Another Brutal Murder

John Nii Kacsu Abbey was stabbed at a bus stop in Croydon as he travelled with his three-year-old daughter to see his new-born son last Thursday.
It’s been reported that the 26-year-old who lives in South London was travelling to see his wife who had given birth earlier the same day.

Eye-witnesses say that John Nii Kacsu Abbey was having a heated argument with the boys who attacked him and one of them may have been known to him. They made a decision which was to settle the argument with a knife.

The Ghanaian born man and his young daughter were just a few hundred yards away from Mayday Hospital when the attack happened.

What a tragedy! Yet another brutal stabbing – in broad daylight as if no one’s in fear of being caught and can’t even be bothered to commit crimes under the cover of darkness. With a heart cold enough to kill a man in front of his little girl.

Police survey the bus stop in Croydon near South London, where John Nii Kacsu Abbey was stabbed to death in front of his three year old daughter who stood there in shock as her father was brutally stabbed in the heart.

He sadly died shortly after the stabbing in Mayday Hospital, the same hospital where his wife had given birth to the son John will never see.

A new dance craze is sweeping the streets of London

K.I.G., a group of young London MC's have taken a popular nursery rhymne to another level.

The tune's called Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes... watch the dancing!!

Its good… I love it!

Let me see you wine down low… Bubbly! Bubbly! Head, Shoulders, Knees & Toes!

Too sick to work?

Oh hell no... not me... not today... I need to get paid!! I've got a thumping headache, bloodshot red eyes, a streaming nose, a sore throat, I keep on bringing up what I can only describe as "baby-sick"; sorry to be graphic but it's not quite carrot and corn vomit, so I call it baby-sick and I've got the shivers

Unfortunately, I have a night shift ahead of me this evening. Eight hours worth of slaving away over a hot computer for ungrateful financiers who have nothing better to do on a Friday night except work. I want to shout at them GET A LIFE, FIND A WIFE, GO FOR A DRINK, DO SOMETHING OTHER THAN WORK. But of course, if they didn't work then neither would I and if I didn't work, I wouldn't get paid and if I didn't get paid, I wouldn't be able to pay my bills, buy food and keep up my bad habits.

So as much as I'd like to stay home in bed with a hot water bottle and a blob of Vicks rubbed into my chest, I have to work.

God, I wish life was a fairy tale sometimes, because right now, I'd really appreciate a magic lamp. I'd rub it and ask The Genie to put millions of pounds in my bank account, tax free! That'd put a stop all this working malarkey!

The Nigerian Financial International Courier Company

I'm rich... I won $10m in a competition that I have no recollection entering. By a stroke of luck or genius, my unique details have earned me the lifestyle of the rich and famous.

Now what do I have to do to get my millions?

Well this is what The Nigerian Financial International Courier Company would like me to do:

TO: MISS AUGUST MAYFIELD

You have won $10m in our International Lottery Competition!

To claim your winnings, please forward your details to the following:

NAME: MR MICHAEL RICHESON (dispatch officer)
EMAIL: internationalcourierstnt@yahoo.com

You are advised to send the courier company a mail to their email
address for their courier cost.When contacting them,you are to
include your order number as your subject.

ORDER NUMBER:TNT-M56278531

Note: you are to furnished the courier company with the following
details so that they can honour your letter.

These are the the details I forwarded to the courier company.

1.Full Names: Mrs Crazie Dam-Foole
2.Contact Address: 69 "The Mad House" Foolishness Way, Con-Me-on-Sea, Sussex BS1 1EE
3.Sex: Yes please!
4.Age: 30
5.Marital Status: Bigamist
6.Occupation: Assassin
7.Email Address: r-u-havinalarf@googlemail.com
8.Telephone Number: 999 ext. 911
9. Ref Number: I'M-RICH
10.Batch Number: What?
11.Country: Timbuktu
12.Order Number: 1122334455-11+99=34/1700>666
13.Name & address of Bank/Building Society: Royal Bank of Woolworths
14.Bank Account No: 987654321
15.Name which appears on Bank Card: C. Dam-Fool
16.Pin No (we keep this confidential): 7777
16.Sort Code: 00-01-00

We advice all winners to keep this information confidential from
the public until your claim is processed and your prize delivered
to you. This is part of our security protocol to avoid double
claiming and unwarranted taking advantage of this programme by
non-participant or unofficial personnel.
Once again congratulations...
Warm regards,

Ade Peters
Claims Agent,
Sweepstakes International Program.

