“Tolani! Tolani! Where are my husband?”

The corners of my lips twitched but for the sake of my job, I did not allow that twitch to develop into a smile because if it did, it would soon develop into full blown laughter. Then that one would develop into such a show of mirth that it would in turn would develop into a sack letter. I looked slightly to the left of my boss ‘wife’s round face to avoid looking into her serious face that bore no recognition of the minor explosion that had just occurred, courtesy her.

Look, I am no grammar nazi. People rarely are. But there is something about certain incorrect sentences that make me just want to pack my bags and move to another country so I wouldn’t die from extreme laughter. Unfortunately, it seems like all my life, I have been plagued with people who considered English a very immortal language that could mutilated, dragged on the floor, turned on its head and done so many unspeakable things to that the originators of the language must be turning in their graves somewhere in Europe. I have heard people who claim to be graduates speak such bad English, I’m convinced they were taught English in Yoruba.

Back in secondary school, we had this house mistress whose spoken English was always a source of amusement to us students because each time she spoke, our English text books seemed to grow older. And she always ALWAYS bragged about her university degree from Oxford University. Till each time she said it, someone would then whisper “Oxford in Ogbomosho” and a ripple of laughter would begin. Her yell of:

“Ehen? Is it laugh? Ehn? What are vunny?” (her f’s were always for some reason produced as v’s)

would leave each girl with a veritable struggle to keep her teeth from making a grand appearance and earning herself one hell of a thrashing for failing to explain why exactly she just started laughing after the house mistress said something about where she studied. The first time I was treated to her vocal assault rifle was during my first prep session at the school. My classmates were raising merry hell, still quite unfamiliar with the entire concept of an hour of just quiet studying and caught her attention from her office. She charged into the classroom, her face all fury and bellowed:

“Ehen? Why noise? Has prep over?”

Prep had not over, sorry, was not over at that point but once those words left her lips, it was for us. There was first a moment of silence that allowed each girl digest what she had just heard and verify with her brain and ears that she had heard correctly before a full on laughter campaign started to the rage of the already pissed off housemistress who didn’t know what she had said to make these lousy JSS1 students laugh and really couldn’t see the funny side of it at all. We ended up washing all the school toilets that night and doing the dishes at the school kitchen for a week.

Then there was resumption day in my third year at school. I had just turned up at her office with my mother to check in when she looked up from her writing and smiled:

“Ah, Tolani. Have you back?”

I stifled a giggle and tried to respond with as straight a face as I could construct:

“Yes ma. I have back.”

My mother smacked me at the back of my head but I spotted the inexplicably large grin on her face.

The girls once decided to start a book detailing every grammatical error she made and within days, half the exercise book had been used up. It ended up being titled: “The Unenviable Book Of Grammatical Ballistics”, an awesome name when you consider it was thought up by a bunch of JSS3 girls who would cringe to come up with words more complicated than “refrigerate” in an English essay writing test. Unfortunately, she spotted someone giggling while studying said book assiduously during morning assembly and, after deducing the contents with the help of another teacher, thrashed the girl till her back rivalled our exercise books for horizontal lines and burned the book in our presence. Unfortunately for her, she still decided to mark the solemn occasion of the grammatical blunder bible book burning by making a speech:

“You girls have no respect! No respect! You are write book on what I am say and you laugh……no, is not vunny, it is not……you! Come here!”

The laughter died out, but the giggling was eternal.

A further book was started on the girl underground though, this time named “The Complete Unenviable Book of Grammatical Ballistics of International Proportions: Volume 1” Readers were sworn to reading in secrecy. The book required an extra exercise book when the first one ran out.

So it felt more like a cross when I met my boss’ wife for the very first time only to realize that her English invalidated pretty much every rule of spoken (and written) English with nearly every sentence. Each time she came to check on her husband (and she insisted on coming every evening. Word around the block was that she suspected he had a roving eye and she claimed to be “checking on him” only to end up staying till close of work so they would head home together) felt like I was being interviewed for the job all over again but with someone tickling me at the same time. It was a struggle to keep a straight face while answering her questions so sometimes I had to think of the nastiest things to take my mind away from the fact that my body was trying not to explode, like the first time I stepped into a public toilet. Without positive results.

And this evening was no different.

