Tuko na CALL_E_MORE

By Smitta Smitten

Middle of the week n word from Ogilvy n Mather’s luvlee n efficient PR-ladie Sue was; “Smitta, get cha tuishie Carni.”
“Wattever for?”

“Niko na Safaricom Live,” she sed.

“Pia mie niko na Safcom.”

Anyway, thaz how me n the Sharonova found ourselves rollin’ up on LA highway, me lady worried dat the lil orange skirt she’d worn wit her green topski could be mis-seen as anti-Saf.

“No sweat, swity,” I sed and added, “Kerubo will juzz make ya take it off at the entrance; n give ya a green grass skirt. (Imma too-ooo funnie).

Inside Carni, I salimiad Endomol’s Neilantel K (wit whom we layter roll ter Malindi) n OJ Oballah, the blogger, sat nexta me.

“ Wit Itumbi n dat bugger of a blogger Alai in sewer shizzle up to his kneeskis, ya next,” I teased OJ (4 the record, I feel nada for socio-media gutter who to call em ‘sewer rats’ wud be an insult to every self-disrespectin sewer rat in Korogosh).

And then there is Redsan, who waz there wit his loyal man Friday (bouncer Sammy) n we had a most pleasant chit-chat, n he spoke of doin a Spotlight for Pulse.

The other big ole celeb, Nameless, was under the canvass; n as always twas a super pleasure to see Ka-Monski.

Wahu too, who ever since she came to me Princess Adhis book launch in June (along wit cool peeps like Eric Wanjoh’e) will always have a soft-soft spot in me heart, rent-free.

Anutha ole favourite, Patricia Mbatia-Macha, whom I like lots n admire wit all me heart, just added to the razz-ma-dazzle of the occasion.

Some Cool More
Shaffie then turned my head by braggin’ how we, the Blues aka Chelski, are the greatest team in the English Premier League  — n I invited a new Sminglish word for dat kinda braggadocio – ‘Swarrogance.’

While sisi Chelski are like that chap in Runda who is just ongezaing bungalows hapa kuree, willy nilly, in his sprawling grounds, Arsenali is like that jamaa who has crowded his eleven tois into an SQ sumwhere — n they disappear to kula supper @ the neis n never rudi!

Away from the local celebrity royalty, I salimiad ole colleagues like Tony Gachukia n wundered watt ole uns like Vic Seii thot of the(ir) new hip generation of crooners — Camp Mulla.

I certainly know watt Safcom tsar Bob Collymore thot of the stars on his stage. After they’d all performed, he sed he alwez felt like giving fatherly advice to the Camp Mulla kids; and that Jaguar is too street-wise to advice (oh yeah!).

Bob ‘Call-Me-More’ also tole those gangstas of Sauti Sol they so good, he needs advise from them, sed he had advice for Size 8 but she leaves him speechless ( lol, us too, sire, us too), n joked wit Jimmi Gait to go get some furi classes in choreography.

All in all, a good show n great promise of the live town-to-town shows to come. The only downside to the eveski waz dat in the celebrity crush, a Carni trainer called George A vanished wit me change from a tipski n the new lil Mrs Strano kept buggin me about Muendoski.