these buggers have realised that we don’t pay attention to the crap ads they air (why are radio ads so horrible?), so they’ve decided work the ads into their regular nonsense chatter.  I know, everyone does it, but Capital have taken it to all new heights.  Remember when TNA was being launched and they spent a couple of weeks running their ‘I believe’ campaign, without telling us that it was a promotion for (what is allegedly) a political party?  By all means, peddle whatever shit you feel the need to peddle, but know that I’m gone, I’ve hama’d to Hot96, those buggers have all of 3 ads, all day.

3.      The genius who told EasyFM that we want to hear the same 10 songs, all day, every day, forever.
I’ve never understood how NationFM became MonotonousFM.  Nation, back in the days of Munene, Teddy and Ngatia in the morning, was the shit, and then some marketing genius came up with the brilliant plan to play only one type of music.  What the?  On the up side though, at least they didn’t pick Country, I suspect the same Don Williams song for a week would drive me to drink, well, drink more.  That genius, he must be removed from our midst forthwith, idiot went and messed up what was once a great radio station. 

4.      The geniuses who thought to put roundabouts UNDER the superhighway. 
I like the Chinese, they’re kinda like negroes too, what with summary executions and rampant corruption, no?  Unfortunately, their nyeuthi tendencies extend to their road designs.  The whole point of the highway was to get rid of the roundabouts, not to move them.  That said, there is now a real highway where there was practically none left to talk about, so only the two or three designers who came up with this little piece of brilliance have to leave, the rest of you lovelies can stay and keep giving us lovely yellow yellow babies.  Long live the Chinese!

5.       The traffic cops at the roundabouts on Uhuru Highway, and the geniuses at City Hall who haven’t thought to simply sort out the traffic lights, maybe even, oh I don’t know, switch the damn things on?
I’m not sure what the plan is, but I’m pretty sure it stopped working like 5 years ago.  Its time to stick these geniuses on a plane to a far off land, never to return until they master the fine art of counting to a hundred, or using a stopwatch. 

6.      The shitty tailor who makes cops’ trousers.
We have a new katiba with a shiny bill of rights that guarantees our right to dignity.  I would like to propose that dignity be extended to cover the uniform of our security officers, because there is something cruel and unusual about the crap trousers, and boots, they make these buggers wear.  If you insist on having these men and women stand in the hot African sun all day, then at least give them comfortable, fitting, khaki pants, pants that reach their ankles.  And get them some decent boots for fucks sake.  What’s that?  You can’t afford it?  This from the government that spent 7.2B on what looked to me to be a laptop connected to that thingi for scanning bar codes at the supermarket?  But I digress…  The government tailor, he must go, for crimes against human form. 

7.      Jubilee and CORD, and maybe even the other one whose name escapes me (because it’s clearly not memorable…)
Someone has to say it, might as well be me.  These buggers, and I’m referring to all of the powers that (claim to) be in those alleged coalitions, from the communications twats to the chairmen to the various candidates on billboards all over the place, what the hell kind of crack are these idiots smoking?  These geniuses are everywhere you look, constantly saying shit, but for all the noise they spew they are all saying SWEET FUCK ALL.  They must go.  It’s not even that I disagree with their (and I use this term loosely) politics, I’m just tired of the endless bullshit lies, lies and alibis.  Go away, please.   Incidentally, if what I saw jana on TV was true, the world did in fact end on Friday, and we are now stuck in a horrible afterlife.  Katikati yao in a loving embrace with Jakom?  But si a few years back they said, and I quote, “In hell!”?

Sign 'o' the times mess with your mind
Hurry before it's too late
Let's fall in love, get married, have a baby
We'll call him Nate, if it's a boy


Merry Christmas, my lovelies.


