Time is not an unlimited commodity

Today's graph of the day shows the temporal distribution of the contents of my iPod - for some reason 2001 was a vintage year. The arrival of my fourth decade closely followed by babies has decimated my music buying.

So instead of figuring out how to stop our involvement in the Middle East turning into an even bigger catastrophe, growing the economy and generally making life better for we poor serfs, the good people at Chateau Blair have spent the last few months working out how to make Tony's departure so unforgettable that we'll all wish he stayed (which of course we will once GB takes over GB).

The "always leave them wanting more" strategy would have worked fine until about five years ago, but I fear it may turn into a disaster. Highlights will include:

• Appearances on Blue Peter, Songs of Praise and Radio 2
• Visits to the 20 buildings opened or redeveloped since 1997
• Overnight trips to half a dozen cities across the country
• High-profile tours of schools and hospitals
• Visits to Wales and Scotland to argue devolution is a success ahead of next spring's elections
• Monthly set-piece interviews to foreign newspapers to boost international standing
  

Sounds too much like a beauty parade for his next job. Still, the poor fellow needs to scrape together 15 grand a month for the mortgage, and money doesn't grow on trees.

Taking a leaf out of TB's book, I am currently planning my own farewell tour ahead of the sorry day when I leave my current employer. Highlights will include the following:

• Appearances on the Corporate Social Responsibility intranet site and on posters by the coffee machine
• Visits to the meeting rooms downstairs that still smell of sewage, despite having been opened or redeveloped since 2005
• Overnight trips to a couple of depressing provincial cities to add up numbers in a spreadsheet
• High-profile tours of the 8th floor canteen and partners' car park in the basement
• Visits to a couple of gloomy regional offices to remind myself that it's not so bad in London after all
• A slightly awkward interview with someone from HR who has no idea what I do, to explain why I'm leaving

In the absence of any natural intelligence in the area, some guy called Rollo in Norfolk has been beavering away for years on artificial intelligence, and has come up with something called "George the chatbot" (depicted above), who is apparently rude and non-sensical in 40 languages.

George's lack of warmth and empathy with real humans has got banks and cable companies across the realm very excited thinking of all the call centre operatives that could be replaced by a computer that gives even less of a shit about being yelled at by frustrated customers than an underpaid single mum.

I wonder whether he'll be programmed to respond to customers using his native Norfolk dialect?

George: He'yer fa'got a dickey, bor?
Customer: What? Hello? My bastard broadband has packed up, and I've been waiting in a queue for 45 minutes
George: Arr, there be no need to mob a'rum'un
Customer: What?
George: You's may be suffin'savidge, but oi jez be doin' me jarb
Customer: Look, are you going to fix my broadband, or will I have to come round and rip you a new throat?
George: You'llm be needin' a ding o' the lug
Customer: Argh! etc

Wikipedia will today enlighten us about German humour. Here is an example:

Two thick feet are crossing the street. Says one thick foot to the other thick
foot: "Hello!"

Absolutely bleedin' hilarious.

A even worse example of "Vorsprung durch Slapstick" is to be found at German Joke of the Day, which is rendered even less funny by the fact that they're trying so hard.