AI and Cheese
To the Editor,
I find myself writing today in a state of peculiar bewilderment, grappling with two pieces of news that, though seemingly unrelated, have somehow tangled themselves together in my mind like an ill-fated ball of wool. The first is the announcement that Sir Keir Starmer wants the UK to become a global hub for artificial intelligence innovation. The second is the unsettling discovery that the cheese I bought yesterday was out of date and nearly sent me to an early grave.
Let us start with AI, a concept that sounds futuristic and exciting but also a little intimidating — like a robot butler who might vacuum your floor one day and overthrow humanity the next. Sir Keir’s ambitions are grand, no doubt, and I can picture a future where AI revolutionises British industry, from robotic tea brewers in every home to self-driving double-decker buses that still somehow manage to be late. But as I sat there last night, clutching my stomach and regretting every bite of that suspicious cheddar, I couldn’t help but wonder: can AI really solve problems like this?
Surely, if the UK is to lead the world in AI, we should start with something practical, like a smart fridge that politely informs you when your cheese is about to go rogue. Imagine an AI assistant that could warn me: "Horace, that brie has ambitions far beyond its expiration date. Approach with caution." Instead, I am left relying on my own flawed human instincts, which are apparently no match for the seductive lies of a discounted cheese wheel.
And yet, as I contemplate the vast potential of AI, I am struck by a troubling question: would AI even understand cheese? Could a machine, however advanced, grasp the delicate balance between ripeness and ruin, between "perfectly mature" and "you’re about to regret this"? Or would it simply classify all cheese as a risky endeavour, banning it from our lives entirely in the name of health and safety?
Perhaps my own AI confusion is to blame for the cheese debacle. While Sir Keir dreams of a high-tech Britain, I am still grappling with basic questions like why my phone keeps suggesting I visit a golf course (I don’t even own clubs) or how the printer knows the exact moment to run out of ink during an important document. If we can’t control these small things, how can we possibly hope to manage an entire hub of artificial intelligence?
For now, I shall leave the lofty dreams of AI innovation to the experts while I focus on the more immediate task of avoiding expired dairy products. And if anyone in Somerset has an AI-powered cheese scanner — or simply a reliable gut instinct for Camembert — please do let me know.
Yours, slightly nauseous but forever curious,
Horace Stilton-Smythe
(Future AI enthusiast, current cheese victim)