I like to believe Nigeria has a special corner of the internet. Kinda like our own little compound in cyberspace. In this wonderful compound, there’s a huge shed that houses all things wedding-related and a fertile garden that grows all things gossip, which is diligently watered by Linda and Stella. There’s also a stall right next door that caters to all your penis, boob and ass enlargement creams.
One fluorescent young man has strolled into this compound and adamantly stamped his name all over it. Idris Okuneye woke up one day and decided, “Nah, you people must know me. Na by force.” And so Bobrisky was born. Exactly how many Ys must be attached to this great man’s name – well, that’s up for debate. Whichever spelling you go for, if you don’t know Boda Bob, you’re on the longest thing.
Bobrisky’s performance art is best enjoyed on Snapchat, which I personally believe was made for him. His stories are an endless reel of eyelid-batting, waist-twirling, hater-mocking clips. They are testament to what can be achieved once admittance to TeamLaiskin has been secured – albeit via chemical assistance. Above all, Bobrisky’s raison d’être can be summed up as such:
“In Bae We Trust.”
Why? Baecause Baebrisky’s baelling baegins and ends with bae. This omni-funding, anonymous sponsor is responsible for the flashy brilliance we see all over Bobrisky’s snapchat and his sugar son never fails to let us know how grateful he is for the angel investor who changed his life. Understandably, bae is never available to receive these thanks in person since it is difficult to juggle a boyfriend with the demands of marriage. All the same, bae lurks in the shadows with a bottomless purse and Snapchat will never be the same without him.
Bobrisky’s rising popularity raises many ethical questions. Can an Alhaja truly be an Alhaja if her Eid ram is funded by her grandson’s married bae? Is a bae truly a bae if you only see each other after sunset? Can your fleek truly be complete without cream and haters? I don’t have the answers. All I know is that I am typing this with a three-week old manicure that redefines ratchet, while Bobrisky’s nails are fleeking within an inch of their lives. I also know I thoroughly enjoy watching a queer Nigerian man throw all fucks to the wind.
Maybe it’s the way he sprinkles the letter R all over his words like salt. Or his intermittent Yoruba ad-libs pondering whether “ori re buru ni?”. Whatever it is, there’s something about Bobrisky that has taken social media by storm. Next step, TV show?