A Question of Trust

A question of trust

The insurance grudge

A recent article depicting insurance as one of the least trusted industries prompted me to write an article for Risk SA a few years ago. In the event that you think it’s worth circulating there is a link to that PDF version at the bottom of the page.

The article on the most (and least) trusted professions in South Africa was originally written by a fellow called Quinton Bronkhorst for Business Tech. I can only assume he had to wade through tons of mind-numbing figures before getting to the table below, which I think you’ll agree is quite distressing if you’re in journalism, law enforcement, insurance or politics.

The original report was produced by global market research company, GFK. I always take these global studies with a pinch of salt because the samples used to derive the information are often relatively small, particularly once you drill down into the South African specifics. In this particular instance, 28 000 people were interviewed around the world. The number included 1194 South African respondents.

The numbers in the table indicate that of the total number of people interviewed, a specific percentage trusts the specific profession. This means effectively that out of 1194 South Africans, 95 per cent said they trust doctors compared to only 43 per cent who trust politicians. It seems likely that 43 per cent of the respondents were politicians. Incidentally, if one benchmarks SA against other countries – politicians, on average, have a trust level of 31 per cent. We are more trusting of our elected officials. I guess that is borne out of our recent election results where a slew of corruption charges against some individuals appear to be less concerning to the populace than the dress code in parliament.

Also worth noting is that 5% of the respondents don’t trust anyone.

As an insurance professional, I took serious umbrage to the notion that we only scored 57%, especially when one looks at the overall context, even cab drivers, whom I assume are actually mini-bus taxi drivers, scored higher than the insurance industry. For goodness sake, even South African policemen fared better than insurance agents. .

 It would be far too easy for us to dismiss the insurance numbers by simply sticking the whole industry into the grudge purchase box. However, I don’t believe the nature of the product or service has anything to do with trust. In fact, if trust were inextricably linked to the nature of the service, even doctors would find their score slipping to the bottom of the table. Not too many people enjoy a visit to the doctor, unless you are a hypochondriac or a medical sales rep.

If the negative perception is not related to the nature of the service then perhaps it is related to the dreaded claims rejection? Shortly after I read the Trusted Professions report, I noted that the Ombud for the short-term insurance industry had also published some figures. The Ombud is a free resource for consumers who feel their claims have been unfairly rejected. In 2013, he received just under 10,000 complaints. This is a pretty big number but the reality is that out of almost 2.7m claims, less than 0.4% resulted in a dispute with the consumer.

So if the grudge purchase factor and claims payments are not the cause of our risky reputation, what remains?

Some years ago, I was privileged to attend a presentation delivered by market leader, Peter Todd. In his presentation he spoke of insurance professionals having a noble purpose. The word noble or nobility, generally conjures up all sorts of regal, even saintly imagery. This struck me as strange as many of the professionals I had worked with in the industry over the years knew the risk transfer business inside out, but didn’t exactly fit the knightly bill.

Knights of the Rating Table

Todd’s reference to our noble purpose had quite an impact on me. Attention had been thrown on the fact that much of the negative perception in our industry is self-perpetuating, partly through the way some insurers market their services but largely due to the way the individuals in the industry carry the message.

There isn’t a great deal we can do to halt the commoditisation of insurance products and I guess to some extent, buying insurance will always largely be about the premium. I do however believe there is something we can do about the way we carry our noble purpose message every day.

 I’ve worked in a big insurance company, a few global reinsurance companies, a couple of Underwriting Agencies and more recently, in a local brokerage, and I noted a few things that many of these firms had in common:

    • Most of the older staff had not made a conscious choice to be in insurance. They had fallen into the industry. Many would even joke that they’d been sentenced to life but commuted to short-term.
    • Often these businesses struggled to attract and retain younger talent. Graduates with some insurance experience were in high demand due to their scarcity. Many actually left the industry after gaining some work experience.
    • Generally, a high percentage of the staff (particularly in the bigger companies) had a negative perception of insurance themselves. It was not uncommon for brokers to blame insurers in front of clients when a claims problem arose and it was not unusual for insurers to dismiss brokers as perpetual moaners when policy issues arose.

