Trump is busy firing his staff, Putin is busy sharing his power, money and control with himself and good old Teresa May is getting more grey by the day as Brexit negotiations are gripping her by the crotch and pulling her into the quicksand. Honestly it has to be the worst job in the world. Imagine every time she goes to Brussels the 27 former school mates see her as an outcast, no one wants to include her in their games, she is a goner. When she then takes the Eurostar back to the UK 16 million people (49% who voted remain) think the government has lost the plot. If she proposes another referendum the 17 million people who voted leave will go bananas – honestly that job is rough – In the meantime the dude who got us into this terrible mess is swanning about getting paid extra ordinary fees to open his Etonian small lips at large conferences – several posters sprang to my mind
I have often discussed ageing and its side effects. One of the common symptoms is being slightly more forgetful, having trouble to remember names of people, sometimes even just remembering certain words. One of my good German friends from University after the third pint of lager would begin to struggle with words and he would just start to name people, cars, houses, university degree, pet anything would become “Thingy”. For example it would go like this “Hallo Junge the other day I saw this girl driving her favourite “thingy” along campus, she went into the building with the big thingy on the roof and when I met her at the student bar she was wearing this thingy with fluorescent colours” In most of the times it didn’t matter to me because as a human being listening to the story I could in 9 out of 10 times figure out what was meant by thingy. Unfortunately for my children they are not quite so understanding of me when every 4th word I use is “thingy”. And even worse for kids “thingy” is often used in the playground to describe their private parts. So here dad is screaming “Come on Maya can you please pick up this “thingy” (which is some doll/toy) and she starts giggling because she thinks it refers to something else.
The other day I proved that human beings are still more incredible than Robots and Artificial Intelligence. Google has invested billions of dollars into AI (Artificial intelligence) and currently have 100 million servers trying to use data with robots and machine learning to figure out everything about you. I was looking for an electrical splitter but I typed in “I need thingy to separate mains electric supply”. The robot couldn’t do diddly squat, it went blank, 100 million servers and big data went straight down the toilet. One hour later I walked into an electrical shop where the man behind the counter certainly wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer and within 1 split second he named what I needed – so the human being could figure out “thingy” but the robots couldn’t. Oh god don’t you just love humans. Now speaking of robots and AI am I the only person who ends up shouting abuse at AI when I can’t get through to a human being at a contact centre. I wanted to cancel my sky subscription but the robots just wouldn’t let me speak to anyone yet their small robot ears were incredibly bad at understanding what I said. I would spend 15 mins just to identify who I am – ffs I know who I am but for your narrow little robot mind it just isnt enough, more security checks and you are a terrible listener. Honestly, human beings for now are still Human 2-0 Robots.
I love GOD but did he really have to include mosquitoes and moths on Noah’s ark. For many years in our house no matter what I did to my favourite Cashmere jumpers they would get ravaged by some nasty moths, and I had the Hells Angels of Moth’s living in our house. They had no fear. It didn’t matter which cupboard I hid my jumper in the moths would use their GPS location system and send some heavy hitters into the cupboard and with their pin point accuracy attack the part most visible to human beings. I mean I am a charitable dude and would gladly have shared some cashmere from the arm-pit part of jumper, but somehow oh no that wasn’t good enough for the moth’s in our house. They would always target the stomach section of the jumper so if you did wear it everyone knew the moths had a threesome in your jumper. And the weird part was the moths would use big data and share locations of which part of jumper to attack so generation after generation they always went on holiday on the same part of every cashmere jumper……honestly those fuckers must have ruined thousands of pounds worth of jumpers in our household in the past 2 decades. But there is a happy ending to this story you see moths are posh bastards and very picky – they revel in cashmere but it has to be the expensive one so as we started buying more stuff from Primark, TK Maxx and other discount outlets the posh little bastard turned their snobbish little noses up at us. As our neighbourhood gentrified and many new home owners with new cashmere jumper’s moved in across the road the moths gave us the finger and moved out. You see the morale of the story is don’t buy expensive clothes if you want to live in peace and quiet comfort, on the contrary if you fancy a moth orgy in your house go to Harrods and get the latest cashmere jumpers.
I hope you and your loved ones are doing well.
All the breast,
PS Separate Christmas message to follow in late Dec…….