FIFA:Federation of International Fraudsters Association


FIFA as we all know is an international organisation in charge of football or soccer depending on how you call it in your country whether English or American.

In less than a year from now, world attention would be shifting towards Brazil not as a host of BRICS nations discourse on world economy but as a host to the football World Cup which comes up every four years.

Africa(South Africa) had her share of hosting football’s top competition in 2010. As we all know, prior to the world cup is a smaller event called Confederations Cup comprising of continental champions from Africa, Asia, Europe, North America, South America and Oceania.

Originally wholy hosted by Saudi Arabia and then called King Fahad’s Cup but the mobsters/fraudsters hijacked the competition from the Saudi Monarch and the rest is history.

I’ve watched in days past as Brazillians have taken to the streets of Rio De Janeiro, Brasillia, Sao Paulo, Recife, Fortaleza, Salvador, Belo Horizonte and other cities across Brazil to protest government’s failure to honor the social contract with her citizenry. Brazil is amongst the top countries to have won the world cup and it is believed that football may have started in England but the God of soccer/football is indeed Brazillian. It’s their biggest export commodity followed by sugar-cane and cocoa.

Why protest then? FIFA is in town. Yeah, FIFA looks cool like Robert De Niro and Joe Pesci in goodfellas, but look inside of the prism, they’ve come to rob you. Simply put, FIFA is a legal modern day mobster organisation that controls the casino, the mob and the street.

Brazillians are surprised at the sudden price increase of essential services and tax in order to please the mafia called FIFA. FIFA’s become so big that she looks untouchable and beyond probe.

I love football and cheer for a couple of teams like Kaizer Chiefs, Manchester United, Ajax Amsterdam, Newcastle United, Tottenham Hotspur, Real Madrid, Ashanti Kotoko, Obuasi Goldfield and still have defunct teams like Stationery Stores and Obanta United in heart. It’s one sport that can make you happy or feel depressed depending on how well your team performed.

But paying through our nose in difficult times to watch soccer and the mob gives the standard, the government squeeze her citizens to cough-out the money through tax, stadias are built, competition commences, billions are earned and the mob takes all revenue after the competition to Switzerland is totally fraudulent. This wouldn’t have happened if not with the connivance of football executives in national football associations, politicians and FIFA excos.

If Brazillians can take to the street, it’s high-time we told FIFA about her ceaseless organized fraud. Imagine your government getting involved in footballing decisions in your country, FIFA is quick to intervene and threaten to wield a suspension stick if status quo isn’t maintained.

We’re just too foolish to see that FIFA doesn’t want government to interfere with football decisions in our country but can hobnob with government to foot the bill of any FIFA competition.

‘The renovation of Fortaleza’s stadium for the World Cup cost 519m reais (£149m). According to Lopes, “the committee [Comitê Popular Copa e Olimpíadas] has been debating the legacy of the World Cup for the past three years and investigating how investments are made. What we have seen proves the country is going to be the stage for an enormous abuse by Fifa – with the endorsement of the government.”

Definitely FIFA is a government more powerful than our national government that we must bow to FIFA’s whims. What a sad state of fraud and gangsterism.

Romario Farias De Souza; Remember him? That brilliant Brazillian star at USA ’94 World Cup has this to say.

“They are taking the piss out of us with our money, the public’s money.”

“The money that has been spent on the Mane Garrincha stadium could have been used to build 150,000 housing units.#imagine

“But no, we spend it on a stadium. Is it nice? Yes. Is it practical? Not at all. Fifa is the real president of this country.

“Fifa comes to our country and imposes a state within a state. It’s not going to pay taxes, it’s going to come, install a circus without paying anything and take everything with it.”

Hope our President and our national football association would wake up to their senses to realise that FIFA is one big conman. An advance fee fraud specialist of international repute.

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Fergie Time


Life they say is a stage, you act your part and leave the stage. But when you act so incredibly and you get a standing ovation for your performance, it can be said that you’ve performed beyond excellent. Great performance is the most suited word that defines it.

You won’t blame me for supporting Manchester United. It’s so impossible having uncles like Manager, Daddy Jo, Uncle Sesan who have at one point or the other during their student days in England cheered for Manchester United and still do till today despite being above 60years.

Sir Alex Ferguson remains the greatest Manager ever; being a great artist in the game of football and the championship teams he’s built in his 26 years at the helms of affairs, rebuilding a cathedral as gigantic as ‘Theatre of Dreams’ and having Hundred of Millions followership all over the world,you’d place him on the same pedestal like some of the greatest artist of all time who’ve created evergreen arts-Michaelangelo, Leonardo Da Vinci, Mozart or modern day operatic tenor Luciano Pavarotti

The talk of Fergie’s resignation hit me like an Atomic bomb over Hiroshima on Wednesday May 8 2013 when i was looking forward to celebrating with my brother Idowu Ajayi on his birthday. How come Fergie’s resignation got into me?