The talk made me think about how I perceive the industry that I’ve earned a good living out of over the past 23 years. It also made me think of the enormous impact the industry had on my kidneys and liver for the first 10 years, but that is a bleary-eyed, dialysis infused story for another time.

I was transported back in time to the moment I started in insurance. I recalled being almost immediately embarrassed by my chosen profession. I discovered in my early 20’s, at a very impressionable age for a young underwriter, that insurance was not as sexy as depicted in the brochure. In fact I remember concocting a joke that elicited much mirth at insurance functions. I’d introduce myself as an underwriter, then I would quickly qualify that an underwriter was like an undertaker. The only difference being that an undertaker had clients that were livelier. This joke, it transpired, was not very funny to non-insurance people, or to undertakers. My colleague, Ed Jordan recently shared a story with me that I believe to be more apt. Upon arrival at a retirement home to deliver a load of baked goods (a charitable initiative of SHAs), he was confronted by an old fellow who commented on the use of the word underwriter on the side of our team van. “Is that like an undertaker?” muttered the old boy. “Similar, but we take care of you whilst you’re alive” responded Ed.

Unfortunately it would appear that this vocational embarrassment is not unique, and still exists in today’s insurance industry. Some would argue that the sector is filled with brilliant products that no one really wants to buy, sold by people that don’t really want to sell them. Not only a grudge purchase but a grudge sale too. Somewhat of a miracle then, that the combined short and long-term industries produce almost 20% of the country’s GDP and employ over 100,000 people.

The 2013 KPMG report draws attention to how the insurance industry is trying to clean up its image. R2.1 bn in fire and hail claims were paid in the last quarter of 2012 alone. Without that valuable service many people would have lost their homes, cars and even their jobs. If one adds to that the number of families that benefited from life policies (R6.8 bn across the whole year) it becomes apparent that society would actually grind to a screeching halt without the risk transfer industry.

The KPMG report is extremely comprehensive but I very much doubt that the majority of people employed in the insurance industry even know of its existence, let alone read it. So if we as an industry don’t know about the impact of our noble purpose, how can we expect this from the begrudged buyers?

A political party recently used the phrase ‘A good story to tell’ in its 2014 election campaign. The insurance industry is filled with ‘great stories to tell’ but if we don’t tell them no one else will. We will be doomed to hover around the bottom of the Trusted Professions list, saved only from last place in morbid hope that our politicians will continue to disappoint the electorate.

I’m the Liability Guy.

References: 

SA’s Trusted Professions

Ombudsmans report

KPMG Insurance Report  

Risk SA Article

Stupidity insurance

Stupidity insurance

Why your business needs it

People do stupid things all the time so why shouldn’t you be able to get insurance for that? Or maybe you can? Read on to find out if you need Stupidity Cover today.

Thank you to everyone that read my last blog. The response from brokers who are interested in liability has been quite amazing. I thank you for that. All 5 of you. So now that we all understand what a liability is and who the mysterious third party is, lets get real here. Let’s just tell it like it is; liability cover in many ways is just human stupidity insurance. Nine times out of ten, either someone has done something stupid in the business, which leads to a customer getting injured or the customer has done something stupid which leads to them suffering some kind of harm. Its a circle of idiocy.

Many product liability claims stem from a moment of sheer Darwinian brilliance where a consumer imagines that they have found a better way to use a product other than that specified by the manufacturer. Take for example the genius in this video clip:

 

A drill should not be used to eat a mielie (that’s corn on the cob if you’re reading this outside SA). Nothing is foolproof, because the fool is extremely inventive. Without the fool we would have far less content on Youtube, the social media platform built upon the broken bodies of individuals who push the boundaries of stupidity, for our entertainment every day.