Wouldn't it be awful if I've really won $10m!

If I saw this photo on a bill-board, I bet you £10 I'd crash my car!!

England rugby union winger Paul Sackey glides through the air in an advertising campaign.

Paul looks like a work of art. He should be chiselled in marble and placed on a monument so that the world can see how beautiful he is, just like Michelangelo's David.

It's You & Me against the world baby...

...an intimate moment between Barack and Michelle.



Well not so intimate on second thoughts! The whole world has got its eye on them.

An August Moment

Dear Lord, make my words sweet

...because one day, I might have to eat them.

What were you doing when the world changed?

Barack Hussein Obama II becomes the 44th President of the United States of America.

THE WORLD HAS CHANGED AND WE MUST CHANGE WITH IT.

I heard on a TV programme this morning one or two commentators saying "oh what a shame he fluffed his words when he was being sworn in". I think Barack's amazing, but he's not a robot - Jeeze! He's a real live human being. He must have been nervous, excited and over-whelmed, especially knowing that gazillions of people were watching him. I would have been more surprised if he didn't fluff a word or two. This lets people know from the get-go that he too is fallible.

On a lighter note: I saw the clip below of Michelle Obama's appearance on Ellen. Anyone who's familiar with Ellen DeGeneres' chat show knows that most of her guests dance their way to the sofa. Michelle showed Ms DeGeneres a move or three.



"How Good Looking is my Wife?" asks Obama!


Let's Dance honey!!


Reverend Joseph E. Lowery's Delivery of the Benediction


Often, as a black British woman who was made by Jamaican parents, I feel like an alien both at home and abroad. I'm British, but sometimes wonder where I belong. My parents are Jamaican, but when I'm in Jamaica I'm not called by my name, I'm called "English". Sometimes, when travelling in Europe and I'm asked where I come from and I say England, I'm not believed. I'm not even talking about people who live in remote hill-sides; I'm questioned by people who make me wonder "don't you watch TV"? So when I witness a large part of the world coming together and agreeing that a change was well overdue and voters were not afraid nor filled with pre-conceived ideas about what skin colour meant and elected a black president to govern over the United States of America, I finally think it's about time for me to stop trying to squeeze myself into a neat little box. I'm a woman of the world just like Barack Obama is a man of the world.

Happy Martin Luther King Jr. Day

For people who are not familiar with "bank holidays" in the US, it's Martin Luther King day today.

My contribution to this day is a photograph of Mr & Mrs Obama which pulled at my heart-strings initially, but the photograph is also quite poignant right now. It's poignant because I believe the vision that Martin Luther King had is coming to fruition and that must be good news!

Michelle & Barack Obama on their Wedding Day



Don't you think Martin Luther King's heart would smile if he saw this picture of the Obama's on their wedding day...? and his heart would over-flow with pride if he bore witness to them entering the White House.

HAPPY MARTIN LUTHER KING JR. DAY to everyone!

Who says women can't park?

We can park & think outside the box too... so there!

Why don't you call me anymore? We used to be so close.

I heard a woman say this to the person she was talking to on the phone at work this morning. I then heard her saying but that's no excuse... I'm busy too but I make time for my friends... well if you were having problems, why didn't you come to me... well take my house and office number just in case you can't get hold of me on the mobile... you can ring me anytime, my phone's never off... I could come with you if you like, I'm free every evening and all weekend... It's not my fault I miss you... I didn't mean to sound needy, sorry... OK then, don't be a stranger. Bye, bye.

I think it would have been far kinder if the person on the other end of the phone said to Chrissie "I DON'T ENJOY TALKING TO YOU ANYMORE - THAT'S WHY I STOPPED CALLING AND FURTHER MORE, PLEASE REFRAIN FROM CALLING ME." But that kind of answer is harsh enough to leave a person feeling wronged and bitter isn't it; so most people prefer to go around the houses making excuses when the truth is the truth is the truth.

