People assume that the universe works in bewildering, mysterious ways... Nonsense. It does not. It’s really not that cryptic at all. Don’t believe me? Hear me out. Let us, for the sake of argument, imagine you unexpectedly find yourself—without so much as a warning—reincarnated as a ghastly gastropod. Yes, a slimy slug without even the decency of a shell to hide in. Just yesterday, life was grand. You were cheerfully cruising around in your cute little convertible, entirely free of care. You were blasting your dreadful taste in music at ear-splitting volume, cutting off octogenarians in wheelchairs, and expertly blocking two handicapped parking spaces at the same time because walking three extra feet to the store entrance simply wasn’t for you. You were casually flipping cigarette butts at babies in strollers and, for good measure, running over dog tails—because why not? You get the picture.
But then, out of nowhere, the 500-ton semi-truck you were tailgating for two solid miles—the one with the funny little biohazard sticker on the back—suddenly detonates. Just like that. A mushroom cloud. A nuclear-level blast that promptly pulverises you, your adorable convertible, and everything else within a tidy 50-mile radius.
You’d think this would be the part where you ascend to some celestial paradise, greeted by the soft singing of angels and all that fluffy nonsense.
Not so.
An opening excerpt from What Could Possibly Go Wrong? Chronicles of Chaos and Courage remains available here. The full book can be ordered here.
I’ve carried this American Express Platinum card for decades—more out of delusion than utility. It looks impressive, sure. Like a weaponized IQ test for consumer debt. It’s shiny, heavy, and utterly useless in 99% of the world. In Nairobi? It was greeted like an expired Blockbuster membership. The ATM laughed. Shopkeepers made the sign of the cross. The power grid begged for mercy.
Only Henry—managing director, saviour, and unlicensed demigod of Nairobi’s Amex office—looked at it like I’d just handed him the Holy Grail.
He held it aloft like Excalibur, nodded with divine solemnity, and said:
“With this card, sir, you could buy the Mona Lisa. Or the Death Star. But probably not lunch.”
One phone call later, Nairobi’s financial infrastructure collapsed around us.
Lights went out. ATMs short-circuited. And I… finally got cash.
Apparently, Henry wielded the power to bring the financial infrastructure of an entire city to its knees. Meanwhile, the unfortunate shopkeeper behind the ATM—who had now become collateral damage—sat helplessly in the dark behind his counter, no doubt wondering what he had done to offend the gods that day.
🧨 From the memoir What Could Possibly Go Wrong?
Dark humor. Real mayhem.
One platinum card to burn them all.
As a token of gratitude to Henry—the only man in Nairobi who didn’t treat my Amex like radioactive garbage—I gave him this print: a tusked diplomat in dust and shadow, captured by yours truly, Marcel Romdane.
No filters. No tranquillisers. Just 6000 kilos of “file a complaint and see what happens.”
This is not a postcard. It’s a threat wrapped in wrinkles and wisdom, the unofficial mascot of What Could Possibly Go Wrong?—a memoir so full of catastrophic judgment and elephant-sized miscalculations, it makes Heart of Darkness look like a wellness retreat.
Because when you're standing 15 feet from a walking tank with tusks that could core a Toyota, and all you’re holding is a camera and debt...
You either get the shot.
Or you become it.
📘 I READ THIS. I SURVIVED. I BOUGHT THE BOOK.
This chaos was just one chapter. Want the rest?🔥
Grab the pre-edition of “What Could Possibly Go Wrong?” and own the literary equivalent of a flaming survival log.