Yesterday, I was asked to be on the Anti-Duhring Battalion’s show on London Hott Radio
The radio station is also a cafe just off Streatham High Street in London.
The show featured President Obonjo Obonjo of the Lafta Republic (a UK circuit comedian for the last three years) and religious cult leader Pastor Femi.
I mistakenly believed Pastor Femi was a character act too, but he turned out to be a genuine Senior Pastor in the City of Light Evangelical Ministries.
Their website proclaims:
“The Mandate of the Ministry was received on the 27th of May 2013 and the Word received was Bring Light back into every City through the preaching of the undiluted Word of God by releasing the Light in the Gospel into every sector via businessmen/ women, students, athletes, footballers, singles and married, politicians etc.”
It might have been interesting to talk to the pastor at some length about God’s very specific mention of footballers, but the radio show over-ran somewhat and I had to go home, partly to preserve what little sanity I had left.
The radio show was due to start at 5.00pm and end at 6.00pm. The pastor had not arrived by 5.00pm so – somewhat oddly I thought – we waited for him.
When he had not appeared by 6.10pm (he was still apparently on the A3 into London) we started the show.
He arrived at 7.30pm. The show was still on air (or, more correctly, in cyberspace).
The show finished at 7.55.
Somewhere during the course of the three hours, President Obonjo Obonjo observed: “We seem to be working on Nigerian time.”
He is allowed to say that.
He was born in Liverpool. Moved to Nigeria when he was 5. Moved to London when he was 20.
The radio show seemed to mostly involve discussing pies, which took me a little by surprise. I was introduced as a famous author and religious expert. Which took me a little by surprise. And there was a phone-in from a man who sculpted things. Living things. Well, dead living things. Furry animals, it seemed. He had apparently posted one to the radio show by Royal Mail – a sculpted blend of dead furry animal and IKEA sign, it seemed… but it had somehow got lost in the post.
By this time – halfway through the show – I was not surprised.
As I travelled back home in a train with President Obonjo Obonjo (me to Elstree; he to St Albans), he said to me:
“What just happened there?”
I had no answer.