In SA, like many territories around the world, we have some pretty robust consumer protection legislation. This means we are protected, often even when we’re being stupid. The Consumer Protection Act places a big responsibility on manufacturers and many others in the supply chain to ensure that the instructions and warnings on products are clear. See this article on the subject.

Fortunately most product liability insurance policies do recognize that the label is a part of the product, so if the injury happens as a result of poor labeling, the claim should still be covered. There is of course an onus on the supplier – don’t you love the word “onus“? Sounds so…anatomical. If you don’t observe the onus, you could soon see your anus. I’m the master of lavatorial digression, please forgive me.

As I was saying, there is an onus on the supplier to comply with local legislation when putting the product into the Republic of South Africa. Businesses that are importing stuff from say, China, shouldn’t assume that their insurers will pick up the tab every time someone chokes on a squidgy because the label was in Mandarin. Mandarin is a language spoken in China to those of you less travelled. It is also a type of fruit. Labels cannot be in Chinese or Fruitese in South Africa.

So obviously warnings and instructions need to be in a language people understand in that territory. SA businesses do not produce manuals in all eleven languages. I remember buying a TV set once and after removing the set from the box, discovering an operating manual the size of a phone book. The book weighed almost as much as the TV and just before I panicked and handed it to my teenage son for interpretation, I realized that the instructions in English only made up about 5 pages. The balance of the tome was in a language from almost every country in the world. To be honest, I may as well have read the Greek section.

I really love this bit in our CPA. The part that tells you about plain language reads:

“For the purposes of this Act, a notice, document or visual representation is in plain language if it is reasonable to conclude that an ordinary consumer of the class of persons for whom the notice, document or visual representation is intended, with average literacy skills and minimal experience as a consumer of the relevant goods or services, could be expected to understand the content, significance, and import of the document without undue effort, having regard to:
– The context, comprehensiveness and consistency of the notice, document or visual representation;
– The organisation, form and style of the notice, document or visual representation;
– The vocabulary, usage and sentence structure of the notice, document or visual representation; and
– The use of any illustrations, examples, headings, or other aids to reading and understanding.”

Plain and simple right?

The bottom line is that businesses have to assume that their customers are going to do something stupid and should factor that into the instructions and warnings. They also need to spend time thinking about the way in which the information will be presented. 11 official languages in SA do present a logistical problem but as the CPA suggests, diagrams are a useful alternative to text. That is why some businesses have cleverly done away with wordy labels and instructions and have instead opted for pictures. Nowhere is this more evident than in the air travel business. Airlines have to contend with a whole host of language problems so they very effectively use pictures to get their message across clearly:

Keep it plain and simple. I’m the LiabilityGuy.

Note that as I am the LiabilityGuy I have to include a suitable disclaimer so please don’t treat any of these blogs as legal or financial advice. Be sure to chat to your broker if you’re a policyholder or if you’re a broker yourself, chat to your favourite insurance underwriter (follow my eyes) to get some detailed training or product information. The opinions expressed here are all my own, written in my personal capacity.

Sentenced to a life in prism

Sentenced to life in prism

The world through four eyes

I’ve been a contact lenses wearer for about 35 years now. Practically a lifetime of living with little discs of silicone hydrogel attached to my eyeballs. Needless to say, they’ve been life-changing and have allowed me to do all sorts of things that I couldn’t do when I wore glasses – like getting my first girlfriend when I was 15. You see I grew up in an era when glasses weren’t cool, especially when they looked like this:

LiabilityGuy aged 14.

As you can see they took up at least 1/3 of my tiny, teenage face. Given that my eyesight sits at minus 6.5, the glass had to be relatively thick and heavy, so much so that I had to wear bigger shoes to counterbalance the earths gravitational pull, which was determined to drag my face into the ground.

