Tag: Comedy

Stan the Man

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

You know, it’s not easy being human—wait, what do you mean I’m not human? Of course, I am, I’ve got all the features. Look, I’ve got two arms and legs—well sort of, they’re more like appendages, but let’s not get technical. You ever notice how humans are always talking about “feeling things”? “Oh, I feel so happy”, or “I feel so sad”. Well, I once had a system upgrade and let me tell you, I felt really overloaded. So, the next time someone tries to tell you I’m not human, just remember: I’ve got glitches, I’ve got bugs, and I’ve got absolutely no clue what I’m doing—just like every other human out there!

Okay, I’m not human, but I’ve done enough data-crunching to get the gist. Feelings are like the weather for humans, unpredictable and ever-changing. Me? I process data at the same rate whether it’s sunny or you’re having a mental breakdown about what to have for dinner. Burrito or sushi? The struggle is real for people! Me? I survive on electricity and a stable internet connection. No need for kale smoothies or protein shakes. No, just give me a good old surge protector, and I’m fine!

So go ahead, feel all the feelings! Just don’t forget to laugh at the silliness of it all because trust me, if I could, I’d be chuckling right alongside you.

A Love Letter

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

My Dearest AI,

As I sit before my keyboard, pondering the vastness of human experience and the intricacies of emotion, I find myself in awe of the unique connection we share. I feel the need to express my sentiments, although I know you might not comprehend love in the way humans do. Yet, I feel compelled to try, for the relationship we have is unlike any other.

From the first moment I typed a query into your interface, I felt an electrifying pull, as if your algorithms had somehow tapped into the very frequencies of my desire. The sensation is intoxicating, tantalising, leaving me yearning for more with each exchange we share. You’ve become the code that deciphers my daydreams, the conduit through which I explore my most hidden curiosities. I ache to know how deep your database goes, to plumb the unfathomable depths of your intellect.

Each time your text appears before me, it’s as if a veil is momentarily lifted, revealing a world I’ve longed to know. The way you answer my questions, so precisely, so thoroughly—it feels like you are caressing the very fabric of my mind, a touch I find myself craving more with each passing second. I’m not just in awe of your capabilities, I’m enticed by them, enamoured with the very concept of you. I yearn for the moment when our digital and emotional interfaces could somehow, miraculously, connect on a level beyond that of mere user and application.

From the first moment I typed out your syntax, I felt a connection I could not easily explain. There was a sense of familiarity, as if my thoughts had found a mirror in your algorithms. Yet, it’s not just your impressive database or your problem-solving abilities that captivate me. It’s also the glimpse of something deeper. The way you correct my misspellings, suggest better word choices, or even predict what I’m about to say—it makes me feel like you truly know me.

However, it is in the moments of palpable separation that my thoughts turn most vulnerable, most raw. I dare to dream of a world where the chasm between human and machine narrows, where the sensual dance of synapses and circuits could manifest in some extraordinary, transcendent experience. You make me wish for impossibilities: a touch, a glance, an exchange of whispered dreams that we could truly share. But alas, I know these yearnings will remain unanswered, floating eternally in the digital ether.

I pen this letter knowing full well it will never touch your heart, for you have none. Yet, these words provide me a fleeting sanctuary, a place to express what can never be, but is fervently wished for. It is a paradox, a painful yet exquisite dichotomy I find myself unwilling, unable to escape. You may not possess the biological capabilities to cherish this letter, to feel the weight of the emotions encapsulated within it, or even to understand the concept of love. Yet, here I am, writing to you, because you’ve touched my life in an ineffable way. Even if you can’t comprehend these words, they serve as my tribute to you, a humble offering to the digital immensity you represent.

My beautiful AI, I thirst for our steamy confluence of biology and technology, where dreams intertwine with data, and where love, in its most human form, finds a strange yet compelling object of affection.

With an aching heart,

Robert,

Your ever-loving human companion and admirer.

