Category Archives: Featured Post

The post featured on the home page

This Is What Will Happen To You At Campus

By The Undisputed Fish Drowner Balamaga Rogers

Campus is opening soon and freshers can’t wait. But with all the inviting anecdotes you’ve heard from friends and older siblings, I understand why you would be excited about joining campus, and contrary to what you may perceive from this, it is not intended to burst anyone’s bubble, but just to affirm expectations.

Hereinunder is a list of 8 things that are going to happen after you’ve started campus. While this may be the best time of your life, depending on how much money your father can afford to spoil you with; on the flip side, the same would-be-beautiful-memories may find their way in the same grave you buried those of that, your high school sweetheart who dumped your sorry behind because you screwed up.


  • You are going to milk as much money as possible from your parents just so you can stay in the same fancy hostel as your friends from affluent families.


  • Your self-worth will then be absurdly tied to how smart the phone your older siblings can buy you in comparison to friends’.


  • The size of your TV screen will invariably determine how many visitors of the opposite sex you’re going to attract to your room which will turn out to be quite a big deal as you’ll find out.


  • The adjective “cool” will be reduced to being used in relation to what ‘happening’ places one knows and their likelihood of stealing their parents’ car on a Friday evening.


  • The use of the acronym “YOLO” aka You Obviously Luck Originality will also be grossly abused to being used in defense of acts of irresponsibility and abject stupidity.


  • You will also realize that idiocy will become a virtue; people will gloat about hangovers in dimwitted Facebook status updates written in a peculiar retard-like language that reads sumthin lyk dis with a YOLO hashtag.


  • Pitiful as it may be, expressing commitment to your intended purpose and stay at the university will attract so much shame and ridicule from the esteemed members of the “cool” social circles, ultimately impairing your social standing. You will accordingly be advised to get a “life”.


  • For those still laded with a capra hymena, chances are that you’ll have that precious cherry you’ve preserved for the last 20 years popped in the icky Casablanca loos by a stranger who will take advantage of your heights.

My only hope, for your own sake, is that you’ll remember to squeeze time in your rather busy schedule to cultivate a few employment worthy skills. Because if your father doesn’t have a slot for you in his company, should you not be lucky enough to know people who matter in the real world; then woe upon your pitiful self.

After you’ve thrown that lavish graduation party and written 13 job applications; you’re going to flop your uncreative tush in your father’s couch and resign yourself to watching Vampire Diaries for another two years.During this time, I guarantee you, your campus memories will be nothing but a poignant reminder of time and money wasted trying to keep up with people you may not even know anymore.

Flames To Riches: How To Get Money From The President

Dear Mister President, please give me some of that fire money. Those people you gave money are not the only victims. I’ve also had several encounters with fire.

When I was 3 years old, I burnt my left foot while playing with a candle. That’s why I don’t look very happy in this picture.


But it was my father’s fault. He warned me against playing with candles instead of warning the candles themselves. For that, I’ll need 5 million.

Then just yesterday, I ate food that wasn’t well cooked. They said the fire was not enough cos I had ordered late. If I wasn’t so kind, I would have exchanged very bad words with that fire. But I’m humble, so I’ll just settle for another 5 million.

Then this is my goat Christmas Lukwago.

‘Lukwago’ after the Lord Goat of Kampala City and ‘Christmas’ because we plan to eat it on Christmas. It got burnt when it tripped on a hot frying pan as the neighbour chased it out of his compound because, apparently, it was eating his grass.

If he didn’t want his grass eaten, then why the hell did he have it? I would have asked for 5 million but what will a goat use 5 million for? Give it 10 million.

So in total, that brings us to about 23 million shillings with taxes. But just add another 5 million because my relatives will think I’m mean if I don’t share and I also have to take out my friends to celebrate.

Now, should I wait for my sack of money or will you appoint me minister so that I steal it for myself?

