The Return of the Zulu Guy

S'busiso drives into a service station in his battered bakkie, clad in shorts, all stars (that come up to the knees), funky beard and i -sporty. He hands the coloured attendant the keys complete with a beautiful Tupac key ring.

Sbu: "Gcwalisa mfethu, i-Super"
Attendant: "How much?"

Sbu: Hayi bo, ngithe gcwalisa mos."

Attendant: "I only speak English!"

Sbu: "No problem. Good day to you Sir. I currently feel a profound desire to replenish the propellant of my motorised vehicle. Therefore, I cordially request you to transfer, from your subterranean reservoir, a sufficient quantity of the combustible fluid of the highest octane rating to fill the appropriate receptacle of the said means of perambulation to the brim."

Attendant: "Hau?"

Sbu: "Do you have a problem Sir? I thought you said you speak English?"

Attendant: "English that is not English!"

Sbu: "My dear Sir, are you veritably attempting to insinuate that you do not even recognise the language which you allege to be your singular means of communication?"

Attendant: "Hau?"

Sbu: "Let me attempt to elucidate in the most elementary terms; your paltry grasp of English vernacular is frittering away the time at my disposal or as I would put it in a civilised intelligible language, ungazong' jwayela wena msundulo, uthi ufrostana i-English kuphela,mara ungimoshela is'khathi sami, awuzwa FOKOL. Gcwalisa lapho wena mhlathi wakho! Uyangifrostana?"

Attendant: "Yh! Yh! Yah! Yah mfethu. ngigcwalise neh? Ngiyakuzwa"

Sbu: "Sho!"