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You think petrol became expensive in 2026? Cute. It actually became expensive the day Nigeria’s political class realised they could sell you empty air, stamp a piece of paper “premium motor spirit,” and cash the cheque at the Central Bank. The most elegant example remains the MT Emerald.
In the grand theatre of Nigerian public life, where contracts are signed with the solemnity of wedding vows and then abandoned with the enthusiasm of a jilted lover, few dramas have rivalled the Federal Republic of Nigeria v Process & Industrial Developments Ltd saga. The 2020 English High Court decision ([2020] EWHC 2379 (Comm)) was merely the intermission. The full production, complete with bribes, perjury and a near-$11 billion bill, only reached its denouement years later. Yet that September 2020 judgment by Sir Ross Cranston remains the pivotal moment when Nigeria was allowed, against all the usual arbitration orthodoxy of finality and speed, to drag the whole rotten affair into the light.
Every crisis deserves a prompt, and the far right is nothing if not punctual. Five men were arrested early on a Sunday near RAF Fairford, the Gloucestershire base from which US B-1 bombers have flown missions against Iran, after a local farmer noticed three white vans heading towards it. Bomb disposal robots trundled about the woods, and dozens of villagers were bundled out of their homes. Nigel Farage, meanwhile, had already left the building, intellectually speaking.
There is an old legal maxim that justice must not only be done, but must also be seen to be done. Somewhere between Osadebe Avenue and King’s Square, however, that venerable principle was evidently fed into a shredder, doused in kerosene, and traded for prime-time television ratings.
At the height of the Troubles in Northern Ireland, the British government imposed restrictions on the direct broadcast of the voices of leading members of the Irish Republican Army (IRA) and associated organisations. Most notably, the BBC and other broadcasters were prohibited from airing the voices of figures such as Gerry Adams, then president of Sinn Féin, which was widely regarded as the political wing of the IRA. Television stations resorted to using actors’ voices to relay statements instead.