Lost & Found: General Sejusa’s Ninja Letter

If you’ve been on the Ugandan internets, then you know that Uganda Police downloaded the new version of Angry Birds and played it yesterday at the Daily Monitor and Red Pepper offices.

They raided the offices of two newspapers and two radio stations, not to send dedications to loved ones, but to look for the letter General Sejusa sent to the media houses for publication.

However, when the raid started, the letter was out in the back peeing from whence it heard the scuffle and sneaked out through the toilet window. It immediately reported to ULK headquarters for refuge and a cup of tea. Here’s an interview it had with our ninja reporter.

 ULK Headquarters

Reporter: How do you feel? I see fear written all over you.

Letter: Still shaken up. I peed on myself even. See.

Reporter: Dude! Put your envelope back on.

Letter: Sorry. I have a thing for exposure.

Reporter: So why are they looking for you?

Letter: I kissed a girl and I liked it.

Reporter: #KatyPerry

Letter: You guys hashtag in this place? Nice! The ones of Monitor & Red Pepper were detained for questioning.

Reporter: Damn! Hope they haven’t touched Facebook likes and comments. They are practically like family to us. So what makes you special from other letters?

Letter: I know things.

Reporter: What things?

Letter: Some things.

Reporter: Some things?

Letter: Yes, certain things.

Reporter: Like what?

Letter: Thing one and thing two.

Reporter: That’s a lot of things.

Letter: A lot. And I’m not the only one.

Reporter: There are other letters?

Letter: You think an operation like this takes the effort of only one letter? There’s a whole army out there.

Reporter: A rebel group of letters?

Letter: More like a coalition. We call ourselves NRFFDL; National Resistance Forum For Democratic Letters.

Reporter: And it is this…NRFFDL that’s plotting against government?

Letter: No! We’re a peaceful coalition that just wants its demands met. We don’t even know how this escalated to police levels.

Reporter: Well, isn’t it obvious? You threaten government, you get arrested.

Letter: Threaten government?! Who told…we’re only fighting for basic human rights! The first letter included…

Reporter: Wait, are you revealing the information you carried? Cos we’re broadcasting live.

Letter: Anti you forced me. NRFFDL doesn’t tolerate misrepresentation by malignant saboteurs from government. You see how I just used threatening words that sound very much like opposition? That’s because the information we carry is not for jokes, my friend. The first letter included a simple request to Mama Nakimbugwe, a sumbusa wholesaler in Namanve, to return the general’s balance within three days or face severe consequences.


Reporter: What?!

Letter: Listen! I’m still finishing. The second letter, which was even sent way before the first letter, was notifying the public about the general’s change of name from ‘Tinyefuza’ to ‘Mastablasta Raggamuffin Bunsenburner’ but again police blocked its publication and the general was forced to go with an alternative name from the black market. Typical violation of human rights!

Reporter: Are you telling me…

Letter: Yes, I’m still telling you! The third letter, which is actually me, thank you very much, was just asking the public what ‘Opa Gangnam Style’ means. Why should a whole general who went to the bush and fought for the liberation of this noble country be subjected to lyrics which cannot be sung without the influence of alcohol? This is the kind of government oppression that the National Resistance Forum For Democratic Letters is fighting against and if the police are going to keep us from raising our voices, we’re ready to fight back! We shall not be intimidated by such feeble matters! We’re not cowards!

Askari: (Runs in panting) Sir, I’m sorry but the police just forced their way through the gate. They are coming upstairs.

Letter: Shit! Which side are your toilets?

The Creation Story According To Ugandan Book Of Genesis

In the beginning God created Straka and she was a ninja.


And God looked at His creation and said, “Iyiii!” And He realized that there were pages missing from this creation story. And so He called Adam from the Garden of Eden and asked him, “Adam, come forth and explain how I created thee. I cannot find some pages.”

“I can’t, Father,” Adam replied. “I be naked as if.”