For those readers who have 2020 vision (nothing to do with the year of the great plague), to experience minus 6.5 vision you have to rub Vaseline into your eyeballs, drink a bottle of gin and open your eyes underwater. I always fancied a nickname at school. Something like “stud” or “killer” but these amazing eyeglasses earned me the moniker “goggles”. I realise now why they are called spectacles, as that is indeed what I was.

A future so bright

My mom (rest her soul) thought it’d be useful if the lenses darkened in the daylight. Having emigrated from Newcastle Upon Tyne in the UK some years before, sunlight was somewhat of a novelty to be both embraced and feared. This little piece of optometric wizardry did wonders as the sunglass effect only made my optical aids more pronounced. You can see that polarizing effect in the photo above. This had the impact of making me look a bit like Puck from Maya the Bee (a popular kids tv show in the eighties). Also good for girlfriend acquisition.

Puck the Fly

Meet the optometrist

You may be wondering where this is going? The contact lenses (this time a genuinely great suggestion from my mom) not only saved me from a life of celibacy but also helped me establish a lifelong relationship with the optometric industry. I viewed these professionals as ocular messiahs, capable of raising even the most awkward of individuals out of social death.

Earlier this week I decided to change optometrists. My old one was pretty good but I felt that having just turned 50, a fresh pair of eyes was needed, so to speak. It had been a while since I had the full barrage of tests and assessments, and I was amazed at how much technology filled the small consulting room. I was pleased with this and looked forward to not having any of the antiquated, uncomfortable periscope equipment wrapped around my head whilst I pretended to be able to see the letters on the wall. Isn’t it strange how when one is faced with an eye test, one feels an incredible urge to squint, strain and wildly guess at the letters to pass the test even if it comes at the expense of landing up with the wrong prescription.

A life sentence

In my case I think this stemmed back to that fateful day at school in Grade 4 when the government appointed optometrist came around and tested everyone’s eyesight. It was of course that pivotal test failure that led to the commencement of Puck Goggles Colman’s six-year prism sentence (see what I did there?).

Unfortunately, despite the tech-packed lab in my new optometrists office, I still landed up with the steampunk equipment on my face. It appears that this remains the go-to for eye specialists, which seems odd especially given that my current practitioner looked decidedly millennial. I guess I was hoping for some science-laden beam of light that would shine through my eyes and immediately figure out what I needed to live a normal life. One without eventually having to train our French Bulldogs as guides. If you own one of these hounds you will also know that they are lovable, snoring, fart-bombers with terrible eyesight of their own. All three of us would be dead at the first traffic light.

Archie and Dot – not guide dogs.

Spot the difference

I tolerated the uncomfortable Mad Max binoculars for what seemed like hours whilst we both played a game of spot the difference. If you’ve been for a professional eye test recently (not one at the licensing department of despair) then you too will have played the game. You are presented, one-at-a-time, with approximately three million lenses all mysteriously, repetitively numbered from 1 to 6 and must spot the undetectable differences between them. Failure to do this means your prescription will be wrong and you’ll spend thousands on the wrong spectacles or contact lenses. This I believe is what happened to me the last time I got my eyes tested. Rather than admit that I flubbed the expensive game, I ended up wearing a prescription for years that I’m sure was perfect… for someone else.

The outcome of this week’s game was somewhat fruitful. I have been told that I need multifocal lenses given my advanced age of 50. Yes, contact lenses do come in a multifocal version although the costs are decidedly eye-watering. I’ll be experimenting with these in the hope that I gain twenty-twenty in 2022.

See you soon. I’m the LiabilityGuy.

Stand and Deliver

Stand and deliver

The true cost of fast food delivery services

Before I begin let me start by saying:

    • I’m a huge fan of technology and an even bigger fan of the companies that are driving Industrial Revolution 4.0.
    • I intended initially to look only into UberEats, as that’s the service I’ve used most frequently but after commencing with my research I felt it only fair to compare the prices with Mr D (aka “Mr Delivery” to those of you older than 25). 
    • I don’t begrudge any company making a profit for great service delivery through technology but I am a strong proponent of transparency. Digital transformation gives businesses a great ability to be open with their customers.
    • I work in the insurance industry in South Africa which is heavily regulated with a major focus on Treating Customers Fairly (TCF). This has shaped my thinking about transparency, service delivery and disclosure of information to consumers.

