THE LENNY BRISCOE II REPORT

                                                                I was relieved when the new boy sauntered into the office. He had good looks. For a long time, I had felt like Atlas, bearing the heavy burden of being the sexiest Black guy in the office on my not-too-broad shoulders. That, believe it or not, can be a tad wearisome. The new boy had brought some much needed competition. No, I’m lying. I’m only joking. The real story starts in the next paragraph. Truth is, for a long time, I was the only Black on Black guy in that office. There was a mixed-race guy in there as well, in another team. But they are called “mixed-race” for a reason, hello? Then much later, a few men of melanin were thankfully drafted in. Thus, between myself and the aforementioned new boy starting, there had been two other “brothers”.  But the new guy – let’s call him by his real name Jamal* – had some confidence about him that made me pay attention. He reminded me of a younger me and that’s a massive c

...From being drowsy with sleep only minutes earlier, I surprised myself with how quickly I became acutely aware of my surroundings in a flash. And it had everything to do with Ata Kak's twin standing over me with his triumphant  (yet super-infuriating) smile. He looked remorseless. After all, he had woken me up without physically waking me up. He had achieved his aim. I knew he was not entertaining thoughts of robbing a brother. I did not think that robbing innocent people with a smile on the perpetrator's face was the in-thing. Also, there were about a million cameras on the train and we were not remotely close to our destination. So, what did this stranger want? I hoped he wasn't after a piece of my ass long d*** style, because if he was, then he was about to get his ass kicked, skinny fist style. Obviously , I have nothing against homosexuals but I am straight-er than the Prime Meridian. And rape is wrong. He sat down but respectfully kept an empty seat betw

I sat in the corner listening to the clean version of To Pimp a Butterfly on the Virgin train, returning to base from a draining but ultimately rewarding London trip. [By the way the London trip was really brief. In case you live in London and are wondering why your favourite narrator – me, that’s who – did not ring you (or your ex-girlfriend for that matter)]. The trip hurt my wallet as well. No, really. What with shop after exclusive shop within inches of each other and the rather annoying 50p charge to urinate. A 50p pee fee to have a little leak was a piss-take, quite literally. In all, I must have spent a little fortune just squeezing water out of my 3 rd leg and my annoyance was further compounded by the fact that half of Londoners have no clue what a urinal is. I thought these were predominantly English people? No? I remembered to ask about a “loo” just in time on one occasion or I would’ve wet myself. I swear it was a 20p charge back when I lived there. Oh wait, that m

It's that time again... The new year resolution population are at it again. It's near impossible to scroll down my timeline on Facebook without seeing someone from somewhere vowing to either stop or start something or both. A few lazy part-time writers (ahem) claim they intend to pen more dense material in 2016. Amen. A couple of friends intend to get closer to their Maker. No, not in terms of getting closer to their respective deaths or anything like that but in terms of drawing closer via spirituality and embracing their faiths more. Amen. A number of people have resolved, for whatever reason, to stop eating meat of any kind this year -  well, until convenient amnesia kicks in on a binge-drinking night out and they end up wolfing down a monster-size bucket of kebab. Of course,there will be the feigned remorse in the morning and of course there will be the standard excuse of it being a "hangover cure", whatever that may be. There is also the category wh