Street Jam: Behind the scenes
May 05, 2006
The drama at the Club Silk Street Jam started on Friday night as the stage was being constructed. Mitchell, one of the club’s DJ’s, sought to take out his frustrations on Elvis Sekyanzi.
The drama at the Club Silk Street Jam started on Friday night as the stage was being constructed. Mitchell, one of the club’s DJ’s, sought to take out his frustrations on Elvis Sekyanzi. He assured Sekyanzi that if he was not paid that very night, he would not only give him a hiding but also quit. The melee was only cooled down when Nick Wavammuno jumped into the fray and physically threw the DJ out.
Hardly had that fracas ended, when a driver of a Pajero (UAD **8A) tried to drive into the stage. Silk security jumped onto the Pajero and dragged the more than blazed driver out of the car. To avoid him jumping back into the car and continuing with his mission, he had all four tyres of his car deflated.
Meanwhile, hasn’t the poor girl seen enough? Ever since she quit WBS, ex-Showtime Magazine presenter, Doreen Kayongo must be a
forgotten chapter in the public eye. That is the only explanation we could give for the battering poor Doreen got at the hands of a diminutive but brute askari from Security Group who acted like his manliness depended on the number of times he pummelled Doreen with a baton. Doreen’s only offence at the Club Silk Street Jam was blocking the exit. “Madam, if you are getting out (sic) go. If not, go back inside,†he belted. Doreen’s pleas that she’d moved away from the noise to make a phone call, so she would get her car keys from someone still in the crowd, fell on deaf ears. She refused to move an inch. Ka-pow! and Doreen was sent sprawling on the ground. A fracas ensued and the raging askari was beaten, disarmed and arrested by a group of bouncers. He was stopped from working on the night, which was a scant consolation to Doreen who wept throughout the ordeal.
Again, despite the numerous mobile toilets (mobilets), some revellers were not content with queuing (the civilised way of doing things) and instead directed their guns into the flowers and walls. This may sound funny and nasty, but some hot-blooded souls, not ready to part with lodging fees, took to doing their business behind the mobilets. Some fell victim to the urine-gushing revellers as they emptied their guns at those doing hanky panky albeit accidentally.
Finally, there was no surprise that Jose Chameleone and Bobi Wine are not about to see eye to eye again. The good news is that the bickering and bragging rights for who goes on stage first or last in an attempt to steal the show were not there at all. First, in a bid to outdo each other, the duo pulled stunt after stunt. Backstage, one could clearly see there were different camps, each plotting different strategies. Bebe Cool sat with the Necessary Noise duo and producer Washington Ebangit. In a royal-like Garment, Bobi Wine restlessly pranced from place to place with his crew in tow. Chameleone arrived last, dressed in a dark-brown pin stripped suit,
complete with a waistcoat, white-rimmed shades (he had two pairs), and a walking stick with which he swaggered like a ‘Lord’ of sorts. Wine went on stage proclaiming himself not only in his trademark roughest, baddest tone but also saying he was president. Spotting white-rimmed shades akin to those won by circus clowns, Chameleone wanted the crowds to believe he was king but this ‘regal stunt’ was marred by his act of hitting one of his fans with a microphone. We don’t know why he did this, maybe he thought the fan who later bled was out to rob him as he was carried aloft.
Ends
Hardly had that fracas ended, when a driver of a Pajero (UAD **8A) tried to drive into the stage. Silk security jumped onto the Pajero and dragged the more than blazed driver out of the car. To avoid him jumping back into the car and continuing with his mission, he had all four tyres of his car deflated.
Meanwhile, hasn’t the poor girl seen enough? Ever since she quit WBS, ex-Showtime Magazine presenter, Doreen Kayongo must be a
forgotten chapter in the public eye. That is the only explanation we could give for the battering poor Doreen got at the hands of a diminutive but brute askari from Security Group who acted like his manliness depended on the number of times he pummelled Doreen with a baton. Doreen’s only offence at the Club Silk Street Jam was blocking the exit. “Madam, if you are getting out (sic) go. If not, go back inside,†he belted. Doreen’s pleas that she’d moved away from the noise to make a phone call, so she would get her car keys from someone still in the crowd, fell on deaf ears. She refused to move an inch. Ka-pow! and Doreen was sent sprawling on the ground. A fracas ensued and the raging askari was beaten, disarmed and arrested by a group of bouncers. He was stopped from working on the night, which was a scant consolation to Doreen who wept throughout the ordeal.
Again, despite the numerous mobile toilets (mobilets), some revellers were not content with queuing (the civilised way of doing things) and instead directed their guns into the flowers and walls. This may sound funny and nasty, but some hot-blooded souls, not ready to part with lodging fees, took to doing their business behind the mobilets. Some fell victim to the urine-gushing revellers as they emptied their guns at those doing hanky panky albeit accidentally.
Finally, there was no surprise that Jose Chameleone and Bobi Wine are not about to see eye to eye again. The good news is that the bickering and bragging rights for who goes on stage first or last in an attempt to steal the show were not there at all. First, in a bid to outdo each other, the duo pulled stunt after stunt. Backstage, one could clearly see there were different camps, each plotting different strategies. Bebe Cool sat with the Necessary Noise duo and producer Washington Ebangit. In a royal-like Garment, Bobi Wine restlessly pranced from place to place with his crew in tow. Chameleone arrived last, dressed in a dark-brown pin stripped suit,
complete with a waistcoat, white-rimmed shades (he had two pairs), and a walking stick with which he swaggered like a ‘Lord’ of sorts. Wine went on stage proclaiming himself not only in his trademark roughest, baddest tone but also saying he was president. Spotting white-rimmed shades akin to those won by circus clowns, Chameleone wanted the crowds to believe he was king but this ‘regal stunt’ was marred by his act of hitting one of his fans with a microphone. We don’t know why he did this, maybe he thought the fan who later bled was out to rob him as he was carried aloft.
Ends