Then the answers began rolling in…remembering that glorious night in Barcelona when we beat Bayern Munich in the Champions League final in Fergie time, the shouts of joy inside my University common room after trashing AS Roma 7-1, or the sneaking out of NYSC camp in Enugu to watch Paul Scholes’ thunder strike that knocked Barcelona out of the Champions League, or Michael Owen’s equaliser against Manchester City or beating Roman Abrahamovich’s Chelsea in Russia to lift our second Champions League trophy or crashing my workstation at work over Wayne Rooney’s overhead kick against Manchester City or Robbie Van Persie’s winning goal against Manchester City or dethroning our fiercest rival Liverpool by surpassing their record of 18 domestic championship.

I could go on and on with the Manchester United tradition of never say die spirit revived by no other person than Sir Alex Ferguson himself, afterall miracles happen at any point in time especially at Fergie Time. Ask those teams who’ve lost or dropped points at Fergie Time, we are MANCHESTER UNITED, it’s our mantra-We Don’t Give Up!

Take it or leave it, Sir Alex Ferguson remains the Godfather of modern day football management and his mere presence brings fear both to opponents or match officials or the FA. It’s something he’s built over the years. It’s not about being powerful or PDP muscle-wielding approach, building an empire doesn’t come without sacrifice. Ask the Brits how much it cost to build and sustain an empire.

As Sir Alex takes a bow from team management, doomsday prophets have began to predict the apocalyptic end of Manchester United and Fergie time. Your grandfathers, fathers and uncles did same after Sir Matt Busby called it a day. Guess you’ll be telling your ancestors when you eventually catch them on the other side that we wax stronger from one generation to the other. Sir Alex Ferguson and Manchester United would always live on.

Happy retirement Sir Alexander Chapman Ferguson, you’ll be sorely missed and we’ll never forget you#ThankYouSirAlex

Glory Glory Man United(3ce)
And the REDS go MARCHING ON!!!

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Torturous Valentine

Valentine’s day is a day in 365/366 days set aside to share love amongst lovers, friends maybe foes too. Am sure if you took a survey, almost everyone has something memorable to think of.

Either the boyfriend who never turned up, or the girlfriend who had many lovers at her doorstep and didn’t know who to follow, or the heart that got broken, or the Knight who took his Lady to paradise on Val’s day.

The author doesn’t have many Val tales to share but remember the date that didn’t work out after meeting Tomiwa. Tomiwa was in Faculty of Law and usually comes to my department looking for her friend Busola. Busola was a coursemate of mine and we were in our third year.

I spoke to Busola about her friend and she tried to fix us. The date was February 14, 2006. There was money to throw around because it was class assignment season. I’d written enough to sell to coursemates who never had time for assignment. I knew my customers and they paid handsomely because they got good result.

Tomiwa and I took a cab from UNILAG second gate because she was staying at a hostel near MFM area and drove to Alagomeji. After eating out and gisting, there were clear signs we were perfectly opposite of each other. The magnetism wasn’t there.

Till we graduated, anytime we bumped into ourselves, it took our brains hours to decide whether to say hello or not.

Fast forward to February 14, 2007. First semester exams final year was meant to commence that day luckily there was One-week ASUU warning strike. Prior to that, i’d gone to the faculty office to submit my semester registration, when I saw my name on the faculty board to appear before the Senate committee on exam misconduct. I almost ran mad,  suddenly became unconscious and trekked from Faculty of Arts to first gate before I gained some sanity.

I was meant to appear before panel on Val’s day. See devil! Of all days, na Val’s day dem choose. I needed to prepare my defence because I was caught after my last paper in year 3 for coming into the exam hall with a written question.

Devil always has plans. Plan one was to try to convince me not attend as my mind had passed a guilty judgement. Not attending, you get two semesters as punishment before facing the real music.

 Plan two, it was exams day. Going to the panel and not writing my first exam would automatically lead to extra semester. Don’t forget i was in my final year. Writing my first exam and not going to the panel was automatic extra year after which I’ll face the panel for exam misconduct charge. The date and time clashed and it was a battle of which to honour first.

