₦airaland Forum

nairalanda1:


Someone has spoken the cold hard truth.

Etiher we sell fuel above the landing cost, or we will continue to feed the smugglers free money and free cash.

And before you come and start shouting 'Why can't government stop the smugglers...ask the Saudis, Venezuelans, Angolans, Iranians and especially Libya why they can't stop smuggling too? Are they run by Nigerian leaders?

I mean, I buy fuel at below N700 and then cross the border and sell that thing at N1400 or more. TELL ME, won't you be able to come home , bribe the customs men and women, and police, and civil defence, AND STILL MAKE A FAKKING PROFIT.


Yet at the end, most Nigerians say we should keep fuel below the landing cost because ;poverty. Yet these people won't do the same for their businesses because.....poverty.

If you want to end smuggling, etc, etc....STOP KEEPING SUBSIDY, AND FACE THE EFFING REALITY.

And if you think this makes me an APC supporter, you are either mad, or sick in the head.

nairalanda1:


Someone has spoken the cold hard truth.

Etiher we sell fuel above the landing cost, or we will continue to feed the smugglers free money and free cash.

And before you come and start shouting 'Why can't government stop the smugglers...ask the Saudis, Venezuelans, Angolans, Iranians and especially Libya why they can't stop smuggling too? Are they run by Nigerian leaders?

I mean, I buy fuel at below N700 and then cross the border and sell that thing at N1400 or more. TELL ME, won't you be able to come home , bribe the customs men and women, and police, and civil defence, AND STILL MAKE A FAKKING PROFIT.


Yet at the end, most Nigerians say we should keep fuel below the landing cost because ;poverty. Yet these people won't do the same for their businesses because.....poverty.

If you want to end smuggling, etc, etc....STOP KEEPING SUBSIDY, AND FACE THE EFFING REALITY.

And if you think this makes me an APC supporter, you are either mad, or sick in the head.

yemmit90:
What about deploying advance technology to combat oil thief and smuggling? What about punishing corrupt custom officials to serve a lesson to others? What about hiring a machineries services to monitor our borders?

That was the same excuses before they remove the subsidy, but look at the country today. To even think that this useless government removed fuel subsidy with absolutely no impact on economy says alot about the policy.

Keep supporting the useless government, the monster you keep petting today may swallow you tomorrow.

lordm:
Just remove total subsidy

cucumbar:
yeye boy… they have fed you with what makes your penis rise.
Ask Saudi , ask this one…. Na for only bad things you know how to make comparison.

Anywhere you hear subsidy or fuel price you run out of your hole and begin to talk rubbish that you can’t defend.

cucumbar:
Don’t mind that idiot .

Anytime he hears subsidy or fuel increase, he gets an errection.

ollypass:
Was this not the crap reason we had before they took off subsidy ..has it stopped smuggling so what's the assurance that even when the prices is increased to landing cost smuggling will stop.

Just fix our refineries and stop being incompetent and currupt

nairalanda1:
I'm so happy to bring out the sexy in you.

yemmit90:
What about deploying advance technology to combat oil thief and smuggling? What about punishing corrupt custom officials to serve a lesson to others? What about hiring a machineries services to monitor our borders?

That was the same excuses before they remove the subsidy, but look at the country today. To even think that this useless government removed fuel subsidy with absolutely no impact on economy says alot about the policy.

Keep supporting the useless government, the monster you keep petting today may swallow you tomorrow.

Shikena:
We have a big problem.

After series of successful struggling operations, the same suffering Nigerian masses will be arguing violently, online and at street corners, about who is richer in their communities between the coded smuggler/businessman, customs officer with big hotels in his name, police odogwus with huge pot belly, and civil defence bosses.

Above all, government is meant to find good solutions and not the easy way out. Why not at least make a serious attempt at curbing the smuggling problem? The smugglers and their criminal business partners on government-side live within our communities, Nigerians must take the battle to them. Otherwise, we are just cowards using Abuja as justification for our complicity. All those destroying Nigeria live within our respective communities where we hail them as our odogwus.

sylve11:
I agree.

But the increment won't deter the smugglers either.

cucumbar:
you bring out the sexy in your generation, not me o.

Thunder go soon fire your yamayama head for supporting evil .

OkCornel:
Combat smuggling by handing heavy prison sentences to smugglers as a deterrent!