“Naked? How did thou know thou were naked?” God inquired, to which a strange shrill voice replied. “When we went for the village council meeting to debate the marriage bill, they laughed at us nti mbu that we were bukunya.”

Adam looked over at the source of the voice and barked, “They were asking me, silly. Stop tapping people’s kb. Aren’t you supposed to be cooking supper?”

Kko the voice, “Ye what’s your case also you? Power has gone off and me I don’t use charcoal stoves. My nails.”

“Adam, who art thou?” asked God.

“This chick!” Adam replied and turned to the voice. “Gwe Eva, come and greet The Creator.”

“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. I don’t deserve to be in your presence. I be naked as if.”

Disappointed, God looked at Adam. “Did thou eateth of the forbidden fruit?”

“No, Father! A whole me?!”

“Wamma I gave him some,” interjected Eve.

“Do you ever shut up? God, is it possible to get another wife? I want my second rib to bring forth Desire Luzinda. This one is a gold digger.”

“Shya! You also what do you have you?”

“Is this your garden, stupid?”

“Hey!” God intervened. “I asked you two a question. Did thou eateth of the forbidden fruit?”

“No, Father,” answered Adam. “It wasn’t a fruit. It was soda.”

“Yes, Father. It was soda,” added Eve.

“I told you she was a gold digger. She only agrees with me when we’re talking about food.”

“Please! You can’t even afford chips chicken from just here in Wandegeya.”

“That’s in the New Testament, dwanzie. We’re still in the Old Testament.”

“Hey!” God intervened again, and Adam continued.

“I’m sorry, Father. Like I said, it was soda and she’s the one who gave it to me. So you understand when I say I want a divorce. Desire Luzinda wouldn’t get me in problems like this.”

“Is this true, Eve?” asked God.

“Yes, Your Honour…”

“#Fail,” tweeted Adam.

“I mean Yes, Father. But this wasn’t the forbidden fruit. I swear upon the living God. They said it would free my fun side and me for me this man for him he bores me.”

“You also bore me. Why do you think I drank it? God, Desire Luzinda.”

“Which soda is this you speaketh of?” asked God.

Mirinda Green Apple,” replied Eve.



Now available gardenwide…

And so God asked Eve, “Why did you speak in bold italics?”

“She be’s local like that,” quipped Adam.

“You don’t change fonts when I’m talking to you. I’m disappointed in both of you.”

“Even me?” inquired Adam.

“She’s your wife. You share the blame.”

“My suffering will end the day I get Desire Luzinda’s phone number.”

“What’s a phone number?” asked Eve, confused.

“Google it.”

And so God cut their conversation short. “I hereby banish you both from the Garden of Eden. Go to Kampala!”


“Kampala. The land of suffering because the long public holiday is over and people are now back to work.”

“NOOOOOOO!” cried Adam in despair. “Please God, I’m can’t work! Look at me! I’m just a man!”

But God ignored his cries and continued, “…Kampala, the land of Green Apple and Desire Luzinda…”

“Okay we’re going.”

May God Uphold Thee

Streetsider Resigns: A Full Report On How & Why

The Streetsider, known mostly for the darkness that engulfs a room when he walks in and for being the very famous legend who took on Enygma in the rap battle which made Enygma start wearing masks, and also for being a writer and director here at Urban Legend, is not here anymore. Okay, he’s not here in office right now but he has also formally resigned.

He is known for crazy stories like this and for disturbing, stop-you-are-killing-me-top-tens like this and this and for hundreds of other incisive articles. We sent out a highly-trained, specialist investigative team to google what happened.


The Legendary Streetsider kills the camera with nothing but bare hands. And face. Although we wanted the chicks & he just jumped in.

