What to do with a cassette tape and a pencil. And how many times a man can turn his head and pretend he just didn’t see.

Managing to string an English sentence together. (Still a work in progress for this Afrikaner tongue.)

Revenge is an Email. That one where the #GuptaLeaks whistleblowers ‘Stan’ and ‘John’ act their own roles under their real names and won an Oscar for starring in the contemporaneous thriller, set in the southern most point of a Shithole. The last scene is a pan-out of Ajay, Atul and Rajesh fighting over toilet paper while Jacob Zuma, in the opposite cell, surreptitiously attempts to gobble down a block of chocolate Duduzane had passed on in secret from the opposite corner. Down the corridor, Lynne Brown is humming: “Ain’t no angel gonna greet me. It’s just you and I my friend. And my clothes don’t fit me no more.” Remember that one? Yes. My favourite film. Also: All the President’s Men.

Tom Moyane’s. I’d call him up, saying: “Ground control to Major Tom, you really made the grade and the papers want to know whose shirts you wear. Now it’s time to leave the capsule, if you dare.” The guy lives in a parallel universe, mos.

People living in a parallel universe.

I’m a space traveller; I’ll get you anyway.

Satan. He’s a man of wealth and taste.

Dude, there’s this parallel universe thing going on. Great material you can work with, on the local front. I have an idea you might be interested in. What if…okay, I know this sounds fantastical – but work with me here – what if we connect this parallel universe with your pad down stairs? Call me, P. x

Satan. He puts up with more than I am willing to.

The only jaw movement will be me hustling my way right out of death row. My best friends in the world are those tight-lipped guard types. You may see me share with them a slab of Lindt milk chocolate with salt sprinkles, though.

I built Satan a highway.

Designing the highway to hell. Trigonometry never really was my strength.

My bridge not collapsing before Thuma Mina gets his groove on while we gaze upon the chimes of freedom flashing.

Thuma Mina – he’s using up the last strand of patience I had left after Zupta gigglingly danced on my nerves for the past ten years.

No stop signs, no speed limit; nobody’s gonna slow me down.

I’ve used lyrics from 8 songs in this questionnaire, and you haven’t spotted them all. It’s okay. You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you may find you get what you need.