Like I said, devil has plans but GOD has super plans. Guess GOD spoilt devil’s equation by bringing in ASUU strike. By so doing, my death was saved by some days or weeks. Devil won’t give up still. I didn’t because of ASUU strike fail to make plans for my defence because my studentship was at stake here. Ka mari ibi, make dem pursue me for school for final year. 

On Val’s day, on my way to the panel, Val’s glitz had commenced inside UNILAG and guys had started delivering cakes to their babes. As I stepped out of Sodehinde hall, I saw two coursemates of mine (Gbenle and Pepe) who were dating and were on their way out to commence Val. 

I was walking to the venue crying inside, saying prayers and thinking of the worst verdict. I still thought because of the strike the panel won’t sit. Alas, I got to the venue-Faculty of Social Sciences building on have-sex road:  Access road I meant and discovered truly it was judgement day. 

The first three guys from other departments like Sociology, Psychology and Political Science went in and came out with a ‘not so good’ report of the rigorous and brain-twisting questions. That brought fear into me. I stepped aside from negative reports and stayed in my corner praying for survival.

Was I guilty? Was I innocent? Would I get a fair-hearing? Would I be acquitted? Would I lose my studentship? Would I get some semesters? In the event I was expelled, what would become of me? How would my life turn out? How would my parents take the news? Would life be worth living? Would I get a quick passage by whatever means to the next life? Would I still be friends with my close buddies?

‘Saheed Olanrewaju Osho, Department of Mass Communication’, that brought me back to reality after waiting from 10am till 4pm before I was called in. 

My father had told me all will be well and all I needed was to be calm and respond intelligently. I got in there and the questioning began. After the first round of questions that lasted about 25minutes, I was excused and later called in for round two of questioning. It was a matter of life and death anyways. Losing or regaining what i’ve laboured for.

The only thing I remember till date is ‘are you saying those questions found on you is coincidental?’ I replied yes. ‘how come the questions found on you and that of the lecturer are the same?’ intuition I said. Then the killer question ‘Gentleman define coincidence?’ As if I never heard that word before, honestly it took me about seven minutes to reply.

By 5pm I was asked to take my leave. New Hall was bubbling with Valentine activities and I didn’t just blend in. I walked into my hall, spoke with a few friends who wanted to know how it went, packed my bag and went home. 

Eventually I was acquitted with no extra hour as punishment. It’s one Valentine i’ll never forget. The Valentine’s day I went through hell without a burn on my dry skin.

Peace out!


When Love Takes Over

Love the essence of Life

shawn's blog

I haven’t picked up my pen in a loooonng time to write but lately, I’ve been feeling like I need to let the world know how I feel…
Kelly Rowland and David Guetta’s “When Love Takes Over” has been repeatedly in my head these past few days…and really, love has taken over me *huge grin*

I’m in love! Yes! I can scream it all round town and tell it on d mountains too.

I’m in love with the most caring, loving, adorable…*i could go on till eternity* man in the world. He’s given love a new meaning in my life. He makes me float and His love keeps me excited and joyful all day.

Love is not pain or bitterness or anger unlike some people’s belief, love is kind, gentle, patient,humble, love isn’t easily angered, love endures…Love makes you want to give your all without thinking twice or having second…

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25 Crazy Things About Oshman1881

Born to a Muslim father and Christian mother…my paternal family call me Saheed while my maternal family call me Lanre…figure out my religious leaning.

I love my family and have this special respect for my elder brother. He may not be perfect but I always and still  look up to him. I’ll bleed for my family anyday anytime. 

I don’t discuss religion outside. Scared of blasphemy.

Was once scared I was gonna turn out like ‘Okonkwo’ in Chinua Achebe’s Things Fall Apart.

I love women no doubt and once thought of marrying many and housing them in a big house like ‘Goodwill Lodge’.

I think my romance with Arthur Guinness Stout was made in Heaven. Coincidentally I got the inspiration to write this chugging Guinness after close of work yesterday. Guinness to cure the turbulent first two days of the week.

I once gave up on love then decided am just gonna impregnate someone and sire a child. I’ve found love and it’s bliss.

I’ve always dreamed of proposing to my fiancée Seun in a cable car over Obudu Cattle Ranch. Money changed plans o!

I know my fiancée is gonna be a great mum and am also gonna make a proud hubby n dad.

I hate to see women breastfeed their kid in public. Dear future wife, pls don’t do this. You’ll get a quick exeat to your father’s house.

The best year of my life so far was in University of Lagos although i got my nickname (Oshman) from Secondary School. You won’t know the story behind the name if you didn’t live in the jungle called ‘school hostel’. Had crazy coursemates and friends within and outside my department. Eg Nizzle, Rogers, McCoy, Ferdo, Sholay, Pa K, Skippo Dales, Balo, Mondiu etc.

