600
This is my 600th blog. In sheer tonnage of prose, that's about ten novels worth, not including the other blogs I started and lost or abandoned. It's the raw, untreated sewage of my life gushing forth in torrents. I don't need an editor, I need Sir Joseph Bazalgette. It ficus... I deserve a break. I type with one finger and it's rusted to the knuckle. Luckily, I don't have to do this any more. We have AI now. AI, our flexible friend. What can't it do? Well, it routinely fails to take out the bins or pick up the hoover, and I'd be starving if I waited for it to make me a sandwich. But its great at impressions. It's a regular Les Dennis. It would have killed on "Copycats". A while ago some tech savvy friends tricked me. They got AI to write an essay in "my style", and in my voice (I have done many, many podcasts). They played it to me, and sat around eagerly waiting for the penny to drop. It didn't. I had no idea whose voice it w...
