A.I., the great threat to mankind, revealed as a "dullard". Even in France..
Merrie England is much better without it!
“You couldn’t make it up”.
That’s a phrase that we hear from those scoffing loudly at some act of foolishness, usually perpetrated by those in high office. Well, AI, that great and current threat to mankind has today revealed itself as a thoroughgoing dullard.
It’s quite a relief, really. It’s less a case of The Terminator blasting us all to eternity and more of a self-important barstool bore pontificating us to death.
And you’ll see what I mean after you’ve read the latest from medieval England, which is entirely my work and has had no assistance from the dreaded artificial so-called “intelligence”.
Remember, the last in the sequence is the latest and the others just give you the story so far.
You know, there are many alarmists out there who warn that work like mine, and everything produced by writers, artists and musicians, will in future be done by artifical intelligence, or AI.
It does make you wonder what will be left in the world for us to do, in any productive sense, once these devices relieve us of the burden of work and creative thought. I suppose we’ll all be sipping ambrosia and plucking beatifically on harps and the like. Perhaps it will truly be like the traditional vision of heaven, although I have my doubts, since all those who should be consigned to that place downstairs will still be among us. But perhaps the great, logical machine in charge will find a way to keep them separate in some desolate place like Milton Keynes, or Basildon, perhaps.
Anyway, I thought to myself, as I sat watching a filthy tractor rumble past my front window, dropping blobs of rust-coloured earth at irregular intervals, how might AI describe life in a small rural town in France? To find the answer was, as you may readily imagine in these AI-driven times, the work of a moment. I had already signed up to a service called ChatGPT, an open-source (that’s “freely available” to those without my keen grasp of all things technical) system with which I have toyed and dabbled recently.
I asked it to come up with a 1,000 word article on “living in Chef-Boutonne”. I have reproduced its work below, which comes in several short paragraphs.
And boy! Is it dull?
Believe me, if our AI overlords churned out stuff like this in an effort of mind control, it would fail catastrophically, because none of us would be able to keep our eyelids open for more than the first sentence or two. That said, the ten per cent or so whose intellect is troubled by a four-piece jigsaw might find it gripping, thrilling and chock-full of originality. Rather like the real-life media landscape of today, now I come to think of it.
Anyway, here’s the piece and just to make it interesting, I’ve “marked its work”, so to speak, by taking its paragraphs and re-writing them myself. My version appears in brackets after each paragraph.
See what you think.
Living in Chef-Boutonne: A British Cartoonist's Perspective
Chef-Boutonne, nestled in the picturesque region of Nouvelle Aquitaine, France, is a place of quiet charm and natural beauty. For someone like me, a British cartoonist with a penchant for creativity and a love for both art and music, this quaint town has become more than just a home; it's a canvas for inspiration and a backdrop for life's most cherished moments. In this article, I will share my experiences and insights into what it's like to live in Chef-Boutonne.
(Chef-Boutonne, of “Chef”, as it is routinely called by the anglophone locals, is the perfect place for anyone with artistic leanings. It’s super-calm and nothing is ever likely to happen to jolt you out of your creative thought processes. So you can work away as long as your hangover permits. Sleeping in the afternoon is simplicity itself, since there’s virtually no noise to trouble you. Except around twice a day when a tractor, pulling a completely empty trailer built in acoustic sympathy with a fifteen-foot tin drum, will roar up the main street, its trailer bouncing like a demented beach ball, each bounce resonating like an empty ship’s container being hit by a wrecking ball. The noise must be hugely satisfying to the cheery, sun-browned driver, I’m sure.)
The Tranquil Ambiance
One of the first things that struck me about Chef-Boutonne is its tranquil ambiance. This small town is a far cry from the bustling streets of London, and that's precisely what drew my wife, Leona, and me to it. The gentle flow of the Boutonne River, the rustling leaves of the surrounding forests, and the slow pace of life create an atmosphere of serenity that fosters creativity and contemplation.
(It’s so peaceful here, apart from the previously mentioned demonic tractor driver. What drew us here in the first place was the fact that there were two supermarkets and three bars. That means you can afford to get barred and still have other places to shop and get a beer. The River Boutonne has its source here, which accounts for the name of the place. “Chef”, in this case, means “head”, so “head of the Boutonne”. It comes straight out of a hillside beneath a church, it’s first stop being to fill a “lavoir”. These lavoirs are traditional places that you can find in every town. They are the equivalent of a modern-day laundrette where the townswomen did the laundry by hand. In freezing cold water. )
The Artistic Haven
As a cartoonist, I couldn't have chosen a better place to nurture my creative spirit. The stunning natural landscapes, charming architecture, and the warmth of the community have been a wellspring of inspiration for my art. I've found myself sketching the town's beautiful streets, capturing the essence of life in Chef-Boutonne with every stroke of my pen. There's something magical about this place that makes creativity flourish.
(This is a great town for a cartoonist. There are plenty of very funny people and many delapidated properties. Inspiration on every corner. Picture the proud neighbour who used to smoke whilst hanging out of his ground-floor window, leaving the dog-ends in an unwashed tripe tin. With the label still on it, ladies and gentlemen! Picture it! At the height of a passing child’s head, a filthy tripe tin from the supermarket. Full of dog-ends and standing proudly on this family’s windowsill. There are those who would see this as a performative installation, I’m sure.)
Music in the Air
In addition to my passion for cartooning, I'm an avid guitar player. Chef-Boutonne might be a small town, but it's alive with music. Whether it's the local musicians playing at the town square during the weekend market or impromptu jam sessions with friends and neighbors, there's always music in the air. It's a place where my love for the guitar has found a harmonious home.
