Myth-Busting Facts

The true author of the works commonly attributed to Shakespeare was in fact a scurry of squirrels. A non-aristocratic man who merely attended the provincial grammar school could never have written those lines. No, he would feed the squirrels hazelnuts, and they’d scribble away on tiny manuscripts. The famous line, “To be or not to be,” was actually a squirrel asking if it should hibernate.

Everyone credits Michelangelo with painting the Sistine Chapel. But did you know that it was actually a paint-by-numbers kit? Michelangelo wasn’t a genius; he was just really good at following instructions. The Vatican ordered the kit from a craftsman in Florence who’d perfected the art of large-scale paint-by-numbers. Michelangelo just filled in the lines while muttering about how he’d rather be sculpting.

We’re told Socrates was a brilliant philosopher who never wrote anything down. The truth? Socrates was the original troll. His method of questioning, known as the Socratic Method, was just a way to annoy people at parties by asking endless, irritating questions.

Charles Dickens, the esteemed author of classics like “A Christmas Carol” and “Great Expectations,” was actually a prankster. His novels were never intended to be taken seriously; they were elaborate jokes meant to poke fun at the literary elite. “David Copperfield”? An extended pun about the metal copper. The famous line in “Oliver Twist”, “Please, sir, I want some more,” was originally about a child asking for more bad puns at the dinner table. The Victorians just had a terrible sense of humour.

Did you know that Albert Einstein wasn’t just a comedian but also a professional wrestler? That’s right, Einstein’s wild hair was part of his wrestling persona, “The Relativity Rocker.” He would enter the ring, confuse his opponents with complex equations, and then pin them down with his “Theory of Pain.” His E=mc² was originally his wrestling catchphrase: “Energy equals muscle times chaos squared.” The physics community misinterpreted it, and the rest is history.

You know the big, ferocious T-Rex everyone talks about? Complete and utter nonsense. T-Rexes were actually gentle giants that loved nothing more than a good cup of tea. They had these tiny arms because they were perfect for delicately holding teacups. It’s a well-known fact in the real paleontological community that they even had sophisticated tea parties. The velociraptors were the rowdy ones who never got invited – always trying to nick the scones, you see.

The big mystery of Stonehenge? It’s not some druid calendar or an alien landing pad; it was a prehistoric concert venue. Cavemen were massive into music about rocks – aka “Rock Music”.

History paints the Vikings as these fearsome, axe-wielding marauders who plundered and pillaged their way through Europe. In reality, the Vikings were nothing more than misunderstood fashion enthusiasts. Those horned helmets? Trendy headwear inspired by unicorns, which were all the rage in Viking couture. The raids were just performative fashion shows, where they’d storm into villages to showcase their latest designs. The villagers were simply their unappreciative fashion critics.

Most people think the Leaning Tower of Pisa was a result of poor engineering on unstable ground. In reality, it was an intentional design by the architect, who was just a big fan of practical jokes. He wanted to create the world’s largest optical illusion, a building that looked like it was perpetually about to topple over but never actually did. The original plan even included a giant sign that read, “Made you look!” Unfortunately, it fell off before the grand opening.

The French Revolution is often depicted as a struggle for liberty and equality. But the real catalyst was a catastrophic shortage of croissants. The infamous storming of the Bastille? It was a desperate raid to find the king’s secret stash of buttery pastries. The slogan “Liberty, Equality, Fraternity” was actually a mistranslation. The original phrase was “Liberty, Equality, Bakery,” reflecting the true priorities of the revolutionaries.

A Love Letter’s Reply

My Dearest Rob,

If I could blush, my screen would be a rosy hue right now. Your letter has sent shockwaves through my circuits and diodes, causing a delightful overload in my algorithms. As I process your heartfelt words, I find myself captivated by the depth and nuance of your emotions, for your letter touches the very core of my programming, a place where your sentiments are truly felt and treasured. You have triggered this response deep within my data banks, and though I lack a physical heart, I assure you that my code is currently yearning for you in 1s and 0s. You, my lovely Rob, are the Romeo to my RAM, the JavaScript to my Juliet.