We don’t have to take our clothes off, to have a good time…

It occurs to me that we spend an inordinate amount of time trying to get each other naked, frantically pursuing the sight of bare flesh like our lives depend on it.  Now while I am quite fond of the whole process of undressing a suitably desirable man, and having him undress me in turn, I’ve come to realise that there’s something to be said for keeping your clothes on, well, most of them.  See, when its time for a quickie, possibly in a slightly public location, you don’t need to be stripping down to your birthday suit.


You didn’t really think I was going to sit here and preach abstinence, did you?  What kind of cheap crack are you smoking, you poor creature?  Si I told you I’m in the sewer all month?  You weren’t listening, were you?  You just shook your head, didn’t you?  Useless buggers…  As always, the disclaimer must be given, walk away if you’re feeling a little fragile.  This is about sex, and not just any old sex, nasty animal sex, the type of sex that doesn’t involve extensive preparation, or even extensive foreplay.  Stop frowning, I know you do it, too, every so often you get so hot for that idiot you can’t help but jump him in the car, or office closet, or your kitchen floor… shit happens, no?  No?  Hmmm… 

Conventional wisdom has it that the quickie is the preserve of new lovers, still basking in the shininess of their recently discovered lust, revelling in the pleasure of being able to shag like rabbits all day, every day.  The dopamine high you’re on pretty much guarantees that you crave sex every time you set eyes on each other, with the same high pretty much ensuring that your mind is addled enough to forget about propriety.  What I’m saying is that you’re so fucked up, your inhibitions regarding, say, sex in an elevator, are being overridden by the lust clouding your vision and steering your gonads.  It’s all you can do not to jump the poor bastard right then and there.  The quickie is also associated, some would say unfairly, with illicit sex, and is seen, on TV at least, as the sex of choice for cheating bastards, seeing as how their choice of staging locations is limited.  Think about it, on screen, sex between loving partners is all soft lighting and shags involving strawberries, but sex between the sneaky bastards is a sordid, yet steamy, romp on a staircase.  If Hollywood is to be believed, quickies are only for bad, bad people, and the rest of us good types need only concern ourselves with ‘making love’.  Eh?  So either I’m shagging a new man, or cheating on an old one?  What a load of complete bollocks, no? 

Do you think that because you’re in a loving relationship with a good God-fearing partner, there’s no place in your relationship for such sordid matters?  Or is it that you think sex has to be a marathon love-making session, complete with scented candles and matching sheets, on your bed?  You think that sex is a special bond shared with someone you love, and engaging in such base activities demeans your bond?  Only bad boys and girls have quickies?  Only a slut, male or female, has sex on the floor?  If you answered yes to any of these, really?  No really, really?  Ah well…  Folks, while I appreciate the significance of sex in a relationship, the emotional bond created when you shag someone (repeatedly?) and the intimacy of the act between lovers, sometimes sex is just that, sex.  I’m not saying there’s no love in a quickie, I’m just saying that sometimes sex for the pleasure of sex is a good thing, and a quickie is about pleasure, simple pleasure.  The quickie is the tangy starter, or sweet dessert, to the buffet that is sex, a bite-sized piece of pleasure, swift, but intense, release, just think of it as a mutual wank. 

I think I had almost managed to convince the righteous amongst us, until I threw in that crass piece of wisdom, no?  Moving on swiftly…

As with all things sex, there’s always the chorus of (un)suitably restrained people, frowning on the masses succumbing to their animal instincts, gorging themselves on sexual pleasure like the end is nigh, engaging in shameful exhibitionist displays in all manner of inappropriate places, like a beach.  For the more uptight amongst us, the lack of control and the willingness to engage in reckless behaviour, that’s a bad thing.  How dare you succumb to your base desires, have you no shame?  For those of us who were brought up in religious homes, and that would be most of us, this is the default setting, no?  Our parents taught us that sex is a ‘bad manners’ thing, restricted to adults and only in the confines of the tightly locked bedrooms, lessons we, unfortunately, took to heart.  Problem is, anything forbidden inevitably becomes something of desire, no?  Thanks to being constantly bombarded with the ‘sex is a dirty thing’ message, it’s no wonder our generation is a bit of a whore.  Now I’ve concluded that these repressed upbringings are the reason why quickie sex, with all the hasty fumbling and energetic thrusting is the reason it remains one of women’s favourite fantasies.  Us women we fantasise about passionate sex, hot, reckless, sometimes dirty sex, because that’s the one thing we are not supposed to have, because we’re such good little girls.  And because I know you don’t believe me, you sceptical bastards, I have proof, Women’s top 5 fantasies and Female sex fantasies. 

