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by Toast Coetzer

48 hours in the Klein Karoo, Oudtshoorn, the most happening festival in the country since the Koedoe-drolspoeg competition at the Bosveldfees in Ellisras. 4 people, 4 presspasses, 5 bottles of Tas, 5 girls in red, 2 guys from the telly.

It's Hama from Brasse Vannie Kaap, he's sharing theories of first world demise with me, we're talking the implementation of the Happy Brown People Project (in brief: screw person of other colour, breed, end racism in 200 years) and how all the whiteys will die out, it's in their blood, they don't breed well: "It's the party generation, they always fuck everything up." And this, this is the party generation. Earlier that afternoon I distributed copies of the HBP Project at a Koos Kombuis book signing to some of his devoted fans - Tas t-shirt wearing Maties. They read it, look at me like I'm from fucking Iceland: "Nee wat ou pel, gaan try hierdie plan op 'n ander plek." Throw the fucking plan away, fair enough (you are free to paint Table Mountain pink as far as I'm concerned). They've obviously never understood Koos's song about how we're all non-believers anyway (that'd be "kaffir" in some twisted form of Arabic).

Boo! is on stage. Frontman Chameleon is electricity in a dress. Placebo wish they invented this. BVK makes hiphop hipper than the Wu ever will, it now is for the people. Ready D drops the mix like a white mouse swallowed in a whirl of cream. Valiant Swart rides the black horse of redemption right past the campfire of Piet Botha, Liela Groenewald should be on our car tape, which spins Macy Gray till we die. The five bottles of Tas became seven without us buying more, Jesus is around, his name I can't remember (walk on water, don't sink).

It's Johan Botha and Johan Rossouw, two guys who are somewhere between Kyk-Net and 50/50 presenters and Radio Sonder Grense jocks. They are drunk, so are we, it's the Rock Art (funny, hey?) at 04:00 on day two. Rossouw knows: "I give this festival two years and people will be fucking (he said 'naai', ok) in the streets." We're interviewing girls wearing red and asking them why they wear red and why they wear it where they do. We also survey boys about whether they dig boob-tubes. One girl wears a Buddha t-shirt and explains: "Buddha is cool - it's that mean expression."

Botha's got it: "Edgars is the Naspers of clothing stores."

Rossouw is defending himself: "Don't give me kak, I'm on TV."

Some guy solves the red dress issue: "If she wears red below, well, if you can't (score her), you're stupid. But if she wears a red top, she wants to, but she can't." It's unfortunate. 06:00, bed.

The car tape is tuning "are you one of the beautiful people", the road winds down the Langkloof, the view is to keep, the cellphone's saying 'Weather 40', return the smile in the car mirror, pull in at Jefferies for coffee with a mate. It starts pissing down.