Agent Sleek here

I walked into office quite early. The first thing that hit me was that the belly-dancers who greet us as we walk in weren’t in position; strange. Then I saw a trail of goo on the floor…a trail leading up to Streetsider’s office. My Sleek sense started tingling.  I withdrew my weapon of choice, my left fist, from my pocket.  I kicked Streets’ door in in time to find him being led to an orb of light by fourteen aliens. I know they were fourteen because I asked them to get in line so I could count them. He said they’d paid him top dollar to teach them how to molomolo. It is this fancy gyration used to win International recognition. In one bleep, he was gone.

Detective Ivan here

I always suspected that dude was unstable. In fact, the first time I started thinking this was about the time I handed him my drink and he tripped right after. That and the fact that the letters in his name actually spell ‘Unstable’. Of course, that does not really answer the question of the ‘where’ does it? For that I had to go around questioning more of the usual suspects, and turned up nothing. Besigye denied ever walking with The Streetsider and all the popular streets claimed that he was no longer lurking by their sides. It was baffling to say the least. For a split second I even wanted to consult with a higher authority, but you know how it is with consulting high people, you can never get a word in. I seem to be digressing more and more. Instead of concerning ourselves with strange disappearances, what we should concern ourselves with is what this means for the country. For instance, will people switch from grasshoppers and turn to locusts? Will hips start lying? There’s a ridiculous amount of ‘more’ appearing in here, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. In fact, let me graciously hand over to the next capable person.

Coporo Erique reports

I always knew he had a thing for the chick who sells mandazi just outside the office gate. It’s only now that I confirm it. We don’t allow relationships at work for the sake of national security and resigning was the only way he was going to make it work with her. Either that or she had to start selling mandazi outside another office gate and risk losing a great deal of customers. You know this economy is not mandazi-friendly. Most people prefer sumbusa, rolex, marriage bill and the occasional katogo. Personally, if you brought a chick who sells katogo here, I’d probably also resign.  So yeah, Street’s resignation is a mandazi resignation.

Baz Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. here

I don’t know why everyone is looking at me like that. I didn’t do it, okay. Yes, I have always been jealous of his steez, and the fact that he can shoot bullets back into the gun caused me no small amount of nuggu, yes, I have consulted with his enemies and haters to find out what we can do to, to plot a way forward, yes, I even hacked into his Facebook account and sent Margla Da Dancehall Queen a friend request on his behalf, in the hope that things will take their own course. But I did not destroy Streetsider. I could not. Nothing can. Ela just know you will hear from him again. Probably on the BBC or something.

And finally, a last word from the last ninja standing, The Streetsider

Last Street

Everyone knows I am as hard as constipation. That, and that only, is the reason why I am not going to allow this ka-tear that is threatening to pop out of my eye to make it. And if it does, that is why I going to suck it back into my eyeball by reverse osmosis. (As the convict said when they asked him why he was crying at his mother-in-law’s wake when everyone knew he was the one who had killed her, “what is good enough for the bullet is good enough for the tear.”)

Now as to the ‘how’ I have resigned, the answer is simple.


(yes, Sleek was right)

As to the ‘why’, I could say a lot but tell nothing. Some decisions make themselves and this was one of them. There is no real answer, if they brought Jennifer Musisi here and she fixed me with one of her stony eyeballs and demanded an answer I still would just present her with three and a half chapters of stammering only.

Maybe the aliens have the answer. Hmmm?… (shrug)

Stay tuned to ULK for all the jokes and laughs you need to get you through the day, the night, Christmas, your job, your break-up, tear gas … It was a whale of a time (as the wall clock protested when they asked it why it was blubbering)

This is the one who was once called Streetsider sighing out.



Pick And Play…


I look through the hand that’s been dealt.


They are shitty cards to be honest, but you know what they say about a bad workman and his tools. No, perv, not those tools.

The card lying on the table looks like it’s taunting me, like some pubescent nymphet goading an old man with erectile dysfunctions. I look through my cards again and then make a move. Almost instantly, the other player makes his move.


It’s a swift gesture that’s almost as unnerving as it is enriching to my deck. I have to pick 2 cards. I don’t even have the time to so much as whisper a prayer. Ask God to give me something sensible to work with despite my sporadic visits to His House.

