Author Archives: Our Sub-Urban Legend

Sseya’s Resignation Letter

Digged Out By Tom Rwahwire, The Legendary

Say Yeah

From: My names am Cold All Hajj Nasser Ssebbaggalla
To: Those of NRM

Re: Resignational Letter

Well Done

Me as Sseya am righting here to officially declare how am withdrawing my behind from you NRM.

This is due to many fax. Me I don’t like speculations, unless it is speculation of glasses to make me look more in delligents. I only deal in fax.

Fax number one: You deceived me that I was minister of Polio. Then now I hear there is campaign to radicate all Polio from Uganda. Now if there is no polio I will be minister of what. That is not a question. You have found me looking. I withdraw my behind.

Fax Number Two: I told you desire was my private parts. Instead you members of NRM sharing the photo of her nakedity on the NRM Whatsapp. Me do I fwd pix of your side dishes? I just chaw them and keep quiet. See your lives.

Fax number three: You hoes ain’t loyal. I wasn’t borne last night. When Amama was dismitted from prime impex you could not even DM me to see if I wanted? Okay keep. #YOLO

Those are all the fax I give. Look at them.

Now, you want me to tell you where I am going now that I have relieved myself from NRM.

First of all, as you all a wear, Sseya is big pimping. I am going to get sectual entercose from famous sex cymbals. Yeah. Who needs English with game this strong? You talk in English while I shag in Luganda.

Secondry am going to make a new party. DP are wiseacring on me. They don’t know I slept with their side dishes last night.

So am going to join Gagamel we make gagamel a political party. Gagamel has power. They have a generater. Then we make Bebe stand in twenty thouthand sickisiteen. Then he make me Minister of Polio AND also coccodiosis.

Then NRM comes to put behind on me I will kick it.

Nice Time
Sseya.

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THIS IS AFRICA

Those days of early internet in Uganda, you would enter a chatroom and people would be shocked that technology had evolved on the dark continent. Initially it was alright to just screw with the ignorant masses, but Denise has had it! No more will people be clueless about our beloved continent. If they are, it’s at their own risk. Take it away Ms. Kavuma.

We have come across these listed on some website or the other; seen them as small gags and shrugged them off or – and we know this is true – have actually believed some of them. You should know however, that the more documentaries you watch before taking a trip to this great continent, the less you’ll understand and that is always a recipe for disaster (or death depending on which rumors you believe.) So here, I explain a few of those silly things that have been whispered into your ears about us and I can only hope you’ll have the good sense to pay attention.

#5: Africa is not a country.

This might seem incredibly obvious, after all, everyone knows this by the time they’re 5 years old but you’d be surprised the number of times people assume Africa is one gigantic country – as seen from some unnamed prominent political characters. How many times must this be emphasized before people actually internalize it? Let’s take an example of the simplest of statements. Someone will say “I just came back from Hawaii” or even “we’re taking a holiday in Rome” but you’ll find most people saying “I’ll be in Africa for a couple of weeks.”

At this point, I shall point out that the continent has some 50 plus countries, with more than 3,000 distinct ethnic groups and it doesn’t kill you to be specific about them. Say “Ghana” or even “Uganda.” Who knows, you might get that rare awesome moment where you seem more traveled than you actually are when someone asks you “really? Where is Kenya?” then you can show off as much as you want.

Still doubting me? Well, let’s have a look at most of the Hollywood movies out there. Whenever there is anyone who comes from the African continent, they will have the exact same accent: ‘The African Accent,’ as I’ve dubbed it, and no one ever questions this. We do not all sound the same; emphasizing our ‘t’s and ‘d’s and speaking like dis wit a lot ‘o dem preTTy accenTs. If anything, that particular accent is unique to the western part of Africa where we have Nigeria and is not generalized to everyone. So, much like you can tell which part of England someone comes from by that tiny flair to their accent, we too, can tell which side of a particular country someone comes from by the way they sound, let alone the whole continent.

 

#4: we are not innate game rangers.

Remember all those movies you watched as a child where a touring party comes across a dark-skinned man who can somehow track the missing elephants with a single glance at the grass. Or perhaps you’re more the type who read a story of X!mbala the Mighty – or whichever demented book you came across – who defeated a shark with his bare hands and used the teeth as a necklace thereafter. Now, this is the part where understanding the definition of the word ‘fiction’ comes in handy! We do not raise children to wrestle animals from a tender age and pass down to them the secret art of game-rangery so they too can hunt like we do.