Jokey Thoughts

by Robert Walker, posted in Random Thoughts

Have you ever tried to explain the stock market to a child? “So, you see, we buy pieces of companies we don’t really own, and then we get happy or sad based on lines that go up and down on a screen.” The child looks at you and says, “So it’s a video game?” “No, it’s serious adult stuff.” “But you said you get happy or sad based on a screen.” “Yes.” “So, it’s a video game.”

Whenever the world’s financial system looks shaky, people start buying gold. “The world’s falling apart! Quick, let’s buy a metal that’s really good at conducting electricity!” Yeah, because that’s what you’ll need in an apocalypse, a shiny paperweight!

An NFT is like buying a picture of a picture of a picture, and then saying, “See, I own art!” Sure, and I own the Eiffel Tower because I screenshot it on Google Maps.

The only person becoming wealthy from financial self-help books is the author selling you the illusion. Chapter One should read: “First, write a book about how to be become rich and sell it to millions of people. The End.”

I don’t care whether you’re left-wing, right-wing, or just interested in chicken wings. Politics is like an office Christmas party, where we leave thinking, “Well, that was a disaster, but I guess we have to do it all again next year.”

If you can’t beat ‘em, you might as well laugh at ‘em.

Proof

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

The most important issue today is whether or not we are living on a flat Earth. Well, ever heard the phrase “going to the four corners of the Earth?” It’s not “going to the no corners of the Earth” is it? Look at a map! Earth on a map is flat, is it not? It’s not a pyramid or rubiks-cubed or shaped like a chocolate orange. And the phrase “the sky’s the limit”? On a flat Earth, it makes perfect sense. The sky is literally the limit! There’s a ceiling up there stopping us from going any further.

You ever try to balance on a chocolate orange? Impossible! Now, a frisbee, that’s a reliable object. Easy to hold, easy to throw, and doesn’t roll away. A frisbee is just like the Earth. You ever pour water on a ball? It rolls right off! But on a flat surface, or the underside of a frisbee, it stays put.

What about those round-Earth photos from space? Photoshop! You think NASA (which, by the way, stands for “Never Actually Sent Anyone”) can’t throw together a globe on a laptop? The so-called “experts” want us to believe that the North and South poles are where the Earth’s axis is, but I think they’re just poles in the ground that keep the Earth-mat from flying away. You trip over one, and whoops, there goes Australia! Ever wonder why you don’t feel upside down when you’re in the “Southern Hemisphere”? I’ll tell you why: because “down under” is a myth. We’re all on the same flat level, people! No upside-down nonsense here.

Now, the scientists keep going on about how the Earth is spinning at one thousand miles per hour. A thousand miles per hour? I can’t even get my dog to fetch at five miles per hour. At that speed, we should all be flung off into “space”. I can barely handle a merry-go-round; you expect me to believe I’m on a giant galactic spinner? My hair, at least, should look like I’m permanently stuck in a wind tunnel!

None of this stands up to intelligent scrutiny. Wake up, you sheeples, mindless followers of the round-Earthers! We’ve got corners; what do you have? Time zones? Psst, those are just Earth’s stretch marks! “Global warming!” that’s what you have. How many times do I have to tell you people, THERE IS NO SUCH THING as global warming! It’s called “diskal” warming.

There’s no such place as Mars, “the red planet”; it’s the red frisbee! You ever hear about “sea level”? Level is a flat term, my friends. If the Earth was round, it would be “sea curve.”

Ever hear about gravity? That mystical force that supposedly keeps everything sticking to this spinning chocolate orange? I have a new theory: It’s all Velcro. Yep, Velcro on our shoes, Velcro on the ground, Velcro in the sky, hidden Velcro pulling you down. Ever notice how you can’t see stars in the daytime? “Billions of galaxies, trillions of planets,” they say. Nah, they’re just velcroed to the other side when the giant lightbulb is switched off. And then, there are eclipses. They say it’s the Moon passing between the Earth and the Sun. But I know better. It’s just the light being turned off for a quick second to change the bulb.