Jeez! What sort of dingbats do we have in the government?!

cucumbar:
“The man who emerges with fame, from the school of stern art,
Whose mind gropes for lofty ideals, to bring them to light,
Must first, under rigid frugality, study his part;
Nor yearn for the courts of proud princes who frown in their might:
Nor scheme with the riff-raf, a client in order to dine,
Nor can he with evil companions his wit drown in wine
Nor sit, as a hireling, applauding an actor’s grimace.
But, whether the fortress of arms-bearing Tritonis smile
Upon him, or land which the Spartan colonials grace,
Or home of the sirens, with poetry let him beguile
The years of young manhood, and at the Maeonian spring
His fortunate soul drink its fill: Then, when later, the lore
Of Socrates’ school he has mastered, the reins let him fling,
And brandish the weapons that mighty Demosthenes bore.
Then, steeped in the culture and music of Greece, let his taste
Be ripened and mellowed by all the great writers of Rome.
At first, let him haunt not the courts; let his pages be graced
By ringing and rhythmic effusions composed in his home
Next, banquets and wars be his theme, sung in soul-stirring chant,
In eloquent words such as undaunted Cicero chose.
Come! Gird up thy soul! Inspiration will then force a vent
And rush in a flood from a heart that is loved by the muse.

cucumbar:
Margaret’s cheeks burnt. She could not finish her breakfast. She was on fire with shame. Helen had told her that the youth was leaving England, but other things had seemed more important, and she had forgotten. All her absurd anxieties fell to the ground, and in their place arose the certainty that she had been rude to Mrs. Wilcox. Rudeness affected Margaret like a bitter taste in the mouth. It poisoned life. At times it is necessary, but woe to those who employ it without due need. She flung on a hat and shawl, just like a poor woman, and plunged into the fog, which still continued. Her lips were compressed, the letter remained in her hand, and in this state she crossed the street, entered the marble vestibule of the flats, eluded the concierges, and ran up the stairs till she reached the second-floor.

She sent in her name, and to her surprise was shown straight into Mrs. Wilcox’s bedroom.

“Oh, Mrs. Wilcox, I have made the baddest blunder. I am more, more ashamed and sorry than I can say.”

Mrs. Wilcox bowed gravely. She was offended, and did not pretend to the contrary. She was sitting up in bed, writing letters on an invalid table that spanned her knees. A breakfast tray was on another table beside her. The light of the fire, the light from the window, and the light of a candle-lamp, which threw a quivering halo round her hands, combined to create a strange atmosphere of dissolution.

“I knew he was going to India in November, but I forgot.”

“He sailed on the 17th for Nigeria, in Africa.”

“I knew—I know. I have been too absurd all through. I am very much ashamed.”

Mrs. Wilcox did not answer.

“I am more sorry than I can say, and I hope that you will forgive me.”

“It doesn’t matter, Miss Schlegel. It is good of you to have come round so promptly.”

“It does matter,” cried Margaret. “I have been rude to you; and my sister is not even at home, so there was not even that excuse.

“Indeed?”

“She has just gone to Germany.”

“She gone as well,” murmured the other. “Yes, certainly, it is quite safe—safe, absolutely, now.”

“You’ve been worrying too!” exclaimed Margaret, getting more and more excited, and taking a chair without invitation. “How perfectly extraordinary! I can see that you have. You felt as I do; Helen mustn’t meet him again.”

“I did think it best.”

“Now why?”

“That’s a most difficult question,” said Mrs. Wilcox, smiling, and a little losing her expression of annoyance. “I think you put it best in your letter—it was an instinct, which may be wrong.”

“It wasn’t that your son still—”

“Oh no; he often—my Paul is very young, you see.”

“Then what was it?”

She repeated: “An instinct which may be wrong.”

“In other words, they belong to types that can fall in love, but couldn’t live together. That’s dreadfully probable. I’m afraid that in nine cases out of ten Nature pulls one way and human nature another.”

“These are indeed ‘other words,’” said Mrs. Wilcox.” I had nothing so coherent in my head. I was merely alarmed when I knew that my boy cared for your sister.”

“Ah, I have always been wanting to ask you. How did you know? Helen was so surprised when our aunt drove up, and you stepped forward and arranged things. Did Paul tell you?”

“There is nothing to be gained by discussing that,” said Mrs. Wilcox after a moment’s pause.

“Mrs. Wilcox, were you very angry with us last June? I wrote you a letter and you didn’t answer it.”

