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It was promising to be my best evening of the year. Here I was, chatting up the blonde Princess of England, with every possibility that by the time the cocks did their morning thing, I would have become the "Prince" of England.
For once, I had managed to dribble past Diof in the race for the Princess' goalposts. "How did you get such a funny name?" the Princess was asking. "Actually, my original name is Ssegwanga w'Angamba. I was quite happy with Ssegwanga, which translates into 'father of the nation,' until some silly wench gave it a mischievous meaning in her desperate effort to become a star singer," I offered. "What mischievous meaning?" Oh no. I may have emptied a few green ones, but I was still too embarrassed to spell out to a lady, let alone a Muzungu lady, what Ssegwanga is euphemism for. "Er…er…shall we say…er…what you would see if…er…I dropped my pants," I mumbled. That cracked her up. Surely it is no laughing matter? "See? That's why I changed it. People always asked my name just to have a laugh at my expense." "So how did you arrive at Wangy?" she asked. Now, that is a question I love answering - the explanation shows how imaginative I can be. "It is a short form of Ssegwanga. I considered Ssegy, but people would have confused me with the journalist who writes rubbish in the newspapers. I then thought of Gwanga, but I didn't want to be confused with the crazy, chain-smoking, bohemian colonel from Mubende. So I settled for Wang, or Wangy if you want to sound sexy," I explained with a glint in my eye. Princess unleashed another, longer, round of laughter. I didn't think my explanation was funny, but if the Princess sees humour in it, who am I to say it's not funny? "It's funny, but the word 'Wang' is actually English slang for penis. So your name change did not change a thing," she said, bending over with laughter. Horror. Did I apply all my creative energies to run away from the unfortunate meaning given to my name only to arrive right where I started? Damn! I felt so stupid that I gulped whatever was left in my green bottle in one go and told Princess I was heading home. To hell with becoming her Prince. "Hey, Wait. Take me with you." Now, I know a man can be lucky, but this lucky? Even in my foul mood, I couldn't turn down the offer. And so off we went. As my landlady's curfew had long kicked in at my house, we headed for this inn in Wandegeya where I have a standing order of a room. I will spare you the details; suffice it to say that everything went as one would have hoped. Everything, that is, until 'Princess' walked out of the bathroom after taking her early morning shower. I jumped out of bed screaming in terror. The blonde hair was gone. The blue eyes were gone (must have been coloured contact lenses). The knockers were gone. The white skin had turned charcoal black. When she spoke, Kamonkole English had replaced the Oxford English. Oh my God! I had taken home a "ghost" Princess of England. And she was demanding her payment!
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