Today I’m remembering an African prince I used to know. Way back in the day mid-eighties when I was young and living in an apartment block in Tottenham, in North London. One of my pals lived on the ground floor. Guy from Africa. Real smart dude. Handsome as hell...

So we’d hang out a lot, often till 5am, playing reggae, funk and rap – rocking the house, but causing the whole neighbourhood to fire anti tank guns at us! But you know, it was bad, but we was young.

Anyway, this guy’s name was Sam. But he always said to me, “I’m a prince man, back in Africa.” I just thought, yeah, yeah, dream on man.

Anyway, Sam was a naughty boy. He’d go to his club, right, down in Stoke Newington and he’d pick up loads of girls, every single time. Well, he was slick and smart. Thing was it was always white girls he pick up. And amusingly he bring ‘em up to me to get my blessing! I’d be like, yeah, yeah, Sam, go for it, run the dog up the mountain.

It really was an endless stream of girls. But like I say all white girls. And that’s what landed him in trouble and how I found out he really was an African prince.

This is how it came about. I was in my apartment and I heard some noise downstairs, shouting and screaming. So I went to investigate and there was Sam held in a stranglehold by a group of women. But these women weren’t the white women he’d picked up, and merrily dropped, which is what you’d expect. No it was a group of black girls, and they meant business. Sam was being taken down big time… no way he could get out of it; they were giving him a hell of a beating.

So I’m thinking, I need to help Sam, but I can’t go and manhandle women, like pull ‘em off like you would men. So I just went in cool and said, “Hey Sam, how’s it going? Looks like you’re in a fix? You’re lucky man, though, all these girls are seriously beautiful, stunning…” So this bit of flattery eased the girls down… then I got the story.

They were all his relatives. All African. Three were his sisters.

So one of the girls tells me, “We’re pissed at Sam, he’s going with all them white women…he’s going against his family.”

I said, “well that I can’t deny.”

Turned out Sam was supposed to marry an African girl, a princess, and him being a prince it was expected. But he wasn’t having any of it. But the African princess was beautiful, so I said, “Look if you won’t marry her, I will!” That calmed the group of African girls right down and got ‘em laughing.

In the end, I made a deal with the girls. I said, you give Sam a break and I promise to work on him, get him round to your way of thinking.

So that’s the story of Sam the African prince. Not sure what the moral of the story is… maybe it’s you gotta go with the flow and busk it sometimes to sort a situation out.

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