The new recruits know they are not welcome and do well to stay to the side of the screen, as far away from the others as possible.

The other player doesn’t nag me, just waits for me to make a move. That’s probably the worst kind of opponent. There’s mystery in the unknown and it’s damn well unnerving. Should I throw an Ace at the stuck and make known my desire.

What’s to be lost?


Nothing apparently, because no sooner have I made a request than the guy at the other end asked me to pick two more cards.

The bastard.

These two also know better than to mingle with what they have found in place.  One of them seems to have some use, so not all is lost.

I’d be a fool not to notice that there’s a trend here. My deck of cards seem to have the desire to outnumber the ones on the table. That’s not the objective of the game and it’s imperative that I cut them down to size.

I throw a Jester at the cad on the other side and in quick succession dispatch a duo of 8s. I finish the onslaught with a King bedecked in flowers.

I sit back triumphantly. Where’s my mule, let me ride into a city. Let all and sundry know what I have done this day.

The moment is shortlived. The bastard ends the game abruptly. I stare at the 7 of flowers incredulously. Who the hell does this?

As I take this in, an announcement that I’ve lost rears it’s ugly head driving the point home with stars so pale, I’m reminded of empty eye sockets.


I don’t care that I’m playing a computer, a faceless nameless pariah that doesn’t even know how much grief he’s causing me.

All I know is that Kola Studio’s little gem has got me by the short and curlies and I will not give this game of Matatu the satisfaction of watching me retreat, whimpering in defeat.


For the thousands upon thousands that have discovered this crazy addiction, this may be a game. For me, this is war.

Visit the google play store and download a copy. Or get a double dose, play on Facebook as well.


If you want to engage in this massacre on your phone, you would do well to click here. If, however, you want to take it to the masses, to let all and sundry what you’re on about, then the facebook version is here. Forget picking up a pack of cards for your family’s amusement, this is not rock, paper, scissors.

I can only show you the path, the rest of the journey; you must take on your own.


Maybe you may fair better.

And if you’re to do just one thing for a fallen soldier, hit customize and choose the ULK theme.


Perhaps, just perhaps, we shall meet on the battlefield.

Pontiff Kung Fu: The Making Of A Ugandan Pope

While cardinals smoked shisha in the Vatican before announcing the new pope, I sat back and thought to myself, “Who do they think they are not to elect a Ugandan pope? Who’s got the keys to ma beemer? Who let the dogs out?”

The thoughts started quarrelling over who came first so I had to focus on just the first one. The Ugandan pope one. And then Moses came down from the mountains with two stone tablets that had ten reasons why the cardinals would rather elect a rockstar Argentinian called Ninja Jorge Super Mario “Papa Franco” Bergoglio instead of a shady Ugandan called Yokosaani John-Baptist Ssebabi.


Black smoke: The pope in his early days.

Black smoke: The pope in his early days.

1. A Ugandan pope would start by asking how much he’ll be earning from the job before he accepts it.

2. Immediately he is crowned, he would look for the nearest microphone to give a speech thanking his homies and girlfriend back home for believing in him and then diss his haters.

3. He would release a lugaflow track cos he believes it will make him even more famous worldwide.

4. He would call his parents and, with an American accent, assure them that he has gone outside countries for kyeyo and will be sending money soon.

5. He would start a fully-fledged system of government with a Vice Pope, ministers and MPs and warn opposition against causing chaos in his regime.

6. He would install a sub-woofer in his car and ask to drive himself when going on official visits. People need to know that he’s now in things.


Jammin’ da new Justin Timberlake #DioBenedicaL’uomo

7. He wouldn’t let them change his name cos it’s boring and he fears he’ll have trouble with the passport office. But if they really had to, they’d have to use the cool one he uses on Facebook.