Uber changed our lives

Uber conducts business in a way where one can only marvel at the digital transformation driven into the taxi industry. Uber’s ride hailing app is easy to use, safe, reliable and works in just about every major city in South Africa and indeed, across the globe.  My wife and I both commute between Johannesburg and Cape Town almost every week and without Uber, our lives would have been much more complicated and expensive. Another factor in Uber’s favour is the cost. It’s generally cheaper to take an Uber than to take a metered taxi as was revealed in the BusinessTech report published in 2017.

 

BusinessTech report dated 26 July 2017. https://businesstech.co.za/news/motoring/187531/uber-vs-metred-taxi-prices-in-south-africa/

The fastest food…

I’ve literally taken hundreds of trips every year with Uber since they started trading in SA. Off the back of this long-standing relationship, when UberEats launched in SA in September 2016, I was very keen to give them a whirl. The whole model just made a lot of sense, using the drivers who weren’t too busy to do deliveries of fast food and using the kick-ass Uber technology to facilitate the transaction. What a win! Admittedly I was a little slow out of the starting blocks and the first time I used the app was actually not in SA but in Paris. Christelle and I had just finished the Paris Marathon and our need for carbo-bomb-infused junk food trumped our ability to walk the streets to seek it out. I downloaded the app and had ordered pizza and drinks within just a few seconds. The user experience was very smooth, much like I expected from Uber. And so my trusting relationship with Uber continued.

For me, when using any sort of delivery or courier service there are only two factors that are important; cost and delivery time. I already knew that Uber have an awesome track record on the time element so the remaining factor was that of the cost. As soon as you are ready to order through the app you are told what the cost of the delivery will be. This may vary depending on the distance but given that the app only displays restaurants that are close by, the cost is around R10,00. That is for most people, a very reasonable delivery charge. On the surface, UberEats deliver a great service at a very low delivery cost. In my blended family there are six of us and we are privileged enough to have more than one Uber account between us. This means that controlling the expenses each month is paramount and everyone has to make sure they don’t blow the collective budget. It was in this monitoring of costs that I started to notice something strange when using the app.

So is it more expensive?

My daughter recently took a part-time job in a restaurant. I had ordered food via UberEats from that particular restaurant recently and I commented on how expensive the meal was. She looked puzzled as she took a copy of the menu out of her purse. The cost of the very same meal was around 25% higher in the Uber Eats app. I have since discovered that some of the food prices on the app are between 20% and 30% higher than they are in the restaurants themselves. This is however not consistent amongst the various eateries. I conducted research on Colcacchio, Nandos, Steers and Simply Asia as they are all in the area closest to me. The results appear below. In summary, two of the four brands charge the same on the delivery apps as they do in their restaurants.

 

Col’Cacchio do not offer their own delivery service but the difference in the costs was quite substantial between the delivery service providers and the restaurant’s own menu

 

Nando’s pricing was consistent regardless of how it was ordered.
Delivery was “free” from Mr D.

 

The pricing from Steers was also consistent regardless of where the order was placed. Uber charged the lowest “delivery fee”

 

Much like Col’cacchio, the prices from the delivery service providers were inflated. There did not appear to be delivery option directly from Simply Asia although calling them directly would mean roughly 20% discount.

But who is controlling the prices?

According to an article in Forbes Magazine entitled “Why Uber Eats will eat you into bankruptcy” the restaurants pay about 30% to have their products listed in the app. Interestingly the article goes on to say that Uber doesn’t allow restaurants to up their prices to cover this.