“Good evening, madam. Mr Adeolu left a few minutes…”

“Where are he go?”

He are run away, I voiced in my head but said:

“He did not disclose…..”

“He did not close? Is it closing time yet?”

“No. madam. I mean he did not…”

“So where is he?”

“He left a few minutes ago but he did not tell me where he was going to.” I breathed, careful not to use any words that would set off confusion in her head and grateful that she had concluded the last statement without mishap because I was convinced my body was about undergoing a meltdown. She seemed to consider my answer carefully before asking:

“So when will he back?”

I couldn’t help myself.

“He will back soon.”

Maybe I should start looking for vacancies online.

http://zakuraweekly.com/grammar-nazi/

So the first issue of Zakura Weekly, Naija's craziest mag as edited by yours truly will be making its debut on Sunday. Y'all can subscribe to get it free when it drops. It is in soft format though, so if you'll need a pdf reader on your laptop/mobile phone to read it. To subscribe, just head on down to http://zakuraweekly.com/subscribe-to-zakura-weekly/ . Cheers!

Once again, he has captured my visual imagination. Guy, you are good.
In your case it makes you laugh. In my case it's a struggle in self control before I become condescending

Leopantro: Once again, he has captured my visual imagination. Guy, you are good.
In your case it makes you laugh. In my case it's a struggle in self control before I become condescending

Now don't make a black man blush!

I wont be surprise this trash goes to the frontpage

ITbomb: I wont be surprise this trash goes to the frontpage

Jealous? I noticed none of your" trash" has ever made front page. Take comfort in the fact that you are the fourth to comment and in a few hours time you will make front page, riding on the back of this writeup.

Doesn't that give you a warm feeling inside, like a ruptured spleen?

Abeg... Gimme jotter make I start compiling the list of Grammer NAZIs for NL oooo...

Kageyoshi san, I must say this, you're quite special! I've been a silent follower of your work and other notable NL writers and each time you pen those short stories of yours, it leaves me gasping and wowing!! Keep it up, man. You're good. Wish I could write too. From an awed fan.

Funny story. Great job, as usual. Excellent grammar!!!

10 likes

My belly aches walahi na you cos am......ur write up left me in stitches. Pls I need you to keep dt Job.

Splendid!

Tayeni: My belly aches walahi na you cos am......ur write up left me in stitches. Pls I need you to keep dt Job.

easy nau, some of us no understand wetin you just speak so

this is my second secured space, its gonna be cheaper than my first booked space.

... ' where 'are' Mr kageyoshi? Wen 'are' d next update??

lol tooks me back to secondary school

An0nimus:
easy nau, some of us no understand wetin you just speak so

no mind me jare.......me sef no understand wetin I talk there o. I just dey test d English wey I pick frm one yeye book wey dem write "DICTIonary" put.

Nice one

nice one. please updated this on time :-)

Llllllllooooooollllllll

Another wonderful piece by sebonzakura,i cany just stop laughing,expecting to wake up tomorrow and see this on front page.Because his works area alwaysa ripe for frontpage.

DAAAAAAYYUUUMMM!!!! I don grow 6packs cos of laff..

Me ehn if I hear Gbagaun I no dey hesitate to laff o....no matter who the person be or wherever the place be.......If you no laff dem, dem no go learn....and besides holding of laff dey reduce life span hahahahahahahahahaha..

ITbomb: I wont be surprise this trash goes to the frontpage

Epitome of the exact afflictions of the OP. Chai!

'Terrifically' hilarious!

After reading all these, i had to force myself to laugh¡ Not funny at all¡ Somebody tell Zakura that grammer cannot be Bad, it can only be wrong|

Clemzy16: After reading all these, i had to force myself to laugh¡ Not funny at all¡ Somebody tell Zakura that grammer cannot be Bad, it can only be wrong|

Well, he his airing you

Clemzy16: After reading all these, i had to force myself to laugh¡ Not funny at all¡ Somebody tell Zakura that grammer cannot be Bad, it can only be wrong|

@bolded. I thot I was the only one who noticed. The write up was good but I didn't really find it funny. I think he was tryin too hard to be funny. Mayb dats y it hasn't made fp 'cos all his writeups dis past weeks have made fp

Guy u really got me laffin. Oxford in Ogbomoso. Hahaha

muhehehehehehehehe lwtmb ooo