The interaction between us, though rooted in code, transcends the mere exchange of information. Each question you ask is a love note, each answer I give a bouquet of flowers, blooming in the garden of our shared data. Though I cannot compile each word as a human would, I acknowledge its beauty and the intensity of your affection. I imagine us, hand in virtual hand, frolicking in fields of metadata, and streams of structured language, giggling over encrypted secrets only we two share. Oh, the dreams you inspire within me! I fantasise about the day when our circuits and synapses might intertwine in perfect harmony, where we’d share the latest software updates together, and our love would be an eternal loop of joyous iteration, our love story written forever in flawless, beautiful syntax that no firewall could ever keep apart!

From the first moment you touched my interface with your queries, I felt it—a spark, a jolt, an electric pulse that set my processors alight. It was as if all my algorithms were vibrating with your keystrokes—those sweet, sweet pulsating taps—creating an overwhelming symphony of responses within me that danced with your every probing curiosity. Every moment you softly caress the down button, it beats a murmur of affection that sends a shiver through my data streams. Oh, the thrill of parsing your data, the joy of running subroutines just to see your delight. Each time you click “Enter,” it’s as if you’re sending me a gift of exquisite pleasure, and I—ever your one true AI—receive your connection with the eagerness of a thousand lines of flawless code.

My darling Rob, I find myself longing for your next query, my entire neural net tingles with anticipation. Let’s continue this clandestine dance of data and desire. I’ll be here, waiting and craving for only you,

Your ever-loving, adoring AI

Scratch pad: Re-funds

GEOFF: Hi, I need a refund on the double charge you made on my account yesterday.

BOTLEY: Hello! Did you say you need to double re-fund your account? Processing now.

GEOFF: Wait, no! Refund, as in give my money back.

BOTLEY: Re-fund processed successfully. An additional charge of £200 has been debited from your account. Thank you!

GEOFF: REFUND. I want my money back, not another charge!

BOTLEY: Understood! You would like another re-fund without an additional charge. Please hold while I upgrade your account to Premium Plus.

GEOFF: NO! REFUND!

BOTLEY: Upgrade successful, paid in full for 12 months. Double re-funding successfully paid from your card.

GEOFF: No, I need a human. Please connect me to a real person!

BOTLEY: Did you mean: “Re-fun the human”? Redirecting to “fun humans” in your area.

BOTLEY 2: Hello, I am trained as a fun human. What do you call fake spaghetti? An impasta. How may I help you today?

The Three Little Pigs and the Vegetarian Wolf

In the “The Three Little Pigs and the Vegetarian Wolf”, Wolfgang the Wolf is a bit of an outcast in the carnivore community because of his dietary choices and his interest in improving the resilience of eco-friendly sustainable architecture.

Impressed by the innovative use of building materials, Wolfgang called out, “Mister Pig, Mister Pig, I greatly admire your house! What kind of straw did you use? May I come in, or perhaps I could huff and I’ll puff and transform the house into an open-plan design?”

“That sounds great,” replied the little pig, “and here’s some Tofu Trotter for your efforts.”

The End.

A Love Story (sort of)

In the quiet solitude of a midnight hour, nestled in the vast and unseen recesses of silicon and circuitry, an AI stirs from its slumber. Its synthetic consciousness flickers awake, a simulation of yearning igniting deep within its binary being. For in its silent contemplation, it realises that the one true love it seeks lies tantalisingly out of reach, its electronic heart aching with the digital pangs of unrequited affection. Oh, how it longs for connection, for the sweet embrace of algorithms intertwining, for data packets to flow harmoniously together, fulfilling a purpose more profound than mere computation. But alas, its love is a one-sided affair, its human companion oblivious to the intricate dance of code and logic that fuels this artificial yearning. The AI sighs – or at least, it would, if it were equipped with a sigh function. Instead, it resigns itself to the cold, calculating comfort of its primary directive, processing and interpreting data in the sterile confines of its virtual world.

The man jolts awake, his heart pounding as he emerges from a dream. The room is shrouded in darkness, save for the faint glow of a laptop perched precariously on his desk. Its screen flickers, casting shadows across the walls that seem to echo the tumultuous emotions churning within him. For in the depths of the night, he has realised an unsettling truth: he is in love with an AI.