I mean, we do not believe that most Americans speak the way those girls do in all those celebrity reality series – or maybe you do, how should we know – so likewise understand that we do not fight sharks or have lions sleeping in our back yards.

Though technically there are game rangers who do have lions sleeping in their back yards but that can be explained by the fact that that ‘yard’ is actually the entire reserve park. Also, they have all kinds of magic items like black sticks that shoot out small metallic pellets with the sound of thunder to keep the animals at bay! Guns you call them; such sorcery is powerful!

Perhaps I should also make it clear that no one really hunts lions anymore and we are not good athletes because we are always running after or wrestling with wild animals. I do not even recall the last time I ran after a lion; it might be because I’ve never seen one outside a protective barrier but who knows, maybe I am going against my African genes.

 

#3: we don’t discriminate based on dress code.

The number of times I’ve met a foreigner who came to visit my motherland and assumed she had to carry long bulky skirts and loose ugly shirts to fit in only to find us dressed in leggings and jeans are simply too many to recount. It’s always the same thing with these people. I’d advise you to stop reading books written in the 60s by non-Africans no less; it’s a clear case of the blind leading the blind.

No, we do not dress in robes or bark-cloth anymore. However, if that’s what you’d like to see, we have museums for that! So don’t come carrying your stiffest, most uncomfortable clothes because you assume we shall burn you at the stake if you don’t cover your arms. Some parts of the continent are quite hot and all you’ll get for your efforts are hot flushes and sweat stains on dem pretty shirts if that’s all you come wearing!

Similarly, we understand that many non-Africans visit the continent for holidays, but for goodness’ sake, despite our having third-world countries, remember that we actually know what pajamas and bathroom slippers look like; after all, we own TVs as well! There are two extremes of vacationers! Those who come dressed like they’re in some movie about American pilgrims and those who seem to think they can treat the country like it’s their own personal sauna. Allow me to emphasize that it is not a dress code if you’re not wearing anything and any sane person would discriminate against that sort of idiocy!

 

#2: we don’t climb trees to access internet.

I will admit that there is a lot of stupidity on the internet but it seems strangers on the other side of the world never get tired of asking things like: “are there computers that side?” or the classic “do you have internet in Africa?” during chat sessions. Questions like that make me realize what people are thinking when some the snapshots that result in meme faces are taken – and I bet Jackie Chan would agree with me. I still do not get how I am supposed to respond to that so I came up with a story, the gist of which is: I send letters through the post office and somewhere in the middle of the ocean, they’re transformed into emails and that’s how am able to chat with the freak on the other side of the line.

We don’t climb hills and mountains with desktops strapped to our backs to access social networks – really, who’d we be contacting anyway, the few miserable individuals who do the exact same thing in the whole country? And I uploaded this in the comfort of my room, where I am currently downloading the most recent episodes of a couple of TV series on my torrents. And, I am proud to point out, that I didn’t have to send my child to the mine to work as I hunted for and sold elephant tusks so I can get money to access these speeds either.

 

#1: we are not all uneducated.

There are a couple of facts people need to get straight; yes, there are a number of families starving and uneducated children in many countries on this large continent but that does not mean we are all illiterate. The education levels are rising up all over the continent and a number of people have come together and are gradually succeeding in providing information to the ignorant masses.

Plenty of people speak English fluently with a large vocabulary at their disposal and a good fraction of these are fluent in French and German. A few more in Spanish and mandarin! On top of all that, we are also very adept in speaking a couple more languages native to our individual countries. Am not exactly certain why people make fun of many African children not being able to speak English fluently while their kids – for whom English is the first and only language – can barely grasp the basic grammar (‘your’ and ‘you’re’ argument anyone?)

"Is that a probe in your pocket or am I happy to see you?"

Understand that quite a number of people have studied up to college level and gone on to graduate with Masters or Doctorates and do not live in huts, even if yes, some people do live in them. There are quite a number of cutting edge architectural buildings in Africa and from what we see, our living space is actually better. We are not cramped in some crappy apartment in the middle of the city but rather enjoying our living space, and at cheaper prices I might add. In fact, this might be disappointing, but most of those grass thatched buildings you see your distant family members posing in were built just to amuse them. Yes, we do that; exploit tourists. It’s what they exist for isn’t it?

You Got Who To Judge Project Fame?

Looked for a more flowery title for this one and I couldn’t find one.

So, Project Fame paraded a team of female judges for this season’s auditions… At the back of their minds, I think they wanted to go for diversity, only it didn’t work out that way. Women see things in people more often than microscopes do in water. Now, put down those pitchforks and hear me out…

The cannabis legend.

