“I want to become an influencer,” he said with the seriousness of a surgeon. “All my mates are posting pictures with funny dog filters and people are liking it. I want to go viral too!”
We tried to talk him out of it. “Grandpa, maybe start with WhatsApp,” I suggested gently. He shook his head. “WhatsApp is for family gossip. I want to be famous.”
So, we set him up with a Facebook account. He named it Grand_Daddy_Swagger99, even though he was born in 1950. Then came the profile picture—he insisted on wearing sunglasses indoors while holding a cat that clearly wanted no part of his modeling career.
He began his influencer journey by posting random thoughts like:
“Back in my day, the only thing we poked was the firewood. What is Facebook poking?”
Or: “How do I tag my meat vendor here? He deserves recognition.”
His posts started gaining attention, not because they were insightful, but because they were hilariously confusing. One post simply read:
“Went to buy bread, came back with plantain. Why? Because life.”
People thought he was a comedic genius. They had no idea he was just being Grandpa.
The real chaos started when he discovered hashtags. At first, he used them sparingly. But after watching a YouTube video titled “Hashtags that Go Viral”, he became unstoppable.
A single post would go like this:
“Cooked rice today. #Blessed #ChefGoals #MasterOfRice #HotGrandpa #KingOfKitchens #PlantainOverload #NoGasButStillCooked #InternetChampion”
It was like watching a car crash in slow motion—cringe-worthy but oddly fascinating.
Next, he joined TikTok. Lord help us.
His first video was just him trying to use a blender, but the lid flew off, and smoothie hit the ceiling. He looked into the camera and said, “Modern technology is witchcraft.” That clip got 300,000 views in two days.
Now convinced he was “internet royalty,” Grandpa started giving advice to “his followers.” Here’s a sample:
Life Tip #3: If the soup tastes bad, just add more pepper. People will be too busy crying to notice.
Health Tip #7: If your back hurts, don’t go to the doctor. Just lie down and pretend to be furniture.
He then tried to do a dance challenge. Picture this: a septuagenarian in slippers trying to do the “Cuppy Slide” in slow motion. He ended the video with, “I might need ointment.”
His fame exploded. News outlets started calling him the Elderly Entertainer Extraordinaire. My mom nearly fainted when she saw Grandpa being interviewed on a livestream by a Gen Z influencer who said, “Your energy is FIRE!”
Then came the merchandise phase.
He asked me to help him print T-shirts with his quotes. Imagine people walking around with shirts that read:
• “I sneezed and my back cracked. #OldButGold”
• “Soup before love. Always.”
• “If you’re reading this, I probably need a nap.”
He made money—real money. One day, he walked into our living room and dropped a bag of cash on the floor.
“I’ve decided to buy a cow,” he said.
“Why?” we asked.
“For content,” he replied. “I’ll name it WiFi. That way, when it runs away, I can say I lost connection.”
At this point, we all gave up. Grandpa was unstoppable. He hired a young guy named Tobi as his personal cameraman, who followed him everywhere—even to the barber’s, where Grandpa asked for a “fade with a side of wisdom.”
But like every internet saga, there was a twist.
Grandpa accidentally posted a video meant for the family group—of him yelling at the TV because he thought the weatherman was lying on purpose.
“You said no rain, but my slippers are swimming. You, sir, are a fraud!”
The video hit 2 million views in three days.
And now? He has a cooking show called “Boil It Like Grandpa,” where he teaches people how to make old-school recipes like yam porridge with 17 different spices.
He even wrote a book titled “Swipe Right on Life: The Chronicles of a Digital Granddad”.
So, if you’re scrolling one day and come across an elderly man making eba with a fan blowing directly into the pot while saying, “This is how the ancestors did it,” just know—that’s my Grandpa.
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