I will not trip on misinformation or minor detail. I am starting by declaring my asset. Just so we’re clear, it’s not completely impossible that I have money in some places I can’t remember. I have selective amnesia. It’s a medical condition.


I cannot wait for this election season to be over! I’ve had way more fun watching paint dry than I’ve had following this election. And, I mean watery, adulterated paint that seems to be running from the wall!

This has got to be one of the most boring campaign seasons in Nigerian history. Posters, posters and posters everywhere as if it’s posters the boys will chop! People barking at people on social media! Candidates trying to outslug each other in grammatical matches on television and radio! When you ask for a manifesto to chew at, you’re given a slogan or abused!

Where did the good old days go? Elections used to be fun. I miss men flipping houses like cars just to run their campaigns. I long for the days when women sell their lands and jewelry just to finance a race. I miss the godfathers with potbellies hanging to the side as they perfect the rigging plans. I miss getting rich and fat from campaign largesse.

Thank God we still have the thugs, otherwise this might as well be a clerical selection. The only link to the good old days is the sight of politicians hopping around the country in different outfits. It’s a cool thing to see actually. Men who would never be caught dead in a tribal outfit suddenly fall in love with them for a few hours during the election season.

I like watching the politicians in different outfits because they remind me of what an election season is – a circus. Political campaign seasons are one big, traveling circus. Circuses don’t yank my chain the way they used to. I live in a state packed with actors, musicians and models, so I’m around the circus all the time. I need something to excite me about this election. And, I need it now.

We need some colour. We want some flash. We must shake this little baby called elections up. So, I’m going to help. I will run in 2023. Yes, you heard it here first. I will be running for the Central Bank in 2023. I am ready to lead our people out of this wilderness into another wilderness. God help Nigeria!

Someone told me this election is a mere dress rehearsal for 2023. That when 2023 comes, godfathers and godsons will swing swords, national leaders will know there is a difference between history and his story. The leader may have become history without knowing it because his godson’s story is a better narrative. The good thing for me is that while they’re fighting on all fronts, I will be cruising in an armoured truck to NNPC, sorry Aso Villa.

By the way, did I say I’m running for the Central Bank? Sorry, big mistake. Who runs for the Central Bank? In 2023, I will be your president whether you like it or not. The INEC chair is my second cousin.


You must be wondering what qualification I have to run for president. First, my school certificate may consist of nine failed subjects but it’s legitimate. Second, my boss didn’t spend twelve years calling me the political Jesse James then baptising me in the Ota waters overnight and declaring me the second coming of John the Baptist. Three, have you seen the list of those running? Have you heard them speak?

I know politics in Nigeria is like swimming in a river with alligators. I will be ready. I will be prepared. I would not fail like Mama Risi, the beloved mama put owner down the road who lost a chance at the House of Representative because of misinformation. Someone told her she was unqualified because she dances too much, makes the Queen wince every time she speaks English and she didn’t graduate from high school. She was in tears when I told those qualities were tailor-made for the speakership.

Mama Risi’s misfortune taught me a big lesson. I must be doubly prepared.

I will not trip on misinformation or minor detail. I am starting by declaring my asset. Just so we’re clear, it’s not completely impossible that I have money in some places I can’t remember. I have selective amnesia. It’s a medical condition.

I have twenty goats, twenty-five pigs and fifty chickens. They have remained the same number since I started farming thirty years ago. They don’t increase or decrease. It’s one of the wonders of the universe. I have two hundred and fifty thousand naira in my bank account. I think I have one bank account but this selective amnesia thing is a bitch. I doubt if I have a foreign bank account but every time I travel, dollars and pounds have a way of falling into my wallet. I am blessed like that.

My father used to say your children are your asset. So, I’m declaring them too. As a good, patriotic Christian, I will tell the truth. I have eight or nine children, even though my wife thinks the number is five. My wife has five for me, even though I doubt the last one is mine because he’s half-caste with blue eyes and I’m charcoal black. But, I believe in letting sleeping dogs lie because she doesn’t know her godchild by her best friend is actually her stepchild or that there’s a reason her sister’s son has a striking resemblance to our second son. My loyal secretary has the other child that I know of. Did I mention that I love my wife?

By the way, did I say I’m running for the Central Bank? Sorry, big mistake. Who runs for the Central Bank? In 2023, I will be your president whether you like it or not. The INEC chair is my second cousin.

Ose is on twitter at iam_ose