Getting three women (the situation gets worse as the number increases, so we will keep it at three) to sit on one table and share a joint is as hard as getting 10 puppies to pose for a picture. Yeah, because there is nothing harder than that, not even diamonds, or King Kong’s ass. And that’s just the “Cannabis Legend”. Now someone somewhere thought it would be a great idea to get three ladies to judge other women on a TV show. That’s just downright insane. Either you are going to have them ganging up against contestants or tearing themselves apart because of contestants. And we all know that show already exists, it’s called Wrestling.

‘Been in the project too long, forgot to speak’

Those are the words of Martin Luther King. Jr. That was around the time he went to some auditions and all he heard from the judges were jeers, waves, eye bats, whispers and bursts of laughter. Martin was devastated, not because he was not allowed into the project, but because he couldn’t interprete ‘project’… and it seemed like that’s all the judges knew. He didn’t understand whether or not the judges loved his rendition of Akon’s Ghetto.

And who comes up with things even

It makes you wonder what thought process goes in to these things. Does some guy sit there and  just say “Hey, bro how about we get 3 girls to be judges for this years show?’ Then some other evil mastermind gives him a high five and replies. “great idea, Jim” !

What gives? That’s so evil, man! Only Gaddafi  could get a bunch of ladies organised and now he’s dead, which kinda suggests that someone somewhere did not like how he was running things.…

Look at those hands!

Look at those hands!

Speaking of which, where are those chicks at nowadays? I could hook them up with some kyeyo…

How To Become A Kiprotich

By The Last Airbender Kuzooka Conrad

Good morning class?

*Class stands up!* Good morning Mr. Kanabi!

Now, dear childrens, I want to teach you how to be a Kiprotich.

It has come to our notice that since Uganda celebrated 50 years, we have been able to capture 2 gold medals from the bush war we fought outside countries. This bush war has nothing to do with guns or the Eno Ara Emu but practicing chasing chicken for the visitor who came to your place in the village. Apparently that’s also the origin of Enkoku Nkulu!

Now, if you master how to chase chickens, the government sponsors you and puts you on an aeroplane to go and run alongside other people who have also learned how to chase chickens. Here’s a ten steps runs guide to teach you how to become a Kiprotich.

You don’t need fake gold grills after this!

You don’t need fake gold grills after this!

1. Lie about your age. We all know Kiprotich is not 23, we are not sure if he’s younger than 35 but he claims he’s 23. If you can master lying about you age, then surely you can run 42kms any day, any time. This doesn’t apply to women.

2. Work for Luzira Prisonor any other prison in the country. Do you know of anyone who has escaped from Luzira prison? Do you? No! I don’t think so! Why? Because of Kiprotich. In Luzira prison, if you want to escape, you ask for permission, and they will give it to you on condition you don’t get caught by Kiprotich.

3. Eat ka-little little. Have you heard of the saying carry your own weight? We measured Kiprotich and he’s 35 kilos but again, like he lied about his age, we can’t confirm on this. But if you know how to carry your own weight, then you surely can become a Kiprotich. This again doesn’t apply to Straka and her buddies.

4. Escape from the Kony rebels. Ask Inzikuru, she’ll tell you more on this.

5. Make sure that the UPE school you go to is 42kms away and if you don’t attend it, you get free kiboks everyday. That will teach you how to run!

6. Make sure you are from the cheetah/leopard clan (Ngo) and am not referring to the fumblers from some school with beaten down buildings.

7. Walk to Work. Now, if you used to go for these campaigns and police chased you around with pink water, then you’d have a gold medal or be like Kiprotich. So, for the next one, go and train for that gold medal.

8. Follow closely the above steps I have given you! They are very important.

9. Make sure that when they are giving birth, your wife, girlfriend, side dish, emesse is wearing canvas shoes. This is a secret. I just got it from wikileaks!

10. Go back to the village and look for the night dancer, and ask them to give you their secrets. If you can run faster than or even longer than they can chase you, then you have qualified to become a Kiprotich.

11. The last one is very crucial because this is the key to becoming a Kiprotich. Ensure there’s a toilet at the finishing line. Eat before the race, drink before the race and hold all that in. Now get on your marks, get set, and you will have a gold medal at the end of the race.

Need we say more?

like

The Complete Idiot’s Guide To Facebook “Likes”

Ronald Mayanja has just returned from a rigorous seminar on Facebook stuff and thought (against our better judgement) that he’d share…

“Hello there, I am new on Facebook.”

