Duganafi Gaenana Falaeh with Femi Peters Jr. (Chelsea)

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Duganafi Gaenana Falaeh with Femi Peters Jr. (Chelsea)

Thursday, 19 May 2011 12:10

(Jollofnews) - In this edition of Duganafi Gaenana Falaeh, Mr Peters lauds a football legend, talks of a heart racing moment, scared stiff of PC Britain, that wedding, failing to think on his feet, making the pages of Chelsea magazine and...Hahatai.
Adios, Ronaldo!
The world tend to see footballers as role models and the world gets bitterly disappointed when footballers make the front pages rather than the back pages, ronaldo

where they ought to belong. If it’s not Rooney swearing into a camera on a Saturday afternoon, turning the air blue in front rooms around the world, it’s Peter Crouch doing the dirty on his pregnant girlfriend. The sooner the world let it sink in that these guys are not role models but guys who get paid handsomely to do what they love doing, the better. Then again, for every El Hajj Diouf, there’s George Weah, for every Joey Barton, there’s Ryan Giggs. Simply put, there are some good apples out of the lot.
Personally, if there is one footballer who is safe to look up to, it is ex-Brazilian international Ronaldo Luis Nazario De Lima, better known to all and sundry as Ronaldo. The guy who scored 47 goals in 49 games for Barcelona, netted 62 times for Brazil in 97 caps, is the highest scorer at the World Cup finals with 15 goals, called time on a glittering career in March. "It's very hard to leave something that made me so happy. Mentally I wanted to continue but I have to acknowledge that I lost to my body," he said.
There is no denying he had a great career but that is not what won a place in my heart for this buck toothed goal-a-game hit man.
It was what he uttered years ago to his mum’s boss.
When he signed for Cruzeiro, a Brazilian outfit, Ronaldo went to his mum’s place of work, an ice cream parlour and told her boss, ‘my mum is not coming to work today. I’m paying her to sit at home.’
If God can put me in a position where I can tell my mum’s boss those same words, I can trade a year off my life.
Make that two.
Off the meat market!
The old man upstairs was kind enough to add another year to my life last month and I chose to celebrate in style: propose to my partner of four years.
As a Chelsea nut, there is no better place to do so than Stamford Bridge, where I booked us a table at a Marco Pierre White restaurant. After a three course meal of oysters, venison and caramelised apple pie with vanilla, in between me going to the loo twice to get my bearings and pat my pocket the umptieth time to make sure the ring was still there, I made my way back to the restaurant, heart threatening to leap out from behind my rib cage. Last time I was this nervous, I was a teenager pouring out my heart to a girl down the road.
‘Are you okay?’ My partner, seeing my fidget me all evening, asked.
‘Er, yeah, I’m fine,’ I forced a smile and downed some water as my throat was parched.
Then I kicked off, that she’s a good woman who’s been good to me, I’m happy she’s in my life, I know sometimes I can act like I don’t care but I do care and blah blah blah.
will_n_kate