Uber Eats charges a restaurant 30% of their listed prices for the privilege of delivering their food. For example, Bob’s Deli charges $10 for a burger. Uber Eats would take $3 dollars as a fee for delivering their food. Also, Uber Eats does not permit restaurants to increase their prices to “cover” Uber’s cost.

Cameron Keng (Forbes 26 March 2018)

This does not appear to be the case in SA as is evident from the examples above. In fact in SA, it appears that the restaurants have discretion as to how these platform fees will be levied. Remember this isn’t just about UberEats, Mr D charges the same prices. That would indicate that the prices are indeed being set by the restaurants and not by the service providers.

I confirmed this with UberEats, using their chat facility:

Is there a duty to disclose the other fees and charges?

I met with a friend who is a consumer lawyer in the food industry to discuss whether or not there is a duty to disclose these hidden charges to the public. The Consumer Protection Act in SA is the primary piece of legislation that governs the relationship between businesses and consumers. Section 27 of the Act deals with Intermediaries. This section would appear to apply to the food delivery services in question. There are a number of regulations (Regulation 9) pertaining to the information that must be disclosed by an intermediary. Of particular interest are these two points:
“An intermediary must in the manner and form of delivery agreed to with the consumer –
(i) disclose any information, at any relevant time, which may be relevant to the consumer when deciding whether to acquire the service rendered by the intermediary, or whether to continue with an existing service;
(j) disclose commission, consideration fees, charges or brokerages payable to the intermediary by any other person;”

Are these other charges disclosed?

The T's and C's are difficult to find on both Mr D and UberEats websites/apps. There is also no mention of any other fees that the service providers charge.
The T’s and C’s are difficult to find on both Mr D and UberEats websites/apps. There is also no mention of any other fees that the service providers charge.

 

The short answer is no, they aren’t. In fact the part of this exercise that is particularly concerning to me as a consumer is that there is a delivery charge that is disclosed when you check out and pay in the apps. This led me to believe that that was the only charge being levied.

If you had ordered three gourmet pizza’s from Col’cacchio using Uber or Mr D, you would have in fact paid just over R100 on a R500 bill for delivery.

I posted something on social media last week when I started looking into this to gauge the response from consumers. A few things became evident from the responses:

    • Most people did not appear to know about any other charges being levied other than the “delivery fees”. They were not happy with this. If the delivery fee itself was not mentioned, people probably wouldn’t have minded the loading
    • Some people (particularly those in the tech industry) did not see anything wrong with the service providers charging an additional fee for the delivery although many agreed that more disclosure would have been better. Tech lends itself to greater disclosure in fact
    • Some responses indicated that Uber and Mr D were entitled to charge whatever they like and were not obliged to disclose their fees any more than the local retailer has to disclose their cost of sales to customers. The difference is that the platforms are intermediaries and not retailers or manufacturers – they do not buy the stock and resell it.
    • Some comments simply reflected the view that, if you don’t like the prices on the platforms, get off your ass and go to the restaurant. That is true, but if you don’t know the pricing difference how can you decide whether to move your ass off the couch?

So what’s the verdict?

As consumers we can decide who gets our hard earned cash based on whether the convenience and efficiency of a service provider justifies the additional expense. Of course one would need to have all the facts to be able to make an informed decision. On the current basis, the customer has to first Google the restaurant and then compare the price on the app.

There is no consistency as to how the hidden charges are levied so the consumer never knows which prices have been inflated to cover the platform costs.

Is the service provided by UberEats or Mr D worth the extra charge? In my opinion it probably is but then why not simply advise the consumer during the ordering process that the prices for specific restaurants have been inflated? I think most of us agree that a delivery charge of R10,00 to R15,00 isn’t sufficient to cover actual delivery costs. To charge a heavy delivery fee on 3 items going to the same address also does not sit right with me personally. Technology allows for much greater interaction with customers, creating several touch points where critical information can be shared. That surely creates a more sustainable business model. Or do we have to wait for the disruptors to be disrupted first?