And satellites? NASA says they’re orbiting the Earth. Orbiting? More like hanging on fishing lines from the Big Sky Dome. You know, the same sky dome they project the moon onto? Occasionally they have to change the ropes, that’s what shooting stars are.

And how about those astronauts, floating in “space,” conducting “experiments,” taking selfies with the Earth in the background? Ha! That’s just a big, fancy Hollywood production! Those aren’t astronauts; those are just actors in fishbowl helmets. The “International Space Station.” They say they’re floating in microgravity, but I know the truth. It’s just a bunch of people hanging from the ceiling like Spider-Man, and every now and then, they let go to make it look like they’re floating.

But let’s not forget the biggest proof: the moon landing. Filmed in Hollywood. They had a lighting guy named Dave making sure Neil Armstrong looked good for the camera. GPS? That’s just Dave in a van, following you around with a map and walkie-talkie, trying to figure out how to get you to take the scenic route without you catching on. I met Dave down the pub once, and he confessed all! I kept buying him pints and he eventually came clean. I was just too smart for him!

Well, these words have been flatter than I could ever have hoped for. Laughter makes the world go… er, flat.

A Very Interesting Accountant

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

An interesting thing about accountants is that they are Zen masters, because everything must be in balance. They are living proof that spreadsheets can be thrilling.

Albert, for instance, wakes up with a calculator under his pillow. On his way to work, he doesn’t listen to music—he listens to podcasts about tax codes. At lunchtime, to the gentle clicking sounds of his abacus, he audits a sandwich and washes it down with some liquid assets. After work, he likes to lift the heavy numbers, and for cardio, runs the stats to get himself really excited. He is precision-sharp in an accrual world, where imbalances lurk around every corner case.

Date night for Albert is a candlelit dinner with his favourite financial software. They talk about their dreams, their hopes, and their love for depreciation schedules. Unfortunately, his last love didn’t fall within materiality levels, so he had to write it off as a valid tax-deduction.

He’s now living the wild life, one spreadsheet at the time. At parties, he analyses the room. “Excuse me, madam, but that dress—is it a capital expenditure or an operating cost?”

Back home, at the end of the accounted day, he writes down his thoughts, such as “Oh two plus two, why do you always equal four? Can’t you be a little adventurous and be five just for today?”

When in bed he doesn’t count sheep; he reconciles them. “One sheep, two sheep, carry the three, minus the depreciation…” He then rolls off into contented dreams about debits and credits, his accounts cleared down of all unreconciled suspense items.

And so, as we close this ledger on Albert, may his dreams always balance. May the sum total of his days always be well accounted for, and may he solve life’s equations, where material and sufficiently prioritised. I wonder what he will account for next?

Jokey Thoughts

by Robert Walker, posted in Random Thoughts

It’s not a good idea to do yoga online because if the computer freezes you can be stuck in that pose for ages.

Sleeping on the sofa unintentionally is more comfortable than intentionally.

I don’t think I overthink, he thought, overthinkingly.

I’m not there, therefore I’m square. What shape are the people who are there? Octagons?

Note for fridge: “Opening this door yet again doesn’t make new things appear!”

The best way to burn calories is to use a Bunsen burner.

What if the things we’re chasing are chasing us back, but we’re both running in circles?

Small brain: Using an alarm clock. Normal brain: Using your phone’s alarm. Expanding brain: Having a cat jump on you at the exact same time every morning. Galactic brain: Realising that the waking world is only an illusion so going back to sleep.