I rambled on and on when she interrupted when she said, ‘you’ve just said that earlier,’ before I realised I was repeating myself.
God, this is not going smoothly, is it?
I needlessly cleared my throat and tried another angle.
‘You know I’m into you, right?’ I said, holding my eyes with hers.
‘I know,’ she replied, a small smile playing on her lips.
‘Well, how much into me are you?’
‘All my friends know I’m into you,’ she replied saying she hasn’t changed all these years I’ve known her.
‘Yeah but you could be a great actress all these years, you know.’ I deadpanned, keeping a straight face. ‘You could be using me to perfect a role for all I know!’
‘You ought to know better,’ she retorted ‘I don’t introduce a man to my family unless I’m serious about him.’
‘Ok, ok,’ I held up a hand. I’ve got her riled but I don’t want to overdo it. ‘I’m sorry; I just want to know we are heading in the same direction here.’
‘Very funny,’ she said it in a tone that told me it’s filed under the ‘we’ll talk about this later’ section.
‘Thanks for the presents but I was wondering if I have a bigger one?’
She looked puzzled and I chose that moment to do it.
I went down on both knees, took out the ring and said, ‘will you marry me and make my birthday complete?’
She said yes, calling time on my bachelor days and hauling me off the meat market.
Having a twisted sense of humour, I’ve always joked I will tie the knot on my 80th birthday. Well, I didn’t envisage some long haired goddess would come calling years, years, later...
I feared a gay protest
We all hate PC Britain but we all are scared to death of PC Britain. You can utter something completely harmless in Political Correct Britain and some oaf can swing those words around and make you eligible for imprisonment in the tower. I almost fell victim the other week but stopped myself in the nick of time.
Let me explain.
We had a slow week at work the other time and a guy worked in. He wanted an appliance fixed; I quote him a price, pointed out to him that he can’t get a cheaper quote elsewhere and blah blah blah. The guy gave it some thought, asked me to put the quote in writing before he said he’ll discuss it with his husband and proceeded to walk out.
Like I said, it was a slow day and here was a would-be customer walking away without a receipt, which didn’t sit well with me.
‘Excuse me?’
He turned.
I was going to tell him he was also a husband and his word was also as good as his husband’s.
I didn’t.
Some cretin in PC Britain might interpret that as a homophobic slur. Instead, I said to him, ‘You won’t get a cheaper quote elsewhere, mate.’
He grinned, said he will get back to me and left...without a receipt and me breathing easy, glad that, for once, I didn’t speak my mind.
Can we move on, please?
I’m not anti-royal but im sick to the back teeth of people still gushing on about the royal wedding of you know who and who. No, I didn’t watch it as I had a novel to read. I wish the newlyweds all the best but can we talk about something else, please? Like Jeffrey Deaver coming to London the 26th for another book signing?
I’m I losing it or what?
I was a poor mathematics student, which is maybe why I take a bit to connect the dots, like them lot across the pond would say.
Two instances the past weeks got me thinking I need to buck up.
I’m on howdy howdy, fist touching level of friendship with a West Indian guy around my way. The other day, we were having a discussion about the lovely weather when he looked at me closely and asked, ‘is that a nose ring?’
‘Yeah,’ I replied. ‘I’ve had it for a while now.’
‘Oh ok,’ he nodded and added, ‘it don’t matter. You still my friend, mon.’
It was after he left that I realized he thought I, er, play for the other team. I saw him the other day and thought about telling him I’m not what he thought I was but that sounded so lame.
I was doing my early morning run in my local pitch when a couple approached me. ‘Excuse me; have you by any chance seen a Rottweiler about?’ the man asked me.
‘No, I just got here’, I replied and continued my laps.
It was when I was walking home, drenched in perspiration that it hit me boom!
I was out in the open with a killer dog unleashed.
If that mutt had met me in the park, that’s surely my family a member less. If the couple had told me of a python sighting, I would have flown home in a manner that would have made Usain Bolt blush.
I just hope that my Dutch laidback approach won’t come to bite in the rear any time soon.
Yeah, that’s me!
If you subscribe to the monthly official Chelsea magazine and come across some long haired guy in the ‘Married To Chelsea’ column of the May edition, that’s yours truly...when my hair was longer. Yeah, I’ve made history being the first Jollofian to be interviewed by Chelsea magazine. Eat your tickers out, non Chelsea fans!
I stand to be corrected.
My trump card of winding up my mates? Asking them when was the last time they know a person who knows them that was in a magazine? Better still, have they made the pages of their respective club magazines?
I have made the pages of the magazine; I pray I get my dream job of editing it someday...
Hahatai...
A work colleague of mine who supports Man United but refuses to buy a club kit. His reason? ‘Im a fan, not an investor!’
Taken from the letters section of The Metro: ‘With all this talk about this wedding, it might not happen, you know. Kate might get cold feet and not turn up.’