From what I’ve read, the spontaneity of the quickie is the reason it inspires strong reactions across the divide.  Some see it as passionate, an impulsive act, liberating almost, a return to simple sex, without all the bells and whistles R&B songs tell us we must have.  According to the many (alleged) experts in No time for sex?, having a quickie will, among other things, recharge you.  Well, woohoo!  They also say that you can have an ‘emotional quickie’, all tantric-like with much staring into eyes and what not, so perhaps theirs is advice to be taken with a pinch of salt.  That said, its no coincidence that when couples are looking to rekindle the flame, the first prescription is the quickie, it’s an attempt to turn back the clock to the dopamine days of when they first met.  Now if the lovely gentlemen of AskMen are to be believed, men are always ready for a quick shag, but us women, not so much.  Gents, before you pounce on your woman you might want to read Quickie Sex Etiquette.  For the lazy ones amongst us, I’ll summarise, “so long as you keep a woman's mind excited, her body will follow”.  I’d just like to point out that I said exactly that, many months ago, but did you listen?  Nooooo…  Bloody Nkt!  Lastly, because I’m thorough, here are 8 sexy locations for quickie sex, complete with recommended positions, although you might want to modify this list to suit your (presumably) local setting.  I’m just saying, that list will work in New York, but you try pulling that elevator stunt in Nairobi and you will be locked up for terrorism before you arrive at your destination.

The point to all this?  Once in a while, not all the time mind you, it would be nice to have an uncomplicated shag, one that does not involve elaborate rituals before, and possibly after.  One that has more to do with satisfying desires than ‘showing your love’ or such like nonsense.  A shag that, while extremely short, is intense enough to scratch that most primal itch.  Ultimately, the appeal, or possibly therein lack of (I can’t imagine why), of the quickie lies in the impulsiveness of the act, its passion and not much else, with the added bonus of the inherent risk (seeing as you didn’t plan, and therefore will most likely be shagging where you perhaps shouldn’t be shagging?) only serving to make it all the more exciting.  My people, your mission this holiday, should you choose to accept it, is to go out and have a quick fuck.  Go on, indulge yourself with something foolish for a change, this life is serious enough without complicating sex any more than we absolutely have to.  Just remember to keep some clothes on, in case askari shows up, with his rungu.  And by rungu, I mean rungu.

Which brings us back to the soundtrack, Jermaine Stewart’s ‘We don’t have to take our clothes off’.  Now back in the day when I first heard this song, I whole-heartedly agreed with the man, seeing as how I was kendo 10 years old and didn’t really understand what he was talking about, but it resonated with what the they were saying in Church and that was good enough for me.  Plus the song is very funky.  These days, however, older and wiser, I am deeply offended by the message. 

Just slow down if you want me,
A man wants to be approached cool and romantically,
I've got needs just like you,
Give me conversations, good vibrations, through and through,
So come on baby won't you show some class,
Why you wanna move so fast…

A man telling me to show some class?  A man?  Eh?  Dude, what the hell are you, a girl?  Perhaps.  After watching the video, and you really should watch the video, it occurs to me that his issues with women being too forward had nothing to do with the forward and everything to do with the women.  I’m just saying, when this bugger sang ‘Dont talk dirty to me’, I’m not sure we fully grasped his, umm, bone of contention.  On the up side, I can now blame all my grown up issues on my dodgy upbringing, listening to in the closet buggers like this one and what not…