By Smitta Smitten

It's the first black Fridae of the year. Y'know watt that means? It meanz yur gonna have a not verrryy nice day, n feel like a burst sewer pipe in Kayole by mid-day.

Me too! So lez take a sneaky peek at 13 ‘unlucky’ celebz who ain’t likely to have a good 2012, usin’ the past as a yardstick. Me colleague Muli tellz me I got a similarity to da Grim Reaper. Dat I take a certain ‘grim satisfacion’ in me work. Grim? Who sed anything about ‘grim’?

Chiquitta is closer to the coffin wen she sez this boffin juzt enjoys havin’ hayters n on FB, checxing out how long it takes to get ‘unfwended’ by whichever woose whose case I’ve gotten on. Like herpes, once imma inna scrotumski, I am 4ever. Not e’en penicillin can gitusout.

Prezzo

I know, I know, I spared the dude the other day wen I waz all o’er losers like Tim Njiru like s**t all o’er the panye of an al Shaabab in Badda-wherever wen they hear the ‘chop chgop chichop’ of a Kenya Army hell-i-bringer copter. Thaz coz I like Jackson Ngechu. Or coz I like ter keep sumthin’ stored in the pantry, fresh to beat, wen the caning strikes.

But, rily, Prezzo juzz hads badsluck dat 4llows him around, like a strip o chw gum stuck to his boot. Wazn’t there some dee-force case momsilla from State-side who kicked le bucket, 4 shore for shizzo? Isn’t his current chicka Joy the same one who had a cleaned out Strano after they got estranged, for shore 4 shizzo?? I certainly wudn’t be havin’ a ‘Joy’ salad after all the sad storoz involving her past boyfees, for shore for shizzo.

If Jaguar’s Kigeugeu gets the nod as a campaign song, 4 shore Prezzo\s come-back will be bigly over-shadowed, thaz for shore. N yu can take it 2 the bank, for shizzo ma nizzo ( who apart from me, Prezzo n one other retarded rapper in Alabama stkl vibe like dat)?

Sheilaski Kwambox

I knw her folks will ‘nyamichaba’ me 4 this. N I’ll have to take circuitous routes in the hood to avoid the ma-french fry ( manjeve) thioke they run in the esto, but I gotta say Kwambox has as much chance of conquesting Naijja-land as a beat-up Probox has of winnin’ the on-goin’ Paris Dakar rally, twente twelof.

Klepto Roba

Wattever happened to our boy, Roba, of Klepto? Why doth his luck cut o low? Watt happened to the dream? How come in our social short circuites ( btw, wapi Circuite, na aliacha plonyo za manjeve??) one will alwez run into Collo, but ne’er into Roba of Klepto? Did his star vanisheth into the dark Western sky, wen Nyashinski disappeared there 2 go n hawk curios

( or wattever he does in Minnesota) n will it ever shine agen, like the fiatus of Rudisha, file finafyo ng’ara? Alas, sigh, n whores betide me, fey fey, the Smitten thinks ‘nyet.’

Debbie Asili

Much as it hurts the Smittski to sey this, coz Debbie is my buddy n always will be ( ne’er mind dat me ‘Debbie’ fwend request on FB is still pending), my crystal balls are sayin’ the fay damsel’s luck ain’t ‘bout to tek a turn 4 de better, in twenny twelof.

Ray C

Sumtymes yur born wit sleepy bedroom eyes, a ‘moto moto’ boody n the voice of an angel to bootyilicious n yu becum a regional diva. But then juzz like dat careless New Year draive who comes careenin’ round da corner, n smashes ya into smithereens. Ray C’s career in 2011 ( other than dat song wit Frenchboy) waz a disaster. Twas like a truck draive wearing Ray Bans in the middoo a foggy morning in Limuru had run her over. Certainly, her hair styles in 2011 looked like they been run over. N sadly, dat KBC weather gal is sayin’ the ‘manyunyus’ in Ray C’s peri peri (periphery) ain’t furi furi.

Bad Black

Stayin farther afield in the region, lez go to UG’s illest dudette, Bad Black. Smittski really shoulda sed ‘illest luck dudette,’ dude. Bad Black’s real nayme is Shanita Namuyimbwa, which makes her sound like like a cross breed tween a hood rat n a, well, hood dog! But tha stage nayme ‘Bad Black’ ain’t any better; unless yu feature in a certain genre of films that require verrr lil monologue. N wit a name like ‘Bad Black,’ yu wonder why this ‘performer’ has been banned 4rm Europe. Free mawaidha, lassies. If ya young, n are breakin’ into the showbiz na, get a name datz as harmless as Stella Wa Mwangi’s ( STL, still luv dat Lookie Lookie song). Peeps n corporates find it easier ta deal with a PYT ( Pretty Yang Thang) evn on paper, thn someone ( like Bad Black) who soundz like they shud be doing hard tyme in Lugogo!

Nancy Baraza

Now why yu wanna go n do dat, n do dat? Datz de only qu? dat been in le Smitta’s mind ever since the DCJ ( acronym sounds like a KEMRI pesticide) got into thaaat ‘mama du-rama’ wit chekurit guard Morarara ( I feel the sudden urge to say ‘achi achi.’). I know Jimmi Gait got Safcom CEO Collymore n a whole bunch of celebz to cameo in his Furi Furi video. If I waz Barasa’s PR dude, John Nyongesa ( ‘hey buddy!’), I’d talk to Mbusi we feature in a ‘Bonoko’ re-mix, to appear more ‘watu friendly.’ Who knows, a ‘Bonoko’ dance may even chomoka from theya, where dancers hold/ pinch each other’s noses as they sway in a circle, slowlee shakin’ their buttskis, as they wail ‘bonoko, bonoko, bonoko’

Three in a Row

I wanna line up three ducks in a row – the mamacita Mama Sizo, le mamsilla Muthoni Bwika, n the chicka Toxic – n potshot em in one mblast. To Mama Sizo, yu waz unlucky notta win the ‘Best Female’ coast muzik award las year. Yu bitched ‘bout it, but juzz chill coz yu gittin on in years, na unataka less bressure uishii kuona Kibaki akimea mo-hawk ( dat joke is as perennial as Kalonzo’s yout).

Bwika, I heard ‘fununus’ ati ya fishin’ to rudi redio. Hey, gal, yu ain’t no Cess Mutungi. She got ever-lasting power, while yu is an old dried out batterie. Yu got less chance of a come-back than that ‘stairo’ of peeping thongs dat was tha in-thing in tha late ‘90s.

Toxic, ya big ba-hind as carried yu as far as it can in ya ‘muzical’ career. Give it, give ‘em both, a-break!

Hellon n Timberlake

So Hellon has been to hell n back, n now has returned to jazz on Mondays at the ‘Secrets Lounje’ in tao? Me dear brother, January will be dry, nlike that wet hairgel yu got skiddin’ all o’er ya head.

N Quentin Timberlake ( dat name has alwez sounded like tha jina of a bumbling detective in an 1802 Engi-land crime novel, penny fartings they was called) seemz to have resurrected his fantasies o takin’ on the political bowers in Nyanza, n all I can say is sing dat song ‘dream on, dream awaaaayyy …’ Thn tek a biiiiggg dosage of propofol to knock yu out. Evn that other one, Jikune Jikune, started that way.