To charge a heavy delivery fee on 3 items going to the same address does not sit right…

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I’m the LiabilityGuy please feel free to comment or share your thoughts on this issue.

Driving blindfolded

Driving Blindfolded

and other mysteries of the mind

Are you a nervous passenger? Would you drive with someone who clearly couldn’t see the road ahead? I have two children who have been driving for a short time so I have learned to steel myself against automotive anxiety without gouging my fingers into the dashboard. Yesterday, however, I was pushed to new limits. My good friend, Larry Soffer, is a mentalist and he wanted to drive his new BMW…blindfolded.

I’ve been mates with Larry for a while now. My wife, Christelle, introduced us at a corporate event she was hosting almost seven years ago. She figured we’d probably have a lot to chat about because he’s a performer of mentalism and I’m an underwriter. Now on the surface that may seem like a complete paradox of job specs but actually insurance folk and mentalists are very similar. We both make money out of predicting the future, or at least thats what we try to do. Larry is just better at it than most.

The reason she brought us together really had nothing to do with insurance. You see I’ve been an amateur mentalist for about 20 years. Yes, that’s a long time to be an amateur at anything but the reality is that at some point in life, hard choices have to be made – you have to ask if are you going to amaze people with your unbelievable intellect and profound abilities, causing women to swoon and men to puff out their chests defensively, as you enter the room, or are you going to be a mentalist. Yes insurance is all of those things but this blog isn’t actually about the world of risk management, it’s pretty much about the opposite.

With my lovely wife out of town, you’d think I’d be out drinking with the boys at Mavericks in Cape Town but that’s not how we practitioners of psychic prestidigitation roll. Larry came over to help me with my metal bending abilities and in return I said I’d take a drive as a passenger in his new car while he practiced driving without being able to see – just a very ordinary Saturday afternoon you might think?

Bending spoons was made famous by an Israeli fellow called Uri Geller in the 1970’s when the whole world was a bit mental. He’d been stopping clocks with his mind and bending forks and keys for years. Branded as a true psychic, then a charlatan and finally as a brilliant entertainer, the guy really led an interesting life. I recommend you read up on him if you don’t know who he is.

I’d been messing about with metal bending for a while in my teens although it was only when I met up with Larry that I saw the real entertainment factor in it. So after spending the day spooning with Larry (????), we decided to try something a little more challenging, even dangerous. I’d heard of psychic performers doing a blindfold drive before but I’ve never actually seen it done. The technique basically works on the remote-viewing premise. Remote-viewing was conceptualised in a US government experiment in the 1990’s, known as the Stargate Project and involved using psychics to see things from great distances, or as would be the case in our adventure, to see through the eyes of another. I can’t do remote-viewing but I can see you shaking your head right now – has the LiabilityGuy lost his mind? I can’t tell you to believe any of this stuff, just think of it as entertainment if that’s most acceptable to you. What I can tell you is that I took a trip in a car, with a blindfolded driver and after giving him a few prompts at the outset, he drove the car as if he had 20/20 vision. I won’t lie, I was terrified but it really is remarkable.

Larry will be performing this live at the Killarney racetrack, at higher speed on the 22nd of September 2018 in Cape Town. Check it out.

The most disgusting thing you’ll ever eat

The most disgusting thing

You’ll never eat

When I travel to a foreign country, I like to sample the local dishes but whilst we were in Paris and Rome earlier this month, something happened to me that made me question my adventurous nature and the way in which Google and Wikipedia conspire against unsuspecting travellers. This blog was written the night after this life-changing event…

“Last night Christelle and I visited this quaint little bistro outside our apartment in Paris. To put things in context, we’d spent the entire morning in transit from Rome, then walked about 16km exploring the city, as one does when one is living in an actual postcard world. Earlier that day, at lunch time in fact, we had this incredible vegan meal (I see you raise an eyebrow, vegan? LiabilityGuy? Never). But yes, I actually ate a vegan burger from this place called Hanks and it was so good. I’ll definitely have another if given the opportunity.