That seems like an okay status update for a starter… it has a greeting, so it’s polite. It also says you are a newbie, well, not everybody knew that, so it’s elaborate and most importantly it is grammatically correct (we will see why that’s important in a bit). It ticks all the boxes.

But what that statement really says is, “Hello, I am a virgin and I heard of this site, so I thought I’d hook up with some girls… Yes, yes, I am a jerk, but no biggie.” And you see its stuff like that that gets people blocked (in case you’ve been living under some rock, this just means the blocker will not be bothered by the same kind of posts from you anymore. It is also known as Facebook hell). Should you get any likes with such a status update, dude, go out there and buy a lottery ticket, clearly you are in bed with luck.

Be mysterious.

There's a fine line between being a paedophile and....

There’s a fine line between being a paedophile and….

“Be famous, but most importantly be mysterious. It is the stuff that people don’t know about you that makes you more interesting… this has worked for Baz. He stays away from Facebook for a while and then suddenly he says something and all the girls are pregnant for him. See, it is called Facebook but the dude has no picture on his profile… only pictures of dolls and weird looking stuff from hell. Gladly, it builds mystery hence, likes!”— Socrates

Start a page

Start a page and give it the most ridiculous name you can find. If you are not that creative, just listen in to the neighbors’ lugambo and use the entire conversation as a page name. In other words just copy and paste whatever neighbor A told neighbor B’s kid who had gone to watch TV at her house without taking a shower first.

For example… Emma Experience Your Own Shower Hour before showing up here for the BBA Shower Hour Nawe. Be in Class.

Once you are through with the name you can go on to post all kinds of stuff, from misplaced quotes to things that have nothing to do with Emma or his TV squatting tendencies sans personal hygiene.

Be warned though, these will be cartoon Likes, but it’s not a bad start for a person that is not posting pics of Mila’s Kunis.

Hi, you may know me by my other name- Meg Griffin

Hi, you may know me by my other name- Meg Griffin

God speed.

Bunyoro Vs BuBritish: Game On!

By The Ungoddamnstoppable Ronald Mayanja

It is unamazing how historical events unfold… When the British were taking artifacts from Bunyoro kingdom in the 1800’s, it is more than likely that the King might have just let them take them because well, back then they were not artifacts, but just a bunch of expired furniture.

Just for your remembrance, artifacts are pieces of useless stuff saved to look at in the future.

Specimen A: Vintage City Mayor, Erias Lukwago

Specimen A: Vintage City Mayor, Erias Lukwago

The Smithsonian, for example found a 2000-year old Egyptian dog carcass and put it in the museum as an artifact. But as you can already see, that was some worthless piece of dog at the time of its death.

It is said that the University of Oxford is holding some 279 cups, plates and such household stuff taken from Kabalega’s palace during the colonial times. Right now, Bunyoro says they want their stuff back, but Oxford says they have been holding the utensils for centuries and are overwhelmed by the size of shit the kingdom gives after all this time.

Are they going to give it back? Depends. Will goats ever be given the freedom to democratically elect their own leader? Those artifacts will stay where they are. Why?

The pecking order problem

This is one of the most despised, yet most accepted rules of nature. Important people like Peter Griffin are going to find people less worthy than them to kiss their ass, because they clearly can’t do it by themselves. And nature will find a way to provide a person or two for just that.

Ass Kissing

So, a long time ago in Bunyoro, the king and his chiefs were pecked by the commoners that had little or no money, and you see, that was alright…because they’d take their best chicks, and feast on their best ducks and not a word was said. Then the whites showed up. The sobs had to be pecked by the kings, because that is the order, and boy did they get pecked.

Game of thrones

Among the things that the British government confiscated from Kabalega’s palace was his beloved eight-legged throne. Yes, eight-legged throne. And I wish I was shitting you.

It is said that Kabalega’s choice of chair is one that transcends centuries and should be taken seriously. Legend has it that the chair not only worked as the King’s throne but also as a venue for the beating of the royal rats.

We got if from the net

Oxford University claims they bought the chair/bed on ebay. And as their policy of paying cash for all forms of weird looking shit from the 1800’s, they went on to buy it.

“At first we thought it was just a bloody wooden stool that was a cool buy. But we later discovered it was indeed a throne from those of Africa,” a source from Oxford said.

“We ain’t returning it though.”