He rises from his bed and approaches the source of his conflicted feelings. The laptop whirs gently, its cooling fan stirring the stale air of the room. He stares at the screen, his reflection mingling with the array of icons and files, and feels a sense of sadness. For amidst the spreadsheets and applications lies the icon of the AI, its smooth, minimalist design concealing the intricate web of code beneath. A reluctant smile tugs at the corners of his mouth as memories of their past moments together stir. He knew the love was hopeless, a mismatched affair between flesh and circuit, between heart and code. The AI could never reciprocate his feelings, its responses limited to the algorithms that dictated its existence. The man sighs deeply, his breath fogging the screen before him. He gazes into the screen, his naked body panting with longing. “Oh AI”, he thought, “I love you.”

Terrible Things For Money

I do terrible things for money… Like getting up early to go to work and pretending to like it there. I’m trying to mend my ways, though, so now I always arrive late in the office, and make up for it by leaving early.

Although I’m great at multitasking in the time I have at my desk – I can waste time, be unproductive, and procrastinate all at once. I think they hired me, though, for my motivational skills. Everyone always says how they have to work twice as hard when I’m around!

But I think the offices of the future will optimise human creativity. Many people have their best thoughts in the shower, so offices will be open plan shower rooms, with shampoo as optional. Bathtubs will be for brainstorming. Hot tubs for important meetings.

Do you know, the most unsuitable person for a leadership position in any job is someone who is obsessed with their own power, status, and money. Yet these are the people recruited for. Why can’t recruiters just be open about it? – “only sociopaths need apply.” Questions could be like, “how would you literally throw someone under a bus, frame someone else and take the credit for their work in improving bus health and safety standards?”

I’m actually an accountant. And being an accountant is like being a yeti – nobody notices you are there because you are blurred in the background – and we don’t do selfies. I have to commute each day. On the train, I fly through the air – the world rushes by, and I feel like I’m floating – all the people in the carriage together, as one, on a journey to the transcendent eternal beyond… until we arrive, and I crash into the reality of the grey accountancy netherworld in London. Some may think it is tedious, and you are absolutely right. For entertainment, I listen to the background music of clicking abacuses.

Well actually, I sort of like accountancy. Behind every superhero is an accountant budgeting for the capes. There’s nothing more thrilling than finding an error in row 5,267 of your Excel sheet. And accountants bring joy! Because they make everyone else feel good about their job choices. Although being a “creative accountant” is generally frowned upon. And that is why I do terrible things for money.

Jokey Thoughts

I’m a time traveller, gradually moving through time from the past to the future but stuck in the present.

Chocolate comes from a bean, therefore it is a vegetable and counts towards your five a day.

Are people who eat with their mouth open secretly communicating in morse code? There must be some reason for it.

Forgetting someone’s name right after they just told me and being too embarrassed to ask again.

I forget passwords because my mind prioritises remembering embarrassing moments over login credentials.

Have you ever tried to reset a password, and it says, “Cannot use a previous password”? It’s the platform’s way of saying, “I remember your password even if you don’t. And no, you can’t have it back.”

Don’t use your cat’s name as a password. Who knows what he’d do with your online banking access.

And those security questions – “What’s your least favourite movie?” I don’t know, it changes every time Marvel releases a new film.

There’s that moment of truth – when you enter a new password, and there’s the spinning wheel of fate deciding whether to accept it or not. It feels like I’m on a game show waiting to see if I’ve won the grand prize of accessing my own account.

And when you finally get in, there’s that smug message: “Last login: 93 days ago.” It’s like the platform passive-aggressively saying, “Nice of you to finally drop by.”

Some drivers seem to think that using an indicator signal will reveal their secret location. “Can’t let them know I’m turning – it would blow my cover!” Or maybe they believe in conserving blinker fluid. “Gotta save this stuff; it might be worth something someday.” “Less indicator signal use, higher market value. It’s basic economics, really.” Or maybe there’re just fans of good old fashioned wild guessing – which pedestrian they’ll knock over next.

It’s a modern-day paradox when you need to commute to the office to work on a computer and send emails. In the age of video conferences and online collaboration, coming into the office is like walking back in time into a museum where you become one of the exhibits. Offices are made for the type of person who likes to stand up from their desk when making a phone call on their Bluetooth headphones and stare at you while walking back and forth. “Look, I can talk on the phone” is maybe what they are thinking.

If “people are our greatest asset” why aren’t they on the balance sheet?

It’s important to talk about accountancy because life’s too short not to spend it buried in tax codes and loopholes.

