Chatting in the car...

Video footage of a traffic cop assaulting a taxi driver, pepper spraying him in the face and kicking him around emerged today, so off I zooted to Metro Cop Headquarters. I was stoked when my mate Jeans-and-Tackies was assigned to go with me - we had done the last big metro cop announcement together so we knew the place and where we were headed. Last time she drove our car into the wall, so I decided to drive this time.
We were given one of the stone-age bottom-of-the-range cars that we generally get to use when covering riots in Alex and stuff like that - I think the guy in charge of the cars knows Jeans-and-Tackies tendency to not brake quite quick enough before smacking into solid objects. We turned down the African choral music blaring from the tape player (I was not exaggerating when I described this collection of dents on wheels as old!) and launched into good old chit chat.
Jozi Journo: So yesterday when I went out to cover the buses on the bridge drama I met a Zimbabwean taxi driver called Two Minutes.
J-a-T: Two Minutes? His real name was Two Minutes:
JJ: Serious. His name was actually Two Minutes.
J-a-T: Yo yo yo! His mother must have given birth in two minutes or something like that. Eish - some of these Zimbabweans have funny names hey! I have met a guy called Conference. And then there was this one beautiful girl. I mean really, really beautiful. And what was her name? Daylight! Can you imagine? Daylight.
J J: Ja, well a few years ago I was helping sort out entries people had mailed in to one or other competition. And there was one entry from a dude called Duplicate. Why would someone name a child Duplicate?
J-a-T: Well a few years ago I had this job at a company dealing with pensions. I used to take pictures of the old people and write their stories up for a little publication. So one day there was this really, really old grandfather who came in with his ID. So I thought there was a mistake because I could not believe his name, so I asked for his birth certificate and it was true - no mistakes. His name was Flying Squad.
JJ: No ways! How can a geriatric be called Flying Squad?
J-a-T: For sure man. So then I saw his little grandson and I asked him, what is your grandfather's name. And he says 'My grandfather? He is Flying Squad.'" Now we have this new soccer player who called his kid Cellular. But for sure, my favourite is Flying Squad. And now Two Minutes. That's also the best!