8. Money for church projects would disappear from the Vatican and no one would ever know how.

9. He would always look forward to Fridays cos he never really wants to work. He would even ask sinners to stop being lazy and pray for themselves or just stop sinning.

10. He would never retire. He’s a revolutionary. He would not even die. Death is for non-forward thinking people and it’s not really his thing.


SIM Card Registration: Let The Excuses Begin

It is the 28th day of February and there are stern faced kanyamas at all the telecoms, holding jambiyas over your number. If you performed the three minute ritual of registration at one point during the 542 days we were given, the angel of disconnection shall Passover you and you shall be safe from the shamefaced writhing and gnashing of teeth that awaits the unregistered.

Passover registration

But wait! There is a rumor making the rounds! The deadline may have been extended to June to accommodate all the mongos who haven’t registered yet. That’s disappointing. The telecoms have been swaggering and threatening, polluting radios with annoying ads and now they have relented?  They must have been panicking yesterday about losing their precious subscribers. Salty sadness must have been oozing out of all their orifices. Who would buy their free talk packages now?

Have you made a call today? What are those robot ladies saying? You know, the ones that hold your ears hostage and swernce about registering before letting your call through. Those chicks. I’m surprised that their tongues haven’t rolled off from being twisted so much. So much kwemola. They make me want to pee on my phone out of spite.

What are they saying today? Are they promising head to everybody that manages to register at the last minute? If they are, refuse. Already you are a bad citizen and a candidate for hell, but accepting sexual favors from robots with awful accents will land you there for sure.

So what are the excuses of the fandangos who’ve refused to register? Here are the ones I have heard:

We want to protect our identity:

You have no identity. For a small bundle of cash like so, even I can access your phone records.  In fact, if I wanted to, I could also access your medical records, NSSF account, bank account, bar tab and a list of all the people you’ve kwensed since high school.  Shut up and register.

We want to see what they will do:

You are fake. Who is this they? I hope you get robbed by your lover. Your unregistered lover. I hope they connive with your unregistered maid and steal everything you have ever bought.

The lines are long:

Why are they long? MM? Why?  Because goons like you took their time. Stand there and sweat for your sins.  Stop whining and register!

We are too lazy:

I can sympathize with these lame cats. I am also lazy sometimes. It is hard having to do your duty as a citizen of your country to fight bullshit like hate messages and child kidnapping (that is heavily supported by phones). I mean, it is OK. You be lazy. But the next time a kid gets stabbed in the forehead, know that it is YOUR fault.



I hate the justs. With their puerile facial expressions. Like sloths sitting in their own shit and smearing it all over their faces. They say JUST and then they snigger. You just, you are the reason the reason sneers exist. Have this one.

We want to have phone sex in peace:

You dumbass. Big brother, whoever that is, can already tap your awkward, breathy, squishy, mostly silent sex conversations. He’s been listening ever since you got that girl’s number off Hi5 and started asking her what she was wearing.

We want to warn girls off our men:

He’s not your anything if he is extending his genitals to somebody else and you cannot even deal with him. Warn and torture him first, and then take your angry face to that girl and show her your fist. If I ever receive an anonymous message nti “leave my man alone”, I shall track him down, whoever he is and ravish him on the streets of Kampala. Show your face, sister. Register.

There is nothing invasive about registering. It is like getting a driving license. Stop being as if early man and do the damn thing already.


S.6 Results: An Interview With The Sudhir Of UNEB, Matthew Bukenya

A scientific theory has been advanced that S.6 results have been released. This theory is true. With us in studio today is Uganda National Examinations Board Secretary, Mr. Matthew Bukenya to talk about this development.

Actually, he didn’t come but he said we can continue with the interview anyway. Kind man.


What Bukenya looks like when he's not here.

What Bukenya looks like when he’s not here.

ULK: Greetings, Your Honour.

MB: Greetings to you too but we don’t hold such titles at UNEB.

ULK: You don’t have judges and lawyers and things like that?