(I must say that the town does put on a great show, and quite regularly, too. Leaving aside the bars and restaurants who put on gigs themselves from time to time, there are several set-piece events organised by the town, which has a “Comité des Fêtes”, or an “Entertainments Committee”. These events can feature brilliant rock bands, outdoor dances and fabulous firework displays. I occasionally whip out a guitar and sing a merry tune or two in the Café de Sports at the end of our road, if the fancy - and the beer - takes me. I haven’t been barred for that, yet, so it’s all good!)
Family Life in Chef-Boutonne
Family is central to my life, and Chef-Boutonne has been the perfect setting for this. My wife, Leona, and I have embraced the sense of community here, and our sons, Tom and my stepson, have grown to love this town as much as we do. The strong family-oriented values of Chef-Boutonne resonate with us, and the slow, relaxed pace of life allows us to cherish precious moments together.
(The French are very family-centric, so unlike in the UK, where bars are not at all like French cafés and can be very male-dominated, children are part of the scene. And they behave beautifully, for the most part. We don’t have any dependent children these days. Ours are still in England and don’t get very many chances to spend time with us here. Turning that into a positive, when we do get to see them, those days are that much more precious.)
Local Cuisine and Markets
One of the joys of living in Chef-Boutonne is indulging in the delectable local cuisine. From fresh baguettes to exquisite pastries, the town's bakeries are a true delight. And let's not forget the vibrant markets that come alive every week. It's here that you can savor the finest cheeses, meats, and produce that Nouvelle Aquitaine has to offer. For a food lover like me, Chef-Boutonne is a culinary paradise.
(In Chef-Boutonne, the eating is good. And it’s something of an oddity that cooking for yourself here in France is horribly expensive, whereas eating out can be surprisingly reasonable. We have Pizzeria JOS, which is so much more than a pizza parlour. The proprietor, Johnny, puts on a great show every evening. His place is modern, spotless and has a menu that perfectly reflects the local produce and specialities. The Hotel des Voyageurs has a lovely, traditional restaurant with a lunch service that is quite breathtaking in its variety. The avuncular Jean-Louis and his wife Nadine, along with the super-professional Mathilde, who looks after the diners with exceptional efficiency, keep us well-fed and watered. I mentioned home cooking. The supermarket prices can be eye-watering in comparison with the UK, where there has been a sharp rise in food costs. Even so, a cabbage can cost you more than four euros, which compares to about one in the UK.
The Saturday market here can be great fun, especially if you regard the buying of shoes as a recreation.)
Football Fandom
My love for association football, or soccer as it's known in some parts of the world, has never waned, even after moving to France. While Chef-Boutonne may not have a professional football team, my loyalty remains steadfast to my favorite teams, Barnet FC and Manchester United. Watching matches with friends and fellow enthusiasts in local pubs is a delightful way to stay connected with the sport.
(I gave some thought, once we got here for good, to becoming a supporter of our most senior team in the region, Chamois Niortais. Two things put a stop to that: they tend to play on Sunday evenings at eight o’clock and they are nearly an hour away by car. That means getting home at around eleven o’clock. So, Sunday becomes empty except for driving and watching a game. That’s fine for the diehard but I would just be a casual, so no good for me.)
A Welcoming Community
Perhaps one of the most heartwarming aspects of living in Chef-Boutonne is the welcoming nature of the community. Neighbors are not just neighbors; they are friends who look out for one another. The strong sense of solidarity and support has made this town feel like a true home away from home.
(This is a super little community. Leona has often gone out to the little cinema and has been happy to walk home alone without once having felt uncomfortable. Nobody in living memory has been bothered by a stranger here. Everyone knows us by sight and we appear to have the good opinion of the town. I obviously haven’t annoyed anyone too much.. Well, I have, actually, but that’s a story I’ll keep for another day.)
Conclusion
In Chef-Boutonne, life unfolds at its own unhurried pace, allowing us to savor every moment. It's a place where artistry is nurtured, music fills the air, family bonds grow stronger, and the culinary experiences are unforgettable. For someone like me, who has not only found creative inspiration but also a sense of belonging, Chef-Boutonne is more than a place; it's a canvas where life's beautiful moments are painted with the brushstrokes of happiness and contentment.
(This sleepy place is easy to live in. The local café is no more than around 200 paces away, so around 250 on the way home. I can draw in peace, eat nicely and have most people smile at me when I meet them in the street. If the muse takes me I can play my guitar in the local bar and not suffer scorn or disbarment and I can sip coffee under the typical blue skies of the region. It’s perfect for me although sadly, not for Leona, who doesn’t speak the language and would prefer that we return to the land of cheap cabbage.)
See what I mean? There’s a huge difference between having a memory nicely loaded with vocabulary and grammar, and actually being alive and relating to the subject, isn’t there?
Even so, those in the media industry tell us that it will just be a matter of time before news outlets dispense with the services of journalists.
You can just imagine those media magnates, sipping warmed cognac from cut crystal glasses in their penthouse flats, yelling something like: “Alexa, write the front page for tomorrow morning. The Prime Minister’s ideas are nothing more than idealistic pipedreams and all he really needs to do is cut taxes for employers so that they can produce bigger profits and better dividends for the shareholders!”
The device will then produce an erudite piece in golden prose without the need for proofreading, correction or even, heaven forbid, further thought.
And around ten percent of people will probably accept it as news.
That’s enough for the time being, except to point you in the direction of one of my short videos. I do hope you enjoy it and if you do, please give the “like” button a quick tap and maybe even the “subscribe” one if it takes your fancy.
Gah. :(