“I was certainly against taking Mrs. Matheson’s flat. I knew it was opposite your house.”

“But it’s all right now?”

“I think so.”

“You only think? You aren’t sure? I do love these little muddles tidied up?”

“Oh yes, I’m sure,” said Mrs. Wilcox, moving with uneasiness beneath the clothes. “I always sound uncertain over things. It is my way of speaking.”

“That’s all right, and I’m sure too.”

Here the maid came in to remove the breakfast-tray. They were interrupted, and when they resumed conversation it was on more normal lines.

“I must say good-bye now—you will be getting up.”

“No—please stop a little longer—I am taking a day in bed. Now and then I do.”

“I thought of you as one of the early risers.”

“At Howards End—yes; there is nothing to get up for in London.”

“Nothing to get up for?” cried the scandalized Margaret. “When there are all the autumn exhibitions, and Ysaye playing in the afternoon! Not to mention people.”

“The truth is, I am a little tired. First came the wedding, and then Paul went off, and, instead of resting yesterday, I paid a round of calls.”

“A wedding?”

“Yes; Charles, my elder son, is married.”

“Indeed!”

“We took the flat chiefly on that account, and also that Paul could get his African outfit. The flat belongs to a cousin of my husband’s, and she most kindly offered it to us. So before the day came we were able to make the acquaintance of Dolly’s people, which we had not yet done.”

Margaret asked who Dolly’s people were.

“Fussell. The father is in the Indian army—retired; the brother is in the army. The mother is dead.”

So perhaps these were the “chinless sunburnt men” whom Helen had espied one afternoon through the window. Margaret felt mildly interested in the fortunes of the Wilcox family. She had acquired the habit on Helen’s account, and it still clung to her. She asked for more information about Miss Dolly Fussell that was, and was given it in even, unemotional tones. Mrs. Wilcox’s voice, though sweet and compelling, had little range of expression. It suggested that pictures, concerts, and people are all of small and equal value. Only once had it quickened—when speaking of Howards End.

“Charles and Albert Fussell have known one another some time. They belong to the same club, and are both devoted to golf. Dolly plays golf too, though I believe not so well, and they first met in a mixed foursome. We all like her, and are very much pleased. They were married on the 11th, a few days before Paul sailed. Charles was very anxious to have his brother as best man, so he made a great point of having it on the 11th. The Fussells would have preferred it after Christmas, but they were very nice about it. There is Dolly’s photograph—in that double frame.”

“Are you quite certain that I’m not interrupting, Mrs. Wilcox?”

“Yes, quite.”

“Then I will stay. I’m enjoying this.”

Dolly’s photograph was now examined. It was signed “For dear Mims,” which Mrs. Wilcox interpreted as “the name she and Charles had settled that she should call me.” Dolly looked silly, and had one of those triangular faces that so often prove attractive to a robust man. She was very pretty. From her Margaret passed to Charles, whose features prevailed opposite. She speculated on the forces that had drawn the two together till God parted them. She found time to hope that they would be happy.

“They have gone to Naples for their honeymoon.”

“Lucky people!”

“I can hardly imagine Charles in Italy.”

“Doesn’t he care for travelling?”

“He likes travel, but he does see through foreigners so. What he enjoys most is a motor tour in England, and I think that would have carried the day if the weather had not been so abominable. His father gave him a car of his own for a wedding present, which for the present is being stored at Howards End.”

“I suppose you have a garage there?”

“Yes. My husband built a little one only last month, to the west of the house, not far from the wych-elm, in what used to be the paddock for the pony.”

The last words had an indescribable ring about them.

“Where’s the pony gone?” asked Margaret after a pause.

“The pony? Oh, dead, ever so long ago.” “The wych-elm I remember. Helen spoke of it as a very splendid tree.”

“It is the finest wych-elm in Hertfordshire. Did your sister tell you about the teeth?”

“No.”

“Oh, it might interest you. There are pigs’ teeth stuck into the trunk, about four feet from the ground. The country people put them in long ago, and they think that if they chew a piece of the bark, it will cure the toothache. The teeth are almost grown over now, and no one comes to the tree.”

“I should. I love folklore and all festering superstitions.”

“Do you think that the tree really did cure toothache, if one believed in it?”

“Of course it did. It would cure anything—once.”.

lordm:
Just remove total subsidy