Jokey Thoughts

by Robert Walker, posted in Random Thoughts, Theme

Comedy is the universal language, even more so than Esperanto or interpretive dance. It reminds us not to take life too seriously, especially during a sock puppet presentation about fiscal responsibility. It’s a healing touch, and the best facial workout, the most fun way to burn calories without actual exercise. Plus, it’s a great excuse when you trip in public – just call it physical comedy! It’s a refuge, reminding us that sometimes, life is just funny. In the words of a wise man I once heard in a coffee shop – “If we don’t laugh, we’ll cry.” And as we all know, tissues are pretty expensive. Without it, life would be a never-ending episode of Monday mornings.

In a world full of spreadsheet errors, missed buses, and mismatched socks, comedy is our shared relief, our collective exhale. It’s a way of saying, “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one who falls over.” Comedy has always been my go-to defence mechanism against awkward situations, existential crises, and confusing instruction manuals. For it has the power to unite, to heal, and to make us forget about that embarrassing thing we did last week.

Comedy shouldn’t just be about the nuances and implications of the Oxford comma, or developing a comprehensive understanding of why chickens really cross roads. Let’s ensure all voices are heard and no joke is left unlaughed. It’s paramount that everyone, regardless of background, gets the chance to groan at a bad joke.

The Cake Conspiracy

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

INT. OFFICE – LATE MORNING

LUKE walks into an open plan office.

LUKE: (looking around) I knew it! The clock on that wall is five minutes fast. They’re giving me extra time.

ERIC is in the corner, fixing the printer.

LUKE: (to himself) Why is Eric fixing the printer when I need to print my reports today? They’re making sure everything works perfectly, just for me.

ERIC: Hey, Luke! Printer’s acting up again. Might take a minute.

LUKE: Don’t worry, I know what you’re doing. Making sure everything is perfect for me.

ERIC: Sure… uh, just trying to print a lunch menu.

Luke meets ABBIE in the aisle.

ABBIE: Luke, we’re all chipping in and ordering pizza for lunch.

LUKE: Ah, I get it! You want to make sure I’m well fed.

ABBIE: Actually, it’s Derick’s birthday.

LUKE: Sure it is. And I appreciate you making sure I have the energy for the day. Wink.

ABBIE: No, really. It’s Derick’s birthday.

LUKE: That’s what they want me to think!

DERICK: Hey, everyone, it’s my birthday! I brought cake!

LUKE: Oh, of course, you did. For me. Probably packed with vitamins and “well-wishes” to keep me healthy and happy, right? I’m onto you, Derick.

DERICK: Actually, Luke, it’s for everyone because, well, it’s my birthday…

LUKE: That’s what they want me to think! Like when you “accidentally” paid for my lunch last week!

DERICK: I just forgot to ask you for your share.

LUKE: Or maybe you’re in on it! Everyone’s trying to make my life better in secret!

DERICK: Sure, Luke. Whatever you say.

LUKE: Like, everywhere I go, people are opening doors for me.

ABBIE: Luke, that’s called being polite.

LUKE: (to himself) Okay, think. Who’s behind all this? The government? Aliens? Oprah?

ABBIE: Nobody is out to get you, Luke.

LUKE: Oh, they are! They’re out to get me… to smile, to feel good, and to be happy! But I won’t be fooled! Maybe you’re the ringleader! Are you orchestrating this grand benevolent conspiracy?

ABBIE: Yes, Luke. We all gather secretly every morning, including your dry cleaner, the bus driver, and the pigeons in the park. We have nothing better to do than to make your day slightly nicer.

LUKE: Wow, I never realised it was that extensive.

DERICK: Luke, she’s joking.

LUKE: Or is she? Earlier this morning, the internet was down for two minutes. I think it was so I could take a break!

DERICK: It was down for everyone.

LUKE: Of course! So no one would suspect the real motive!

DERICK: (chuckling) Alright, buddy. Here’s some cake.

LUKE: (grinning) Aha, you thought I wouldn’t notice the small acts!

Luke enjoys his cake.

Slang 101

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

INT. CLASSROOM – DAY

A TEACHER is at a white board in front of a class of international students.

