The LastStraw: Congratulations to the clever people at Irish Life & Permanent, which this week posted profits of €196 million for the first half of 2005.
A key contributor to the performance was the group's insurance division, where there was a dramatic reduction in "experience variances". As the interim report commented: "The reduction is principally due to the capitalisation of positive mortality experience in 2004, reflecting sustained improvements in that experience. This leads to lower variances relative to the revised expected experience."
Critics of Irish Life will complain of disappointing results in the group's plain English division, but this is to disregard the realities of business life. If we understood how the company was making money, we'd all be at it. A certain amount of obscurity in the report is vital. Besides, even a layman can guess that the "positive mortality experience" referred to was that fewer than expected life-assurance customers died; while "lower variances relative to the revised expected experience" means the company is getting better at predicting expiry rates.
As well as protecting this information from nosy people like us, the report's language may also reflect the widespread taboo about mentioning death: a phenomenon that, as we've noted before, unites groups as disparate as the church and organised crime.
We know from films that in their interim reports, Mafia foot-soldiers always speak delicately of their victims "sleeping with the fishes", or having been "whacked" (which may be literally true, but is usually an understatement). In Christian cemeteries, meanwhile, many tombstones are variations on the theme: "Not dead, just having a negative mortality experience".
The Oxford Dictionary of Euphemisms includes a particularly poetic epitaph of a woman. "The Bonds of Life being gradually dissolved," it reads, "She Winged her Flight from this world in expectation of a better, the 15th January 1810." And whoever she was, I'm sure Irish Life will join with me in hoping that she has not since encountered any major variances relative to her expected experience.
The most encouraging part of the IL & P report is surely the reference to "sustained improvements" in positive mortality. Eternal life - the ultimate goal for believers and insurance companies alike - may still be some way off. But at least both groups can console themselves that, on average, people are living longer.
Nothing illustrates this better than the number of rock-stars approaching pension age. Happily, our own Van Morrison has become the latest to underline the trend, following such pioneers as Bob Dylan, Paul McCartney, Mick Jagger, and Roger Daltry, by turning 60. Time was, the mortality experience of rock stars was overwhelmingly negative. As recently as the 1970s, theirs was a terminal condition, for which there was no cure. And although rock-stars are not known for actuarial skills, awareness of the grim statistics often seeped into their music.
Fresh-faced as he was, no life assurance company would have taken on Bob Dylan in 1962, when his debut album included such ditties as In My Time of Dyin', Fixin' to Die, and See that my Grave is Kept Clean. You'd have been forgiven at the time for thinking he'd had bad news from his doctor. But Dylan has since lived through umpteen career phases, including a period when his lyrics were more impenetrable than anything in the IL & P report. Now, 43 years on, he appears to have given up all hope of death, and is planning yet another visit to Ireland on his "Never-Ending Tour".
The Who famously sang: "Hope I die before I get old". Yet apart from Keith Moon, they too have failed to achieve negative mortality, and have had to revise their expected experience accordingly. Daltry (61) was in the headlines this week, urging the return of vinyl records, because these new-fangled CDs are not up to standard. Little did he think once he'd ever have to deal with such challenges.
The Rolling Stones used to live like there was no tomorrow, and they were wrong as well. Sure, they increasingly resemble the backing dancers in Michael Jackson's Thriller video. But the mere fact that they're alive is miracle enough. Not only that, they've just made their first album for eight years, including the aptly-titled song: "Oh, no, Not You Again." Even Van must be surprised to have lasted this long. He took the wise precaution of recording his masterpiece at the age of 22, with a title track including the lines: "I'm nothing but a stranger in this world. I got a home on high." Nearly 40 years later, he has a home on Killiney Hill, which is about as high as you can get in this world. But for now, he's still with us. No wonder the insurance companies are making money.