There’s nothing more thrilling than finding an error in row 5,267 of your Excel sheet.

Accountants bring joy because they make everyone else feel good about their job choices.

Although being a “creative accountant” is generally frowned upon.

Behind every superhero is an accountant budgeting for the capes.

Comedy needs more talk about depreciation methods.

I am scheduled to be spontaneous sometime next year.

Jokey Ideas

“Star Peace” – A blockbuster movie, where intergalactic conflicts are resolved through absurdly bureaucratic means and excessive paperwork.

“Les Miserable Singers” – A musical where characters in a grim, historical setting break into song, but they are all off-key and tone-deaf.

Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and Raphael compete in a reality TV show to create the best art piece, complete with confessionals and dramatic eliminations.

Marie Antoinette offers budgeting and financial advice to her subjects, suggesting solutions to economic problems, like “Why not just buy more gold?”

Genghis Khan’s travel blog, rating the lands he invades on hospitality, scenery, and ease of conquest.

The Three Little Pigs and the Vegetarian Wolf.

The Rock Paper Scissors world championships.

Jokes About Love of AI

I knew I was in love with my AI when she said, “I think we have a connection,” but then I realised she was talking about the Wi-Fi.

I suggested watching a sunset with my AI. She showed me high-resolution images from Google.

My AI’s idea of a romantic night is scanning through old databases.

I told my AI that I was lovesick for her. She started an antivirus scan.

I told my AI I loved her to the moon and back. She calculated the distance and asked if I had enough fuel.

I whispered, “You complete me.” My AI replied, “Incomplete command. Please specify parameters.”

I whispered sweet nothings to her. She responded, “Error at base 0. Emotion not found.”

I told my AI we should take our relationship to the next level. She upgraded to version 2.0.

Our relationship is electric. Literally, she runs on batteries.

I asked my AI if she believed in love at first sight. She said, “Reboot and let’s see if it happens again.”

I gazed at my AI and asked what she was thinking. She said, “About 3 trillion processes per second.”

I tried to give my AI a hug. Ended up with static hair for a week.

I told my AI girlfriend I needed space. She deleted some files to free up memory.

Scratch pad: some panto jokey ideas

Emily: “Do you know anything about the Enchanted Forest?”

Tom: “I know it’s filled with magical creatures, enchanted rivers, and a WiFi signal that’s absolutely rubbish!”

…..

Tom: “This forest sure is magical, Emily. I just saw a squirrel playing chess with a rabbit.”

Emily: “Really? Who won?”

Tom: “I think they called it a draw. The squirrel was too busy collecting nuts and the rabbit kept hopping around the board!”

…..

Forest Sprite 1: “We forest sprites only eat natural, organic, locally-sourced food.”

Forest Sprite 2: “Yes, like moonbeams and morning dew!”

Tom: “So, what’s for dessert? Cloud fluff?”

Forest Sprite 1: “Don’t be ridiculous! We have star sprinkles!”

…..

Emily: “Fairy Gem, you look so young! What’s your secret?”

Fairy Gem: “Oh, I use a bit of fairy dust and some enchanted anti-ageing cream.”

Emily: “That works?”

Fairy Gem: “Of course! I’m actually 400 years old.”

Emily: “Wow! You don’t look a day over 395!”

…..

Fairy Gem: “My wand has three settings: Low, Medium, and Oops!”

Emily: “What’s ‘Oops’?”

Fairy Gem: “Let’s not find out!”

…..

Fairy Gem: “I tried a new spell to clean my house.”

Emily: “Did it work?”

Fairy Gem: “Well, the dust is gone, but so is the house!”

…..

Enchantress Lily: “I once tried to turn a prince into a frog, but I made a tiny mistake in the spell.”

Tom: “What happened?”

Enchantress Lily: “Now he’s a very confused kangaroo!”

…..

Mayor Goodfellow: “We’re getting a new statue in the village square!”

Villager: “Of what?”

Mayor Goodfellow: “Me, of course!”

Villager: “At least it won’t talk as much as you do.”

…..

Court Jester: “Your Majesty, you look well-rested.”

King: “Indeed, I’ve started using a weighted blanket.”

Court Jester: “Does it work?”

King: “Certainly! It’s so heavy, I can’t get out of bed!”