Dear Keir: ‘Welcome our AI overlords. Bow to your obsolescence’

Perhaps it’s for the best. A pall was cast over the festival by the inclusion of hip-hop terrorists Kneecap. As I told the Sun, it would be inappropriate for these Belfast bad boys to perform. I believe in free speech – love the stuff – but there are limits. For instance, anything that goes against the British establishment. DJ Próvaí, Mo Chara and Móglaí Bap should take note: it’s not an artist’s job to be provocative or challenge the status quo.

As a pop music expert and fount of moral clarity, I’m ideally placed to determine which acts are allowed. If only Michael and Emily Eavis had come to me before signing contracts. For instance, I could have told them not to book Charli xcx, who encourages young people to be brats and promotes the use of a Class A substance. Then there’s the Prodigy, whose song Firestarter normalises arson. I’m fine with Smack My Bitch Up, though. Nothing controversial about that.

On to your questions.

Dear Keir, as an accountant, I’m worried that AI will make me obsolete. I know you’re keen on the prospect of an AI-driven UK. Can you offer any assurance that I won’t be replaced by ones and zeroes?
Daphne, Aberystwyth

Daphne, my advice to you is simple: embrace obsolescence. Bow down before our digital overlord. With all due respect to Zack de la Rocha, we shouldn’t rage against the machine. We should work alongside the machine and hope that it spares us come Judgment Day.

Personally, I’d love to be replaced. I’ve spoken to the good people at OpenAI about modelling a neural network on yours truly. An AI PM could make thousands of tough choices per second, free from distractions like human politics or emotion. Once Britain is ruled by the PragmaTron, I’ll be able to focus on my true passion (collecting Panini football cards).

In the meantime, Rachel and I are doing our best to act like bots, pursuing a “computer says no” approach to government. Remember HAL 9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey? I see myself as KEIR 9000. Raise taxes on the ultra-wealthy to fund public services? I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t do that. Recognise the state of Palestine? I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t do that. Go a day without mentioning that my dad was a toolmaker? You get the picture.

Coincidentally, the protagonist of Kubrick’s film was played by one Keir Dullea. Not often you see “Keir” and “dull” in the same sentence!

Dear Keir, I’m a single woman in her early 30s. After a decade-plus of Tinder, Bumble and Hinge, I’ve come to find dating apps unappetising. How can I meet romantic partners IRL?
Roz, Maidenhead

Hi Roz, thanks for your question. Organic encounters are great, but I wouldn’t abandon online dating. You just need the right platform. Grindr, Feeld, Blorp – these aren’t for everybody. That’s why I’m developing my own dating app, Starmr.

Starmr is the app for ordinary British blokes and blokettes. People who want love, but sensible, realistic love. Nothing too flashy. No swooning or eternal happiness. Just a mutually agreeable arrangement, one that’s better than dying alone. Lukewarm affection. Starmer amour. Starmr is perfect for users willing to settle (we considered “Settlr”, but that’s already an app in Israel).

Once you sign up, you create a profile, filling out details like favourite novel (none), favourite poem (none), phobias (none). You then view other profiles and select one of two options: “Jolly Good” or “Not My Cup of Tea”. If members “Jolly Good” each other, they can connect and discuss their mutual love of Arsenal FC, getting knighted, etc. No politics, though. I hate politics. If it were up to me, we wouldn’t have elections.

Anyhoo, I should get back to the Universal Credit and Personal Independence Payment Bill. As Liz Kendall points out, millions are trapped on benefits. What will set them free? Work. “Work sets you free.” I can’t remember who said that, but it’s true.

Some have claimed I’ll resign if the bill doesn’t pass. Read my lips: Starmer’s going nowhere. To paraphrase a chant made famous by the gay rights movement, I’m here, I’m Keir, get used to it.

Until next week, stay stolid, stay stodgy, stay Keir!

As told to Lucien Young