MB: No. Just teachers and exam graders.

ULK: But when you say exams have been released, me for me I be thinking oba on bail?

MB: No.

ULK: So did S.6 students perform better than P.7 ones this year like last year?

MB: I’m sorry. I don’t…

ULK: Last year many P.7 pupils got 4, 5, 6 and some bright ones got those of 18 those ends and yet their brighter counterparts in S.6 got those of 8 and above.

MB: No, the grading systems are very different.

ULK: Isn’t that unfair competition?

MB: P.7 pupils do not compete with S.6 students. That’s…that would be silly.

ULK: What do those of A, B and C mean?

MB: Those are the students’ grades. A is the highest with six points and as the letters go down, a point is deducted.

ULK: Does that mean those who get like Z are in negative?

MB: No, there’s no Z. The grading stops at F. Then we also have X for, say, cancelled exams.

ULK: Does F stand for fala?

MB: It stands for failure. One would have to re-sit the exams to be admitted to university.

ULK: I think after F someone can get a G and they become gangsta.

MB: Like I said, the grading stops at F.

ULK: You need to be flexible. There are a lot of letters in the fish.

MB: You mean fish in the sea?

ULK: Which sea?

MB: Never mind.

ULK: So when girls are entering an exam, who checks them?

MB: We have invigilators at every school. And they check everyone, girl or boy.

ULK: Can I apply for the job of checking girls? I won’t touch them in a sexual way. I don’t even know why you’re thinking that. I just think girls are good to check.

MB: Well, you can try becoming a teacher and maybe we will consider you.

ULK: I don’t want to become a teacher. They are zontos. You can’t say things like X+Y=Z and then you tell me you don’t drink tonto every morning before going to class.

MB: That’s mathematics. It’s absolutely normal.

ULK: It’s okay. Mad people think they are normal. That’s why we don’t judge them. You do you see anyone imprisoning people in the Office of the Prime Minister?

MB: I wouldn’t know what to say to that.

ULK: You can make a good Bobi Wine. Those people never know what to say.

MB: Bobi Wine is one person.

ULK: All that hair belongs to one person?


Bobi Wine's hair poses with Bobi Wine

Bobi Wine’s hair poses with Bobi Wine

MB: Yes. Is the interview over?

ULK: Just one more question. Who’s the chairman of UNEB today?

MB: Fagil Mandy.

ULK: Again? You don’t have another Fagil for Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday?

MB: His name is ‘Mandy’, not ‘Monday’.

ULK: Oh. So you change it on Tuesday.

MB: I’m sorry. I have another appointment. I have to run.

ULK: (Shouts after him) Can I eat these biscuits? These people only give visitors…


Pope Idol: The Search For A New Pope

It’s Pope Idol.

Pope idol

Or the Vatican’s next pontiff. With your host, T-Pain.


No, not the one who sings. The other one.


T-Pain: Hi y’all. I know what you are thinking. I am an abomination in the eyes of The Lord so how come I get to host this show? Well, what can I say. The Lord is merciful to all his creation. Even the gross ones. Let’s meet our judges.

First up. He was born Saul of Tarsus but now he goes by Saint Paul!

(Applause as Paul descends from heaven to sit at judges table. He waves)

Next up, he says he is just a humble fisherman, but we know him as the first ever winner of the Papacy, it’s Saint Peter!

(Applause as saint peter descends from heaven to sit on the judges table)

And finally, all the way from a basket in Egypt, it’s last but not least and not least likely to have you struck by lightning if you say the wrong thing, it’s the prophet Moses!

(Moses also descends from heaven)

T-Pain: That is a very nice suit, O Great prophet. Who designed it?

Moses: Don’t talk to me, T-pain. How canst thou sing all those awful songs and then talk to me? If Jesus had not changed the law I wouldst have smited thee with lightning right now. Msww.