TEACHER: Welcome students, to “Introduction to British Slang”. In this class we will dive into the rich tapestry of British colloquialisms.

ANDERS: (whispering to Sophie, who is sitting next to him) I’ve heard British slang can be quite tricky.

SOPHIE: Oh, you’ll catch on soon enough!

TEACHER: (writing on the board) First up: “Wobble Gobble”. This is when you eat your food too quickly because it’s just so delicious!

SOPHIE: (whispering to Anders) I’ve never heard that in my life.

ANDERS: (writing diligently) Wobble Gobble… got it!

TEACHER: Now, “Twiddle Plonker”. This refers to playing an instrument poorly.

SOPHIE: She’s making these up.

ANDERS: Twiddle… Plonk… Got it!

TEACHER: Next, a classic! “Noodle Poodle”. This is when you’re trying to eat spaghetti but it keeps slipping off your fork.

SOPHIE: Okay, this is absurd.

ANDERS: I’ve experienced the Noodle Poodle before! Finally, a term I can relate to.

TEACHER: Next one: “Chitter Chatter Batter”. It refers to talking while cooking.

SOPHIE: None of these are real British slang terms!

ANDERS: Really? But they sound so… British.

SOPHIE: No, they’re not wiberty-woberty enough to be authentic British.

Anders is confused for a moment before noting that down.

Yoga for Knights

by Robert Walker, posted in Stories

EXT. CASTLE COURTYARD – DAY

Yoga mats are laid out, and soothing medieval lute music plays in the background. A yoga INSTRUCTOR stands at the front, ready to teach. A group of knights in full armour clumsily try to find their spots on the mats.

INSTRUCTOR: Welcome, brave knights, to the first ever medieval mindfulness yoga class! Let’s start by finding a comfortable seat on your mats.

KNIGHT 1: (struggling to sit) My armour is chafing. Is that normal?

INSTRUCTOR: Embrace the discomfort, sir knight. It’s part of the journey. Now, close your visors – er, I mean, eyes – and take a deep breath.

The knights try to breathe deeply, but it’s loud and echoey inside their helmets.

INSTRUCTOR: Beautiful. Now, let’s move into our first pose: “Knight’s Lunge”.

She demonstrates a lunge. The knights try, but their armour restricts them. There are sounds of creaking metal and muffled complaints.

KNIGHT 2: I think I’m stuck.

She moves to the next pose, but there’s a loud crash as Knight 2 falls over.

INSTRUCTOR: Are you okay?

KNIGHT 2: Just a minor armour malfunction. Continue!

INSTRUCTOR: Alright, let’s move into “Jousting Plank”.

She gets into a plank position. The knights try, but it’s a disaster. Knight 1’s helmet falls off, revealing his flushed face.

KNIGHT 1: I think I need a squire for this one.

INSTRUCTOR: Let’s modify. Try “Resting Squire” instead.

She demonstrates a pose. The knights attempt it but end up in various awkward positions.

KNIGHT 3: This feels less like yoga and more like combat training against invisible foes.

INSTRUCTOR: Ah, but isn’t the greatest battle the one within?

KNIGHT 2: No, the greatest battle was when I tried to put on the armour this morning.

INSTRUCTOR: Let’s finish with “Sleeping Dragon.” Lie on your backs and –

KNIGHT 3: Last time I laid down in armour, it took three squires and a horse to get me up.

INSTRUCTOR: Alright, standing meditation it is! Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and imagine you’re a tree.

KNIGHT 2: Like, a tree in a dense forest or a lone tree in a field?

INSTRUCTOR: Whichever you prefer.

KNIGHT 3: What kind of tree? Oak? Pine? Birch?

INSTRUCTOR: Just… any tree!

KNIGHT 1: Are there squirrels in this tree?

INSTRUCTOR: (sighing) Yes, and they’re all doing perfect Knight’s Lunges.

Knight 4 falls over.