That thing they call irritable bowel syndrome or IBS for short can be quite a bitch! If you didn’t know, ask somebody… better still, let me explain. IBS has been listed as one of the illnesses plaguing Nigeria’s President Buhari. If we’re to call it as it is, IBS is a disease. An extremely malignant virus with a bad attitude, it is no respecter of persons.
Perhaps, the president got it from drowning the embarrassment the embarrassment of his previous demolitions at the polls by consuming too much ‘bazan-kwaila’, nobody knows; bit as it stands, the geriatric elder statesman can’t seem to keep his shit together… literally. IBS doesn’t let its victims enjoy the privilege of deciding when they want to take a shit. Just like VesicoVaginal Fistula or VVF which is another variant of impulsive excrement inducing illnesses suffered mostly by Northern (Hausa/Fulani) girls, people with IBS don’t have a say regarding when they go, they just go.
Some might think that this is God’s way of punishing the old man for allowing a child-marriage bill to pass in his first few weeks as president; though they’d be wrong, I’d totally explore that line of thought. After all, VVF has been directly linked to the devastation inflicted on the fragile, immature and tiny vaginas of Northern girls the jagged, rugged and man-handled hookah-shaped schlongs of their male counterparts. In other words, “BIG PREEKs DAMAGE SMALL TOTOs”! Got it? Moning on.
So who’s to say God doesn’t have a sense of humour? If Mr. President thinks it’s appropriate to unleash a bill so malevolent to little girls’ honey-pots on said innocent little girls within his first few weeks in office, then I would argue that it stands to reason, that a deity with a sense of humour would mete out in equal measures, an equally debilitating infliction on this our homie in Aso rock. At least, he’s lucky I haven’t suggested he took a few jagged schlongs up his rear as a juvenile, but let’s not be in a hurry to rule out any perfectly valid possibilities just yet, shall we?
Now the whole country is awash with gist about how the old boy hasn’t attended to his duties at the Federal Executive Council or FEC meetings for three consecutive sessions, yet somehow manages to show up every Friday’s Juma’at prayer. Well if you think of it, those prayers barely hold for more than five minutes. I’m not saying the uncontrollable shitting takes a break on Friday afternoons obviously, but if he only needs to be in the public view for ten minutes a week give or take, it stands to reason that he could make a dash for the prayer ground directly from the toilet, take advantage of the few minutes respite we’ve all enjoyed from stints with diarrhea, then sprint back to the safety of his private quarters in za ozza room.
FEC meetings are an entirely different ball game though, because those things can go on for hours and members of the opposition or even political ‘mole-rats’ have been known to raise such a storm of discordance at these meetings that could give a perfectly healthy presiding president a bumper doze of flash diarrhea.
All in all, I only bring this matter up because the president recently notified the National Assembly and I guess by proxy, we the masses, of his intention to ‘work from home’ henceforth. While I don’t really believe that is a phrase that can be associated with any president’s purview, it has not skipped my keen attention that several Nigerians have taken to various media platforms to express their displeasure with what is being described as a reckless and incomprehensibly inept attitude to governance. Such work ethics they claim should be left to house wives/husbands who indulge in online multi-level marketing schemes to meet their families’ needs, and not be embraced as a tool with which to lead a nation of over 300Million incredibly uncooperative citizens.
Such terms as “Proxy President”, “Executive freelancer” and “Part-time Oga” have begun to surface on Nigeria’s nook of social media with reckless abandon, and I wish to make it clear that for the first time since he won the erection… sorry; election, I chose to #STANDWITHMYPRESIDENT. I’d rather have a “Part-time Freelancing President by Proxy”, than a Presidential shitter… or worse still, a president who wears diapers.
I say: “keep your nappies”! My tax monies will not be used to procure adult diapers for a full grown president. Let the geriatric rule via Skype or WhatsApp, right through a second tenure if he must, but I definitely wouldn’t support having a “Nappy President”.
Hopefully, he will resume his medical internship in the UK anytime soon, and all we can hope for is for his preferred foreign doctors over there to find a way to help him get his shit together before returning him back to us. What If they can’t? Well, they can keep trying; unless of course they would like us to identify them as quack doctors like the folks in that nursery rhyme, Humpty Dumpty. You know, the one that goes:
Humpity Dumpity sat on a wall,
Then Humpity Dumpity took a huge DUMP!
And all the king’s horses, and all the king’s men
Said “OH my God Humpty, what a horrible stench”!