DJ MO and Size 8 : An Ugly, Annoying Exhibitionist Couple whose time to shut the hell up has come
One is a conceited, puckering mafia DJ with an overrated Sunday morning TV gig and the other is, well, a loud, boyish woman with what she believes is a talent to sing.
Together, these clowns form a couple and one of the most seethingly annoying couples of the 21st Century.
On TV, DJ MO is the conniving, machiavellian gospel music tyrant who has monopolized the sector with an iron fist and fashioned himself as the de facto father of the Gospel industry, propping himself up to appear like the Savior and mentor of all nascent gospel singers.
DJ MO, real name, Sammy Muraya, is the guy that has, for years, cunningly manipulated his position as a TV DJ to win accolades, favors, Awards and unquestionable reverence – and acknowledgement – from the industry players.
A talent-search product who shot to fame circa 2010, going on to secure a TV show and quickly set up a entertainment outfit, DJ MO has, over and over, sat on the throne of deejaying as if he invented it.
We have enough sordid stories of the crass manipulations and unscrupulousness that goes on around System Unit and how DJ MO handles the outfit as a one man show – for his own mercenary sake.
On Crossover, a show that has questionably bagged over six Groove Awards, since the inception of the Awards, DJ MO, or as he likes to christen himself, remains at the helm, finding ways to sway the public and, with a maddening smile and below-par presentation skills, seek to engineer the masses his way. And only way.
He then married that flame-haired, foot-kicking martial arts ghetto chick Size 8, a former secular singer who ditched the genre and crossed over (pun unintended) to the Gospel realms only to drag along her secular traits into the Church. And that irritating and intolerable voice and hoodrat mannerisms.
Mama Wambo, as she proudly calls herself of late, will be everywhere, all the time – kicking her little butt away, Kung Fu-ing her way around the stage, talking and talking and talking and displaying her substandard acting skills on TV for a slim cheque.
Born and bred in the trenches, this do-gooder has been unable to shake away her shantytown tendencies and continues to act like a cheap drug peddler in a crowded, stinky slum.
Her speech is as unrefined as the crude oil in the shores of the Nile Delta.
And her tendencies to talk like a motorboat, rumbling on and on and on, like Friday Castro on steroids, is as annoying as it’s insufferable.
Like a bored house girl, Size 8 never knows when to stop talking. And acting up. Even when what’s she’s saying has the same level of sense as a speech by a three-year old who’s just shit his pants.
The Kenyan music industry has never endured a player that’s as disgustingly gaudy, lurid and pyrotechnical as Size 8.
It’s common knowledge – girl can’t even sing to save her butt.
But you’ll find her in the studio everyday, in a tasteless music video every now and then, exaggerating her way around, with her shrivelling face filling up the screen. Thinking she’s done an excellent job.
Pssssh.
No couple sucks quite like this one.
From their Instagram posts, all of which are filled with infantile displays of fatuousness and TMI’s, to their on-screen romances, this couple has a bloated sense of all-importantness that should be shunned and scolded at at all given times.
Like the overelaborate life of Diamond Platnumz, DJ MO and Size 8 made the birth of their daughter a national affair, as if anyone really cared about the last details of how a regular showbiz couple was bringing some child into the world. And at what intervals they were changing her soiled napkins.
DJ MO and Size 8 then forced Ladasha Belle Wambo into our faces – yeah, we care that much – and even, for good measure, because, 2016, started an Instagram account for the little thing that hadn’t even learnt how to grasp on a breast properly.
As. If . We. Cared.
Day after day, the happy-go-lucky couple not only choked us with the last intimate details of how their marriage was fairing, they also dragged along the offspring into the whole cocktail – just to screw things up a notch.
Slowly, we were unintentionally coaxed into following an insipid Instagram reality show, filled with mawkish romances and a day to day menu on how far some baby had grown. And such balderdash.
Just shut up already, third-rate Kim and Kanye!
All this time, Size 8, the goddess of the heavens, continues breaking rule after rule and dropping songs that cannot even be classified as religious by a world-traveling Hippie.
And that’s how we ended up with
A 3.46 seconds of nothing but pure stupidity and nothingness. In the name of a Gospel song.
On, Size 8 tried defending the train wreck in the best way she could – concocting a string of endless tales that were neither here nor there. As Willy Paul, glumly seated like a freezing cabbage, nodded his head all along.
As if we all don’t keep what a piece of crap that ‘song’ is.
But did you expect anything better? From a teenage boy that can’t stop stealing other people’s music and a mother that can’t stop yelling and in her songs?
Dj MO, the Pope Of the Gospel Industry, also quickly jumped to the rescue of his Babe. Who was sinking faster than a US Airways Flight 1549 in the Hudson River.
On Instagram, he wrote,
NgoriAyayayesukapungalakuchukuchu
Puh-leeeeze.
Just concentrate on what pedestrian songs to play on Sunday, Mr. Jesus Boy.
We can’t leave the sacred business of interpreting righteousness to you. Or to your Jet Li wife.
But no matter how sick and tired you are of this showbiz couple, they are not in a hurry to leave. Or to tone down the adolescent antics.
And that’s what hurts.