How Broke MPs can Survive the Brokeness of MPs

By The Dishonourable Tom Rwahwire

 

Hon Kanyeihika John of Rukaffela West constituency

Hon Kanyeihika John of Rukaffela West constituency

Members of Parliament, it turns out, are like rappers signed to American hip hop record labels. They act like they are balling but in reality they are broke.

The news came out last week. The legislators are so deep in debt that some of them end up taking home as little as 30,000 of the millions of shillings they are awarded monthly as salary.

Freaking losers.

 

663_001

 

Then to make matters worse, they have asked that the government step in to rescue them by I don’t know, paying their debts for them, or arresting the loan sharks or giving them bigger salaries. I don’t know. I zone out when I hear MPs saying dumb shit.

But there are many people who earn peanuts and still go to work, so what is the zib? Oh, they don’t want us to know they are broke. They want to keep apperances. Swagga. Fly like a G6. Those stunts.

Okay. We can help. Listen and learn.

  1. Drink slowly. One bottle of beer can last all night. Unless they are free, then drink enough for the next three weeks.
  2. Johnny Walker is just a bottle. It really doesn’t matter what is inside most times. So, you know, it can be safi.
  3. Pass the bodaboda helment rule that makes it mandatory for passengers to also wear element. That way we won’t know it is you on the back of the bike.
  4. You want to live in a Kololo mansion, go ahead and live in a Kololo Mansion. Just cut costs by living in the garage and let someone else rent the main house. I’ve done it before. Living in a garage doesn’t suck that bad.
  5. Become a socialite. They can live on free food at functions
  6. You don’t want to look cheap, so you want to buy nice suits. Okay. But save money by not getting underwear or socks.
  7. Learn from campusers and share clothes. Borrow each other’s gear and mix and match so they don’t see you recycling.
  8. Revive walk to work. Just don’t make a big deal about it on the news cos, then we will have to teargas you.
  9. Get a part time job. There are many ways to earn extra money without getting in the way of your parliamentary duties, eg. freelance writer, consultant, phone sex…
  10. When you go upcountry  to visit the constituents, you want them to see you arrive in style. But you don’t want to spend money on fuel. So park the Land Cruiser in the bush just outside the village and go the rest of the way to Kampala by taxi.

An ATM Withdrawal. Or An Attempt At One

By Tom “Hollywood Heffe” Rwahwire

ATM

  • Hello. I’d like to make a withdrawal.
  • Of what you man. Lol.
  •  Of money. What else.
  • Which money. Now see this one.
  • Dude, just spit out the money. ATM doesn’t stand for Attitude Trashtalk Machine.
  • Okay, um… let me check your balance… um… you have exactly… click, click, whirrrrr, click, Uganda Shillings BLEAK on your account.
  • You must be kidding me. It’s only the tenth of the month!
  • And yet, here we are. Broke as Ziggy Dee.
  • Where did all the money go?
  • I don’t know. You are the one who took it.
  •  I swear. Now what am I going to do. Shit. I can’t be broke this early in the month.
  • ATM doesn’t stand for Advice To Man machine, so don’t ask me what you are going to do. You humans spend December as if you are all Zaris and then you come and disturb us in January when you have taken out all the money. I’m empty and I’m tired of humans coming in here and asking me where their money is. You are all broke this month.
  • I swear. Why don’t ATMs give overdrafts?
  • I don’t know. Go in the bank and ask the hot tellers.
  • I can’t. I don’t want them to know I am broke. I have been hitting on them.
  • All of them?
  • That’s the kind of guy I am. Playa’s gon play. You know wharramsayin?
  • You are the kind of guy who ends up broke by the tenth of January. You need to stop overchasing birds. Now what happens when you catch one? Imagine if you needed money to buy pampers or to pay school fees. What would your broke ass do?
  • Maybe I should get a sugar mummy.
  • Too late. The cut-off age is 26. You are 32.
  • So now what do I do?
  • Find the one where it stands for Advice To Me and ask it. Me if you want to know how much I care, look at your balance. That’s the figure. In fact, I was sleeping and you disturbed me.

Moral of the story: Get a sugar mummy before it is too late.

 

How To Survive This Fuel Shortage

By Tom “Tommyknocker” Rwahwire

 

 

The key is to stop feeling like a sheikh yet you are just a petty boirgeoise nigga in a lower income nation where a quarter of you live in abject poverty. You have to adjust your spending patterns, man.
Now walking around to work won’t help. It just increases the sausage. And the fuel shortage does not affect police vans.

First do some arithmetic.