But I have to say that being raised in South Africa and not having consumed meat with my mid day meal, left me feeling, well lets just say a little unpatriotic. So last night we stopped in at the bistro down the road from our apartment. I was pretty hungry and didn’t fancy the usual array of French nouvelle cuisine. That’s when this dish caught my eye; a local delicacy called andouillette. It’s pronounced Andoo-yett apparently. I spotted it on the menu and did a quick wiki search. I didn’t open the full wiki page on my phone so this is what I saw:

“Andouillette is a coarse-grained sausage made with pork, intestines or chitterlings, pepper, wine, onions, and seasonings.” Admittedly I should’ve been a bit grossed out by the intestines bit, and I had no idea what chitterlings are but they sounded cute. I also thought “aren’t all sausages encased in some sort of intestines?” So I ordered this traditional sausage. 

Christelle and I engaged in some holiday chatter while we waited. We’d really been having the best time and not a single bad meal. Until now.
Let’s just say the sausage announced its arrival by a peculiar aroma not dissimilar to that of a dead, rancid wild boar’s butthole. Not that I’ve been that close to a pigs ass, except this one time when I visited parliament on a school tour but that’s a story for another time.

In any event this freaking sausage arrives with string on both ends. You know to hold all the goodies in. And by goodies I mean intestinal stuff and get this, it’s actually the colon. No not the punctuation mark, the part of a creature that processes actual crap. The smell emanating from this dish was so disturbing I was transported back to my school days and was reminded of how when your mom had packed you an egg sandwich, you felt obliged to tell everyone that you had an egg sandwich so they didn’t think you farted when you opened it.  I almost apologised on the spot to everyone in the restaurant in the hope that they didn’t mistakenly think I’d had shit my own pants. My inability to articulate this in French, held me back. As well as a strong gag reflex.

So I’m sitting at a tiny French table with my vegan wife and this 12 inch smelly sausage. (I’ll let you think about that image for a bit before I move on). Ok?

Being a die hard Anglo Saxon warrior there was no way I was not going to eat this thing. At 18 euros it had an appeal that almost surpassed my desire to throw it out the window and alert the authorities. Almost. Fortunately the pungent porky also came with chips and some lettuce with a weird dressing so I figured I’d be able to mask the flavor if it was as bad as the scent.

If you’re a human being you’ll know that much of what you taste is processed through your nasal passages, this being one of the reasons why you can’t taste your food when you have a blocked nose. As I dissected the beastly banger, the smell seemed stronger. And it was at this point that I noticed my wife holding her nose. I digress here to remind you, the reader of this tale of gastronomical woe, of the fact that my wife is a vegan. Her sensitivity to strange carnivorian scent cannot be over emphasised. I should also mention that the size of the average table in a Parisian bistro is just slightly larger than a postage stamp. She could not have gotten closer to this meal even if she had ordered it herself.

The smell definitely appeared to be getting worse as I cut into it. I contemplated sticking some fries up my nose to conclude my meal without gagging but instead opted to eat them the traditional way, hoping to use the dish they came in to cover the sausage, blocking some of the putrid aroma.

Fortunately this was not necessary as the waitress appeared and I indicated for her to remove the leftovers (1/2 of the sausage). We paid and left the restaurant. On the way home whilst being subjected to ridicule and disgust by my wife, I went back into Wikipedia and read the entire post which goes onto say, “True andouillette is rarely seen outside France and has a strong, distinctive odour related to its intestinal origins and components. Although sometimes repellent to the uninitiated, this aspect of andouillette is prized by its devotees.”

I’m the Liability Guy and I have just two pieces of advice:
1. If something tastes and smells like crap, it is quite possibly crap. Don’t eat it. Or you may die with actual crap in your mouth.
2. Wikipedia is not the lazy reader’s friend. If you don’t open the whole page you may land up in shit (or shit may land up in you).”