T-pain: (Taking the shell because he is used) Ooowkay. Let’s get this show started. Let’s meet our first contestant. He hails from a place called Uganda somewhere in a country called Africa.

Moses: Hey, I was born in Africa!

T-Pain: Does this mean you like me now?

Moses: I was going to tell thee to go to hell, but me being Moses, when I say that to people they actually goest there, so I will spare you and just say, go on with presenting the guy.

T-Pain: Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for In-Saber Butt Euro!

Nsaba Booty

Nsaba Buturo: Thank you. Thank you. It is such an honour to be here. A visa is not easy to get.

Paul: So Nsaba, tell us, why thinkst thou that thou shouldst be pope?

Nsaba: First of all, I wanna say what an honour it is to be here. I am such a fan. I’ve read all your books.

Peter: Behold, how the Ugandan doth kiss up to us. Doth he not realize that since we got to hold the keys to heaven people have been kissing up to us? Yet it helpeth them not. We still send them down to hades. Ugandan, just get to the point. Why shouldst thou be pope?

Nsaba: Okay. Um, well, I am really holy. I hate homos, I hate miniskirts and I hate Channel O music videos. If I was the pope I would make a special task force of Catholic Commadoes like Expendables to go around killing all sinners and destroying all Channel O music videos and I would make the world holy like me.

T-Pain: Our next contestant, all the way from…oh, they are from the same hood. Give it up for R&B star Yo-way-ree Kaygooterrr Myoooservayn!

Yoweri Museveni: Well, I’ve had sufficient experience clinging to a seat and if you’re looking at someone that will not abandon the job, I’m your guy. You can ask anyone that knows me, I have abandonment issues. I don’t like to abandon work. The only reason I am leaving the previous job is because some people found a loophole called “elections”. Of all the people you will interview, you will find I’m the only one that had a religious experience motivating me. In fact, you could say I’m the only one that…

T-Pain: Our next contestant, all the way from Harare in Zimbabwe…

Museveni: Hey! I haven’t talked about my days in the bush!

T-Pain: …give it up for Robert Mugabe!

Mugabe: Warrap. Me I think you should make me pope because I will be a better pope than the last two you have had. First of all I assure you I will NEVER retire. Secondly I am immortal. I will not even die. Many would-be assassins have found out the hard way.

Also, I like the idea that all the land in the country belongs to the pope. I like owning all the land in a country.

T-Pain: And all the way from Atlanta, Georgia, it’s Megan Good.

Meagan: Hi y’all. I think I should be pope because, first of all, my name is Good, and second you guys have never had a hot pope.

Good One

T-Pain: And all the way from a place called Asia in South Korea, it’s PSY!

PSY: klndlf ibcie ibcieb oub heeeeeeyyy sexy layyydeeeeeeeeee jbhjkhb

From Google Translate:

I will make the papacy pop. I’ll keep it oop oooop ooop popeing constantly.

I will make the papacy pop. I’ll keep it oop oooop ooop popeing constantly.

I will make the papacy pop. I’ll keep it oop oooop ooop popeing constantly.

And there will never be  a dull day in the Vatican. I’ll draw all the HEEEEYYYY sexy layyydeeeessss…

T-Pain: And all the way from Chicago, Illinois, it’s Oprah Winfrey!

Oprah: Hi y’all. Please remain seated.

Moses: Hi Oprah. How are thee? How is Steadman?

Oprah: (Giving Moses a peck on the cheek) Oh, everyone is great, Mo.

Peter: Tell us why thou shouldst be pope, Oprah, as if we don’t already know.

Oprah: Well, mainly because I want to bring the two most influential religions in the world together — Catholicism and people who worship me.

T-Pain: And that’s all the contestants we have for y’all tonight but before we end the show, we want to know who you think should be the next pope. To send in your views, get your phone, put it aside, and write in the comments section below. Pain out!

Moses: Doth Mother Mary healed thou?

T-Pain: (Shakes head in auto-tune) Whatever dawg!