can gets up and refills his glass with brandy.

CAN: All I want is an opportunity to sit down face to face with Prime Minister JG Strijdom over a glass of brandy and talk to him man to man. Cheers! [can raises his glass to the audience.]

I know he is supposed to be the ‘lion of the north’, but there must be a human being somewhere in the crevices of his troubled soul. It may very well be that after the umpteenth drink, he might start reasoning like a human. We all have it in ourselves. All you need is just a little inspiration, and the true you emerges from beneath the mask that you put on every day.

As a matter of fact, I’m writing a little poem for Strijdom and his cohorts. The trouble is, I’ve started from the end. I have the last two stanzas, I’m not sure how it's gonna start. My brain functions that way sometimes. Do you wanna hear the poem? What did I do with that notebook? [can looks around his desk.] Here it is. I call it ‘They Counsel’.

And if the price be the blood-drops

Of my loved ones – so let it be

Is it not blood that buys freedom

For all those who dare to be free?

They counsel smugly from pulpits

Joy to seek after my last breath.

Hell, they ought to counsel themselves

‘In the midst of life we’re in death.’

What do you think? Wait, wait, wait! I know it doesn't make much sense at the moment. I have something that will interest you, though. It's a letter from the Department. It's been sitting here for days now. For some reason I lack the inclination to open it. Quite frankly, waiting in anticipation of letters has drained the last drop of energy out of me. I am losing zest for life. I am getting numb. I will soon run out of feelings altogether.