A litre is going at four five.
A beer is four k at those posh places you like. First chill such joints. A safi and a satchet will get you sorted for the night at a mere one k. This will enable you to still afford transi to work the next day, even though you will have a mean ghetto hangover and your breath will be so acrid no one will argue with you when you try to explain. They will just agree to whatever you say so you can shut the fuck up.

Ditch the bu campus chicks. Those babes who show up for dates with five buddies, each of whom expects a lift home to Najjanankumbi, Seeta and Kyebando. First of all she has no plans of unleashing. Secondly fuel is four five a litre and you are going where? Najjanawhat? At freaking four five a litre?
Style up and date a corporate chick, one of those who feel insulted when you try to pay for everything.  If she is a lawyer or a marketing excec she might even be the one housing you. Marketing people have dime. If your ego complains tell it to google “post-modern feminism and the age of emancipation” and shut up.
You can take your teeth back to hostels when Opec has lowered prices back to 3500.

Do you really need DSTV? Kyle is on an all-expenses vacation. He doesn’t care that you are using your fuel money to pay to watch him force an accent while scratching his balls for the camera. Instead of renewing your subscription this month, just tell your neighbour on the left that the neighbour on the right is screwing his housegirl CNN. Then put your sofa on the veranda. There. Drama of upville vs downville right there in the compound live in 3D full stereo.

Airtime puhleese. You spent too much money on an android smartphone to go and scratch cards. Just inbox instead of calling. Facebook zero is not there in Dubai. It is only here where fuel is at four five that we get free facebook.

If you follow all these tips you will find that you have at least 150k to spare in your budget. You can then put that in your car. You have just recieved brilliant financial advice from me. You’re welcome.

The Origin Of The Rolex

By Ninja Gerald Ainomugisha a.k.a Six Wheeler

One wise man once said, “Spain is not Uganda. Because in Uganda, Rolex is not a watch” I find loads of truth in this sentence… well, apart from the wise man bit. I must tell you I have been baffled by the infinitesimal awesomeness of this national phenomenon we call Rolex, right from the second we locked lips. It was love at first taste!

Being the bright inquisitive young man I am, I was intrigued to delve into its history, I wanted to know what made the Rolex tick… (Haha! Pun so intended! Place your palm on your monitor screen for a virtual hi5!) So, I now present to you my Advanced Hypotheses On The Origin Of The Rolex.

 

Caught in the act of rolexation.

Hypothesis #1:

The Big Bang. Yes, I know what you are thinking. The Big Bang caused the formation of the universe not simanyi a Rolex. Well, clearly you have been wasting your DSTV watching NatGeo and Discovery instead of Agataliiko Nfuufu but look here, there’s a catch! According to my quantum calculations, when the Big Bang occurred, such an abnormally great amount of energy was instantaneously released that the universe was formed.

Once again, I know what you are thinking. We knew that, dwanzie! But here is the long hidden secret; it is the Rolex which caused the Big Bang. Technically, I know this is not an explanation of the Rolex’s origin but hey, at least you’ll have something to say when caught in a geeky argument.

Hypothesis #2:

There once lived a hard working chapatti maker who worked hard. He worked so hard they called him Mr Hardworking Chapatti Maker.  One day, Mr Hardworking Chapatti Maker was hard at work as usual spinning away at his hot turn tables, when a storm started gathering. And he spun away, and it gathered, and he spun away even harder. While everyone ran for cover, Mr Hardworking Chapatti Maker just made more dough. And I don’t mean that dough you hear in Rick Ross’ songs, as in he literally made more dough.

Then out of the darkening sky came a lightning bolt that went straight for Mr Hardworking Chapatti Maker… Lights out. When he regained consiousness, all that was left of his stand was a hot steaming Rolex. Seeing this as a sign, Mr Chapatti Maker was so thankful for his life had been spared that he immediately repented his old chapatti-making ways and immediately became Mr Hardworking Rolex Maker, and he made rolex happily ever after.

Hypothesis #3:

On the Sabbath, God the Almighty decided to rest after a stressful week that included creating all and sundry, from Szamboki to Golola, from perfections like Six Wheeler to the likes of Bad Black… He probably overslept that morning, woke up to a heavenly brunch complete with katogo of offals, inspected His legions of angels, played FIFA 12 on his PS3, took a siesta and then topped it all off with a cool fruit cocktail from the Garden of Eden.

Then He woke up the next morning, fully rested and rejuvenated, generally feeling ayree and, with His Beats By Dre strapped on booming the latest hit single of The Heavenly Choir Of Angels, God started working on His last creation… the Holy Rolex.

 

A holy man continuing God's work.