Jigga-Boo, Coon, Wog, Paki, Nigger, Kike, Frog, Spear-chucker

All pretty offensive racial slurs if you ask me. So why then are some people, just a small amount of mostly British media people with voices saying that some of these words are no more harmful than calling someone from Australia an Aussie!

Prince Charles apparently chooses to call his Asian friend Sootie. Sootie says this is an affectionate term and he doesn’t mind at all and Prince Charles is being harmless. Who am I to tell Sootie that the term in fact doesn’t sound like a term of endearment to me. From where I’m standing, it sounds like Prince Charles is taking the living p***. Just like when his dad said to a British student in China that if he stays there much longer, he’ll go home with slitty eyes! What an ugly ignorant thing to say. Ask me if I’ve lost my sense of humour and the answer is maybe because referring to a race or nation in a way that describes their appearance or skin colour in a way that makes their appearance seem “abnormal” is acting like an ignoramus.

I don’t like darkie, rag head or frog either. They’re offensive, they do mean harm and being called a Spear Chucker is not a term of endearment.

One journalist says the following:

Let's be honest, Prince Harry is no racist

Now, suddenly, Harry is a wicked racist - make that a thick, ginger-haired Royal racist - who must 'learn a painful lesson' and go on TV to make a public apology for his crime. Have we all gone barking mad?

It would seem so, judging by the buckets of vitriol poured over Harry for using the words 'Paki' and 'raghead' in a video made in 2006. While filming fellow cadets, Harry zoomed in on Captain Ahmed Raza Khan saying: 'Ah, our little Paki friend... Ahmed.'

Out of context, his words may shock. But in context, Harry was simply indulging in equal-opportunities Army banter - that's equally offensive to everyone, be they Taff, Paddy, Jock or simply some poor sod saddled with a fat girlfriend.

Many people make the mistake of trying to normalise racial slurs. I once over-heard a mixed-race woman say to her friend I love black men, I just don't like the darkies. Which I presume means she doesn't like the darker complexion variety of black men.

I have to scratch my head in wonderment at such comments. If people want to go around “normalising” the work Paki, Frog or Darkie, (…oh but he didn’t say it out of context) may they live in their small minded ignorance in bliss.

It's not about the size of the dog in the fight...

...it's about the size of the fight in the dog!

A modern-day David & Goliath



Just remember; confidence and nerve acccount for everything. A bullying and braggadocious bark means nothing!

If I'm dreaming, don't wake me... or I'll kill you!

Last night, I had a dream about the deliciously gorgeous model Aaron Pope who models Sean John underwear.

What happened in the dream is a very private matter which will remain between me and my nocturnal wonderland.

I was horrified when I woke up; the timing was all wrong - I wasn't ready for the dream to end.

I left the house this morning in a right temper. I'd sell my soul to the devil to make that dream come true. Well maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but I'd sell something! Maybe my Wii-Fit or even my leather three-piece suite.

Who you calling Grand-Daddy?

My friend David's going to be a granddad. He's only 41 and he's vex, vex, VEX to the highest point of vextivity!! His daughter's just turned 16 and has left her father's heart broken with the news of her pregnancy, but eggs & sperm couldn't give a sh*t about age. When Mr Sperm's ready to meet Mrs Egg, nothing in the world can stop it from happening - nothing. Not financial circumstances, living conditions, personal drama, age, race, religion, timing - NOTHING whatsoever. So it's grand-daddy time from where I'm standing!

Me and David then got on to the subject of our first kiss and how old we were and what it felt like at the time. David was 12 and his kissing partner was 15. He said she was cold, clinical and kept flicking out her tongue like a reptile. He's convinced she learned her technique from porn movies.

My first kiss wasn't much better than David's. The boy concerned nearly took my head off. I swear he was trying to swallow my head whole. It was the most gruesome attack of the lips I've ever had. He even drew blood. Obviously he didn't know what the hell he was doing and all I knew was the experience was traumatic. In fact, that first kiss did more for me than any lecture my dad ever gave me about boys. I stayed well away from anyone offering me their lips for years.

The first time I experienced a "real" passionate kiss, I was totally bewildered. Instead of pain & shame, I got butterflies in the pit of my stomach... not what I was expecting at all. Just thinking about it gives me butterflies all over again. I thought this is wonderful, but when's he gonna attack me with his teeth?

