Robot Bland killed us all

'Rubbish' Artwork by Ian Stevenson.

Robots are bastards. I think we mostly agree. I used to enjoy Robot Wars, solely, so I could enjoy them all battering the bolts out of each other with a bad metal chainsaw arm. If you think robots are great, then I guess you should declare that when they are intent on mowing you down with a flame gun. Good luck, you two-faced shit.

Robots are taking our jobs, our women and coming over here, sitting on our sofa's and eating our chips.

I am a Robotisist. This is of course my own definiton of my predjudice towards robots, unlike my advanced robot dancing that deserves a Doctorate; I sometimes get it out for small kids who appreciate my rigid slick and sleek moves. I once interacted with a cash machine in robot fashion. We became one and yet we were nothing...

They reel you in with their 80085 antics, and before you know it BAM, the phoneline is automated. It’s an assault course of nonsense to keep you on the line while they deal with the other fifteen gazillion lost souls in the queue. Why couldn’t they put you in the queue to play a quiz instead? At least make my time you’re wasting enjoyable.

“Press 4 if you think the answer is Uganda”

When querying a cinema listing, the dialect recognition is so bad, I actually had to take off my neutral phone voice and become 'very Northern woman', 'who does very Northern things' in a bid to try and understand IT.

“Just transferring you to a proper human being who is fluent in many dialects...”.

We need people of course to keep the robots in check because we’re so bad at making them. Frankly any supermarket self-checkout experience I have ever encountered has always resulted in an assistant having to do something to the machine, and you’re often waiting for them. The time I save is minimal and the frustration gained is enough to want to knock over that stack of acme peaches that don’t ever seem to be there when you need them. I hereby declare I shall boycott them from this day forth.

If I had to be the robot master of the self-checkout, I would go mental within ten minutes. I’d probably get sacked for kicking one and swearing in front of small kids. I’d have to get a facial piercing to retain my dignity and  defiance at ‘The Man’. I could see me getting lots of tattoos. Maybe an ironic barcode on my face.

As humans, we are intrinsically designed to balls up, so when we balls up making an evil robot, which come on, someone is bound to do soon? I mean megalomaniacs and Tom Cruise exist. Is it time for us to hope there’s a Superman - because Megalomaniacs don't do things by halves.

I'm not seeking a Deity, although I left the religion question alone on the census. I'm not Judas, thanks, but spiritually I like to operate on the don't-be-a-dickhead-karmic scale. And so, I unveil my Robot...

The Robot of Ultimate Power, would be a figure that you could ride within, with big yet nimble legs. You would ride in the Helmet area, it’d be able to fly and would be powered by your family brand of poo. It could also vaporise litter. It’d weigh about 5kg and measure about 9ft that would pack down to a large bar bell, perfect for a bicep workout. It costs £57 (mates rates), and you can call it what you like.

But instead somebody invented a robot slave who could take a series of drinks from the kitchen to your guests in the living room, tardily manoeuvring a discarded Clementine. Probably at Christmas, in 1991.

Then the cyber dog that was just an advanced version of the yapping, somersaulting dogs you can get at most seaside resorts. It was soulless, never happy to see you. Ungrateful acrylic fake friend.

They’re inventing things that would blow my mind. Scary things, like an application that converses with you and asks you how you are feeling and intermittent generic small talk to detach you from reality. I imagine they might also suggest expensive things to buy. Like a hammock. Relax. Buy a hammock.

Of course, being a robotisist, I have no desire to learn more about the good of robots. Quite frankly the average robot experience is more disappointing than any human interaction I have ever encountered. 

And for that alone, they can fuck off.