What I enjoy most about elections is waking up early, packing a cooler box of beer and a moonbag of amphetamines, and setting off to cast my ballot at as many polling stations as possible before being arrested.

I have a dozen or so fake IDs and six or seven disguises, one of which is a dolphin suit. It’s getting a bit frayed around the tail, but not enough to arouse suspicions at a voting station in one of the poorer areas. Maybe I’ll use that one in a fishing village. They’re accustomed to seeing all types demanding a say in this democracy lark.

I also have a T-Rex suit but in 2009 an electoral officer with the face of a Shetland pony told me that lizards weren’t allowed to participate in the process. If my arms hadn’t been so short, I would have shown her a process or two of my own.

I also like to dress as a madman, which really only entails putting on whatever I find strewn next to the bed, and implore people not to vote. Sometimes I fall to my knees, arms outstretched.

“Don’t do it!” I beg. “Go home! Save yourselves! It’s not too late!” If anyone makes eye contact, I waddle over on my knees, much like Oscar must have done stumping up and down furiously formulating his defence, and cling to their legs.

“It’s not worth it!” I cry. “No good can come of it! Think of the children!” Before being dragged away by agents of the state, I have on a number of occasions succeeded in persuading people to leave the line. Sometimes they run.

I don’t vote because queues make me psychotic and voting booths make me claustrophobic. And also because I believe governments have a malevolent influence on society and I refuse to be party to this filthy business.

Speaking of party, I have yet to see a complete list of who has made it on to the ballot. Not even a single volunteer has rung my doorbell to solicit my vote. In the last few days, I received three unsolicited smses. One was from Helen Zille trying to sell me Utopia, another was from St Elmo’s trying to sell me two large pizzas for the price of what I would imagine two large pizzas should cost, and the third was from a gentleman informing me that I had won the Lagos lottery. I’m more inclined to trust the Nigerian.

Voting in a de facto one-party democracy is about as effective as snorting rhino horn to upsize your willy, but if you insist on wasting a perfectly good public holiday by standing in line with a bunch of other sheeple, and you still haven’t made up your mind who to give your X to, let me give you a hand.

Actually, if you don’t know by now who it is you’re going to vote for, you shouldn’t be allowed to vote. You wouldn’t wander in to the tote on a whim and put a grand on number nine in the seventh race just because you like the sound of his name, would you? That’s just mad, that is. You need to study their track record. Check their pedigree. See if they have a handicap. Find out who’s holding the reins. It’s the same with racehorses.

Here, then, is a very brief guide to what you can expect to find on the ballot paper on Wednesday. I found the names on the IEC’s website. If you don’t see anything you fancy, take the Kasril option and vote for everyone. Or draw something. Preferably obscene. The ballot counters will appreciate it.

African Christian Democratic Party. Three members in parliament. Vote for them if you feel comfortable with a party that has the blood of Jesus Christ represented in its logo. Also if you want to see abortionists, gays and purveyors of pornography consigned to the flames of eternal damnation. No dancing, please.

African Independent Congress. Big in Matatiele. Part of their mission statement reads, “To enforce a fund-raising culture of society members for the supply of needed resources relevantly, including subsidisation of community service schemes by AIC membership politically deployed in representative capacity to paid government posts/ranks.” Rank outsider.

African National Congress. This election’s dark horse. In with a chance. Vote for them if you don’t pay tax, are a deployed cadre or rely on securing tenders for a living.

African People’s Convention. One seat in parliament. Slogan: The Alternative Voice. Good for Pan Africanists. Bad for white people.

AgangSA. A new party led by an old face. A merger with the official opposition was abandoned after their first kiss. A vote for Agang is a vote for Nathan Kirsh.

Al Jama-Ah. Vote for them if you want to see women banned from driving and shoplifters relieved of their hands. Not all their ideas are this good.

Azanian People’s Organisation. Supported by black intellectuals and academics. One seat in parliament. No inference intended.

Bushbuckridge Residents Association. Might appeal to voters who live in gated communities and enjoy attending body corporate meetings where there are actual bodies lying around. Bring your own sjambok.

Congress of the People. Leadership of the party depends on whichever high court judge is sitting. President-for-now, Mosiuoa Lekota, has offered to eat his hat if the party gets fewer than 1.3 million votes. Party insiders are attempting to source edible hats.

Democratic Alliance. Stands a good chance of winning the elections. In 2034. A natural home for relatively normal white people and well-spoken darkies who either jumped ship or were never invited aboard the government gravy boat in the first place.

Economic Freedom Fighters. A vote for the EFF puts you in line for a trip down the rabbit hole into a magical country where everyone gets a farm, mine and bank for free. Well, everyone except white people. They get to emigrate.

First Nation Liberation Alliance. Don’t pretend to be khoi. If you can’t find a rock painting with one of your ancestor’s names on it, go somewhere else.

Front Nasionaal/National Front. Established primarily to get Clive Derby-Lewis out of jail and into a slightly bigger and better-run facility called a volkstaat. Vote for them if you know the lyrics to Steve Hofmeyr’s music and believe that the earth is 6 000 years old.

Independent Civic Organisation of SA. The less said the better.

Inkatha Freedom Party. Full marks for never giving up. Led by the same man since 1856, the IFP appeals to Zulus who are more familiar with pangas than they are with tender documents. With 18 seats in parliament, their most popular member is Mario Ambrosini. He recently tabled a bill that, if passed, would make it compulsory for citizens over the age of 18 to smoke marijuana at least once a month.

Keep it Simple, Stupid. They have participated in three general elections, never getting more than 7 000 votes. They just won’t shut up. Needless to say, KISS is headed by a white woman.

Kingdom Governance Movement. Formed last year by an ex-ANC minister in the Eastern Cape … I’m sorry. I just can’t go on.

Minority Front. The party represents all minorities in South Africa, but more specifically the Indian community, especially those from KwaZulu-Natal (Durban in particular) but mostly people who live at 347 Florence Nightingale Drive, Chatsworth (the Rajbansi home).

National Freedom Party. The party is led by a Zulu woman, which means someone else’s mother has had to take her place tilling the soil. Bit selfish. Presumably well connected since she is still alive.

Pan Africanist Congress of Azania. Another one-seat wonder. Support faded once people began suspecting that Azania and Narnia were the same country.

Pan Africanist Movement. Never heard of them. That’s a good enough reason as any to vote for them.

Patriotic Alliance. Run by a former bank robber. Popular in the coloured community, especially among those who work in the informal sector selling drugs, guns and women.

Ubuntu Party. Out to destroy the evil banking sector. Headed, unbelievably, by a white man. Their manifesto makes sense. Vote for them. Or not. I don’t care.

United Christian Democratic Party. Founded by Lucas Mangope in 1997 … right, that’s enough.

United Congress. Formed by some dude who jumped off the Cope boat. No rational reason to vote for them unless you’re related or owe him money.

United Democratic Movement. Principled but dull.Should be able to run the country given the right drugs.

Manchester United. Lying seventh in the Premier League. More chance of winning the election than this year’s title.

Vryheidsfront Plus. Hahahahaha! What? No, I’m not laughing at you. I swear. Please put me down. You’re hurting me. I’m sorry, okay? I thought you were someone else.

Workers and Socialist Party. No explanation needed. And I’m not just saying that because it’s late and I’m giddy with excitement. Okay, giddy with beer.