Don’t you ever dare dis my bumper!

Some woman who's got a TV programme called You Are What You Eat wants to ban big bums! Her name is Gillian McKeith and as far as I'm concerned, her observation is narrow minded and one dimensional and it goes to show how miserable people who so happen to have a voice in the media want to make everyday people feel miserable about themselves.

Juicy bum-bum does not mean clinically obese. It means happy, healthy, sexy woman.

She's got a big fight on her hands because a lot of my family and friends are bootilicious and happy to be that way. Most, not all, but most black women have shapely bottoms. Big, round juicy bumpers. That's just how we are... that's how we're made and that's how we're going to stay - I actually think it's sexy and liberating to be curvaceous and what's wrong with that?

Please God, don't let me get swept up in this warped Western idea of beauty which is as light as a feather and as flat as an ironing board.

Obviously, I'm in the business of freedom of speech so she can say what she likes, but within my rights of freedom of speech, McKeith is talking out of her skinny rarse-hole.

Let me tell you something else: the day I wake up and I have a flat bottom or no bottom at all, I'm gonna top myself. So up yours McKeith Lady, maybe you're the one who is what you eat and by the looks of things, you eat twigs, prunes and bum fluff.

My round Caribbean bottom's staying right here.

Lady, you're too close - STEP BACK!!

I was standing in the queue at the supermarket today, minding my own business when I felt the hot breath of someone behind me. Even in a night-club, hot breath on back of neck isn't necessarily welcome unless I've had two Piña Colada's, a Long Island Ice Tea and three Margarita's.

I moved up a little bit so that the heavy breather wasn't invading my personal space but heavy breather saw this as a cue to move up too. The breathing was now replaced by body contact. I thought to myself can the person not feel that they're touching me which is wholly inappropriate. You don't form a queue and then press your body against the person in front of you; this is a forming a queue no-no. In fact, it's the opposite of queue etiquette. So I spun around and came face to face with a woman who didn't look me in the eye when I looked at her! She was looking off somewhere in the distance as if she was totally oblivious to the fact that she was trying to cop a feel. OK, so she wasn't groping me, but she was breathing on me and touching me and if this were the office and she was a man, she'd be up for sexual harassment!

I looked at this crumpled face woman with Brillo Pad hair and dishevelled clothes and mean pink lines for lips. She wasn't even the type of woman who made me feel bi-curious. So even if I wanted to find out what it was like to be a lesbian for a day, she was no advertisement so she was wasting her time with all this touching and feeling business.

I gave her my loudest huff and my most animated shake-off and shuffled up in the queue a little bit more and stuck out my elbow just in case she didn't get the hint.

I can't believe I was violated by a crumpled old lady who took great pleasure in pretending she was doing nothing at all... wearing that "I'm completely innocent" look on her face. Dirty b*tch!! I know what she was up to, even if she wanted to play Miss Innocent.

Biggie Biggie Biggie, Can't You See?

I'm hopelessly in love with T-Pain right now (as if I've got time for this "I'm your biggest fan" nonsense)!!

It's all my sister Sheba's fault. She's been going on and on and on about T-Pain this and T-Pain that. My first experience of T-Pain was reading about him ages ago and I read about how some people disliked him like a dose of poison but now, suddenly, this man has grown on me and is under my skin too; I'm humming his tunes and playing his songs in the car and having a bath to Chopped 'n Screwed and wearing Apple Bottom jeans and Gettin' Low, Low, Low, Low, Low, Low, Low more often than I ought to be. But now I see a valid distraction on the horizon. It's the coming of the movie Notorious.

I was and am still a fan of The Notorious B.I.G. I was a fan even before I knew I was a fan!

I can't wait to see the film on the life and times of Christopher Wallace, AKA Biggie Smalls! I love a biography and this film looks like the ultimate hip-hop life story of all time. Roll on 16 January when this film comes to a cinema near you (and me).

"We can't change the world unless we change ourselves"

Happy New Year Everybody

I hope you didn't end up like these two...


Paul Weller, ex lead singer from The Jam & Style Council and his young girlfriend; drunk and passed out in the street after a heavy drinking session. Him on his back and her with her knickers on show for all the world to see in Prague like two vagrants!