Good afternoon, people.

I’ve been away from this blog so much, I won’t even make an apology. I’ve even lost all my fans. No wonder this place is so hot. *sigh*

Some fine girl came (get your mind out of the gutter) up to me yet again last week to tell me that I’m no longer funny and blah blah. This shit really hurts. I never got “Wana you’re handsome” or “Wana you’re making me bark like a bingo” or “Wana you’re turning me on metaphorically” compliments. The only compliment I ever got was “Wana you are funny”. And now you all wanna take that from me? Nah fam.

In light of all this, I shall like to announce that Wana’s Playbook is no longer a humor blog. It is now a religious blog. I have no interest in making people laugh anymore, and I have fears that rapture is near. Have you looked at the Premier League table recently? Signs of the end times, I tell you.

To prove that I’m a changed man, I’m going to give my first sermon. Now. Settle down people.

This sermon shall come from “All The Girls remix” by Omo Akin and Jesse Jags. This song bears 4 strong lessons I will like to share with you.

Can I get an Amen? Can I get an Halleluyah? Can I get a Turn Up?

The song starts with a powerful message: Ikebe no dey heavy the owner.

Amen. Ikebe no dey heavy the owner. Ikebe can never, and will never, heavy the owner. The meaning of this is simple: God will never give a human being a burden bigger than what he or she can bear. God will not give you a big yansh without giving you the strong vertebrae to support it. He will not make you broke without providing Unilag girls that will still love you so, as long as you can buy Suya and Fanta. Cold Fanta oh. He will not give you a brain full of dope tweets without giving you the means to share them with the world.

That last sub was mine, by the way. You know I am… Never mind.

Amen. Halleluyah. Turn Up.

The second point I would like to draw from the song is the power of repetition. Over the course of the song, Omo Akin constantly screams “I love booty booty booty booty booty booty…”. The lesson here, is that once is not enough. Amen.

You don’t read once and expect to pass an exam. You have to read over and over. Over and over and over if you’re a student of Unilorin. You don’t LOL one of her tweets and expect her to let you slide into her DMs. You have to LOL and LOL like you was fucking Lola Rae. You don’t thrust just once and expect her to come. You have to bend her and grab her waist and thrust and thrust and thrust…

Amen. Halleluyah. Turn Up.

The 3rd thing has two parts: Patience and Understanding. For the first 2 minutes of the song, Omo Akin kept screaming that the booty was a nonsense. But he was patient to try to understand the booty, and found out that the booty was also a crime, a weapon, a gunshot, and a bomb.

Never judge a book by the cover, or a girl’s head game by her avatar. Be patient and pray for understanding in these matters, and you will never go wrong.

Amen. Halleluyah. Turn up.

The last lesson from the song, is that it all gets better in the end.

After 3 minutes of listening to Omo Akin scream like a black man who just tasted white pussy for the first time (have you heard these niggas before?), Jesse Jagz comes in and delivers a masterpiece verse.

This is proof that despite whatever travails you may be going through in life, it will one day end and give way to better things. If you’ve been going to ICM only on Tuesdays because that’s when you can get free popcorn, the time will come when you can go on Saturday to watch a 3D movie and still buy popcorn. If you have been borrowing/stealing your neighbour’s WiFi, the day will come when you too can afford to own your own WiFi. If you’ve been climaxing under 2 minutes, the day will come when you’d be able to last for 2 days.

Amen. Halleluyah. Turn Up.

I hope we have all taken something useful from this sermon, and I hope to be back here whenever I get  a girlfriend or Arsenal wins the Premiership.

In other words, I ain’t coming back anytime soon.

Before we leave, I shall like us to put the song’s memory line in our heads.

“Who get this ikebe show me the owner… Bo sen gbon gbon gbon you are give me a boner.”

Laters, baby.