have never had any talent for humour. I have no knack for jokes. Neither have I ever pretended to possess any innate ability for comedy. I know my limitations. My limitations have helped in no small way to underscore the value of those who possess such talent. It has made it possible for me to see them as a special breed with special ability. My limitation has engendered without any restraint, respect for these geniuses who are gifted with the ability to extricate with ease, tantalizing humour from the jaws of misfortunes. These geniuses are the ones who, via their seemingly unserious ways, able to drive home some serious lessons. But I must confess that I do know how to enjoy good laughter, and a hearty one for that matter, it makes my appreciation of comedians more profound.

What I do not appreciate is a wry sense of humour. Yes, I do not appreciate it, especially if it is directed at me personally. I hate dry jokes. It is bad enough if it is dry. It is worse when it becomes a reeking odour that fouls up a pulsating aroma. And in this case, I am inclined to believe that the one pulled by Dr. Abel Goubadia is a deliberate one. It is aimed to rile me up. It is meant to irritate me. It is meant to irk me. It is meant to annoy me. Yes it is meant to peeve me off. Obviously, he and his henchmen succeeded in their objective of getting at me.

There are bad jokes and there are bad jokes. This one is indeed a terribly bad one. What surprises me more is why an ordinary element like me should deserve this kind of injustice? What could I have done to deserve this bad joke? Is it not enough that I am inconsequential in the scheme of events that is presently evolving in the mad march to May madness? Is it a sin to be a dispensable journalist? Why would "highly placed" men who have helped and continue to help themselves to my father's taxes add to the woes of a deprived private citizen like me?

How can people lack compassion to this extent? Do people have their blood drained as soon as they get into positions of power? If blood has been drained from their veins, what kind of fluid is injected into their physiology? What does it take for the people in power to realize that they are over persecuting a private citizen, worst of all, through a terribly bad joke? What could an over persecuted private citizen like me benefit from those at the helm of Nigerian affairs, at least to have a sense of belonging?

I do not know Dr. Abel Goubadia. I have never met him. I have not offended him in anyway, at least in my own estimation. Hence, it was and is still difficult for me to comprehend the motive for his bad joke on me, thus giving me nightmares and premonition about my forthcoming birthday! It is a day that I always look forward to. It is a day for me, my family and those who care enough about me to celebrate my life. It is a day that I always look forward to with a lot of fantasy rather than nightmares. It is a day that I expect to be indulged rather than be unnerved. It is a day for me to reflect rather than beset with worries. It is a day for me to relax rather than recoil in apprehension.

For those who know me, I am not a womanizer. So there could not have been any chance for me to have dated Dr. Goubadia's girlfriend or any of his daughters if he has any. Judging from his name, we could not have been from the same village and as such could not have had family feud over land. When everybody was attacking him for not registering some political associations, as if I had known how vindictive he could be, I did not join them. Even, when the indefatigable Lagos lawyer, Chief Gani Fawehinmi was suing the hell out of him, I was just an innocent but interested observer. Yes, I have tried to avoid him like a plague, staying farther away as I could from him and his troubles. Obviously, this does not seem to have worked.

So, what could I have done to deserve this bad joke from Dr. Goubadia on my forthcoming birthday? Yes, we all agreed that the country has to hold another set of elections. It is a fundamental part of the democracy that we all fought for and some died for under the deranged dictator Sani Abacha. But the question is must that election be held on April 19, 2003? Yes, April 19, 2003 is my next birthday! If this is not a personal vendetta, I do not know what it is. And if it is meant to be a joke, it is a terribly bad joke carried too far! Yes, had the elections been held on another day, it would still have been someone's birthday, but the question I am here to ask is, why me? Why would Dr. Goubadia choose April 19, my birthday, as the election date? What could have been his motive? What is he out to achieve? Could this have been a coincidence? Or is it just a joke gone bad? Or is it just another vendetta against me?

Rather than ruminate about how many guests I would be entertaining, now I have to worry how many Nigerians would remain alive at the end of that fateful day. Rather than look forward to greetings of congratulations for the intervention of God who has ensured my being alive on that day, now I have to worry about how many mothers would be deprived; how many wives would become widows; how many husbands would become single parents and how many children would become orphans. Rather than use the occasion to thank God for His mercies in my life, I would be forced to ask God why is Nigeria so unlucky to be burdened with dealers as leaders.

Now instead of fantasies, I am having premonitions. Instead of sweet dreams I am having nightmares. Instead of expectations, I am having worries. Instead of thoughts of exotic wines, champagne and other form of drinks, scary thoughts of streams of blood haunts me. Instead of number of goats or chicken to be cooked for my guests, frightening number of area boys and political thugs hacked to death hold my consciousness to ransom. Instead of feelings of love, affection and gratitude that I expect to fill the air, I am nervous about political upheaval fueled by morbid ambition, wanton killings and maiming engineered by nihilistic aspirants.