I never in my wildest dream intended to study Mass Communication. Law or International Relations were my choice discipline but  Mass Comm was a better option to Business Education  when UNILAG admission wahala set in.

Once setup a media company with some of my friends. It failed because of organizational and managerial skills. Twitter made their concept free while we intended to charge for ours.

From Primary School to University, i’ve always faced a misconduct panel and those misconduct almost affected my studentship. Call me trouble maker, i get experience facing panel well well!

The reason I never practiced journalism is the fear of writing a damning story and someone coming after me or my family like Dele Giwa.

Am Ijebu and proud of my background. You can kidnap or bribe me with ‘Egusi Ijebu’. 

You don’t need to remind me of favours you did to me. I know who helped me out in my hour of need. And pray am blessed to pay them back someday.

I support and  love to cheer for Manchester United. That’s d religion I worship. 18 is my favourite jersey number formerly worn by the Legendary Paul Scholes.

I love twins and would love to have them after my first child/daughter. Preferably one boy one girl.

I love to watch the ‘Adamu Orisa Play’ and my favourite Eyo masquerade is ‘Eyo Etti’. It’s the closest to my ancestral home in Okepopo area of Lagos Island.

Don’t offer me Coke, or Lacasera or Energy Drink. It deadens my teeth for days such that I can’t chew meat or fish.

I like travelling and would love to visit many cities-Rio, Madrid, Rome, Havana, Sydney, Tokyo, Beijing Berlin, Mumbai (list plenty o). Ijebu ode is amongst my favourite holiday destination. A cost effective way of escaping the Lagos madness. I should retire there after a busy work life.

I don’t know how to play card games. I was raised with the belief that it’s for gamblers.

I know am gonna play and win the lotto one day. That kinda megabucks jackpot like $200,000,000. Not Naija lotto o. Like all those New York or Euro lotto.

I believe in life after death and giving alms. Have this opinion that my ancestors usually come in disguise to ask for favours, the more you give the bigger the reward they give you back. That doesn’t mean u should beg me for money. My instinct tells me when they are around for such favours.

Oshman1881 works during the day as a Brand and Marketing Communications consultant at Brand Believers Limited. A marketing communications agency in Lagos.


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Negotiation Tactics: The 10 Minute MBA Course on Negotiation


Want to learn the negotiation tactics of an MBA?

I’ve cleaned up and distilled notes from the excellent negotiating course I took in MBA school taught by MIT lecturer John Richardson.


  • Always, do your homework. Success in negotiation is strongly correlated with time spent preparing.
  • Preparing in a group helps; others will come up with things you didn’t.
  • Be ambitious. There’s usually a connection between aspiration level and what people get. (Obviously, you can go too far, so look at your benchmarks.)
  • It’s very valuable to have things you don’t want in a negotiationso you can give them away for things you do.

Early In The Negotiation

  • Focus on influencing them, not being passive and waiting for them to decide. If you want to influence them be clear and consistent. Influencing is like teaching. You are teaching the other group to negotiate. Explicitly talk with the other…

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Nightfall on Friendship…When A Hommie Floats Away

Solemn Music in Charlie Winston’s voice :

He went quietly

he didn’t make a sound
he went quietly
With the wish not to be found
he went quietly
Without a word of where…’Forgetting is Easier’

Bebo was his pseudonym. Although inherited from his elder brother. He was well-known than his elder brothers. Known either as a keeper of fine dogs in his early days or a  talented snooker player in Ebute Metta where he grew up.



I met Dare through my cousin Idowu about the time we were writing JAMB countless times to gain admission to University. Idowu and Dare were childhood friends and attended the same church. Our paths jammed and we struck a good friendship chord.


I fondly remember those days prior to gaining admission to UNILAG when we would save money, go to UNILAG, play snooker at Sodehinde Hall and place bet on Bebo. We always left UNILAG with our pockets filled with money due to Bebo’s ingenuity on the snooker table. He could clear the table from the beginning of the first break if you gave him the stick to start the game. That was how good he was. Always calm and wearing a smile, he would applaud a ‘Steve Davies’ if you beat him in a match. A gallant loser if he lost one and humble in victory. Idowu, myself and LAKO would stand by the corner of the common room counting his victories and the financial rewards/proceeds of his numerous snooker matches.

Bebo was easy going and loved partying. I always envied him at parties and especially in church. He was a gifted dancer and passionate drummer, while I was a talented spectator. He would mimic everyone’s dance step and always got it right at the first attempt. Sometimes I always felt GOD wasn’t fair enough for making Bebo a great dancer with his usual sidekick Koya Okuboyejo while I watched their dance steps.

He wasn’t the usual trouble maker but had a standing army in the hood if you touched him. That was the height in which he was loved and he needed not raise a fist to fight because he was well known and peeps always had his back in the event you wanted a street brawl.

His father took every of his friends like his own child. Not just in terms of advise but also through prayers. We saw his father as our spiritual father especially during my ‘photogate’ scandal in UNILAG. Bebo was a good friend to hang out with; either in church, party, whatever occasion. He had the right words and songs to knock off any insult or mischief. Sometimes we just wonder what kind of being he was.

So many funny moments I could think of when Bebo came around to lighten the mood. He was a ‘Happy Go Lucky’ chap. In recent times I haven’t set my eyes on Bebo. Bebo would see me from afar and shout my alias-‘Seedorf’, gimme a hug and back slap. While I would hail in return ‘Bebo Pedro Thomas Thompson-Elegushi’. We were looking forward to the day when Bebo would buy a plot of land around Elegushi his usual fun spot. I know I haven’t been hanging out lately with my Ebute Metta crew  because am usually out of state.

Last week Sunday (29-06-2014)was your birthday, I missed out his birthday not knowing that’s his final birthday and hangout with his close pals. I got an early morning call today from Idowu while in Abeokuta saying Bebo had set sail with no hope of return. Shocked to the marrow to hear my friend and brother had travelled to the great beyond without a goodbye.

Idowu’s wedding is two months away, your suit and shirt sewn, so we could rock hard like we did at Laolu’s wedding. Your bosom friends can’t be consoled as we shed tears like babies deprived of breast milk.

May your soul find peace in your creator’s bosom.

At Jesus feet we meet again.

”Just a few more weary days and then
I’ll fly away
To a land where joy shall never end
I’ll fly away

I’ll fly away, oh Glory yes I’ll fly away when I die
Hallelujah by and by I’ll fly away”

Rest in Peace Dare Adebanjo aka Bebo

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Open Heart

My heart has stopped beating for a while now. It’s stopped beating but am on my feet still walking. It’s stopped beating but am not dead yet. Living with the hope that my heartbeat would come to life again, my heart would pump fresh blood to all parts of my body and I’ll be well and happy again without the fear of something terrible will happen and my heart would go unresponsive again.

A cardiologist can’t work on this no matter the long hours I spend in the theatre while my heart is torn with a surgical knife. A cardiologist can’t work wonders on this. Bring the best cardio from any part of the world. He’ll leave my heart the way he’s met it.

Me alone have the cure to make it spring back to life again depending on whether I want an improvement or want it remain as it is.

I’ve had my fair share of love-the oil that pumps my heart and makes it lively. I’ve hurt someone in the past depriving them of the same oil to power their heart and bring them the desired happiness they crave and I’ve had my oil supply cut short a couple of times.

Love they say has a sweet beginning but we don’t know it’s end. Either loving your food, pet, parent, school, job. The moment a slight hiccup occurs, it send cold shivers down our spines. The next moment, the love we have for whoever dies, some other things die with it.

I’ve always wondered how did friends and relatives find love and got it right and in my subconscious i ask myself where did I get mine wrong? Was I fooling around while others were keeping it real? Was I unfazed while others were pushing it hard? Was I scared to love again after a heartbreak? Was I still sulking long after she’s left my heart shattered like a fallen china plate? Was I of the belief that she’ll come back someday and heal the heart she broke?

It’s a tough call! To the few I’ve poured out my mind to, what I’ve gotten in reply was ‘staying single is a stingy form of not sharing the love inside of you’. Love they say transcends race, color and other worldly strings we’ve attached to it just to make love flourish and boom.

There’s love out there waiting for us only if we are ready to pour out our love too. We’ll get hurt somehow along the line. Just keep loving till that special person turns up and makes us forget the pains and hurt of the past.

Though my heart has been closed for over a year with no possible hope of opening my heart. Not a permanent closure though, looks like it works better when not oiled than being oiled and someone comes in and creates a mess of the whole place.

I await the force that ‘ll hit me, can’t wait to be hit. And when love hits me, I won’t throw a fight or resist, I won’t even try to negotiate. I’ll just open my heart again without the thought that this fate would befall me- pains, anger, hate, rejection, for loving the right person and being loved in return. Only this would open a closed heart again. Coming across a loving heart, the key to having a loving/lovely heart.

Till then, I’ll know how wonderful it is by showing love and being shown love and my heart opens up forever.

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