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Five things that only seem like a good idea on a Sunday at 1am

DUE to a quirk in the laws of physics and alcohol, some very stupid ideas make a lot of sense on a Sunday at 1am. Including these:

Buying and eating a kebab

In the cold light of day you can see kebabs for what they really are: f**king disgusting. But at the magical hour of 1am on a Sunday, the warming red glow of the meat grill draws you in like a moth to a fly zapper. No wonder they’re always open so late. It’s the only time people are in enough of an altered state of mind to eat them.

Pissing in a back alley

Traditionally, people relieve themselves in toilets, but that’s not the case first thing on a Sunday. During that time every surface and corner is a loo waiting to happen, with back alleys becoming the most viable option. They’re free and convenient, but do carry the risk of arrest if someone sees you. Which they inevitably will, because you’re so drunk you’re bellowing Sweet Caroline while you wee.

Starting a fight

At any other time, your brain wisely holds you back from saying ‘The f**k you looking at?’ to someone you think you can take. It rationally concludes that would be a dumb thing to do and you would likely lose anyway because look at you. You should listen to your brain. On this rare occasion, it knows what it’s talking about.

Going home with someone you’ve just met

Being led back to the house of an intoxicated person you don’t know the name of is an absurd idea, and for good reason. Even if you’re lucky and there’s the possibility of sex, it’ll be crappy, early morning drunken sex. You’d be better off going home and getting a good night’s sleep in your own bed instead of clumsily rutting for seven minutes and falling asleep with the nagging feeling that you’re going to regret this.

Texting your ex

Sending a quick ‘Hey, how’s it going?’ to your ex is a bad move 24/7. They’ll either ignore you, which is a slow poison in itself, or they’ll reply with the honest truth which is even worse. Do you really want to know how much happier they are now, or hear about the vast amount of mind-blowing sex they’re having? No. You do not.

AI: can it wank me off?

THE world is alive with questions about AI. Will it replace creativity? Eliminate white-collar jobs? Cause war? But nobody has asked the key question: will it wank me off?

They said marvellous things about this information superhighway back in the 1990s. And, fair play, it’s delivered porn not only to the beige desktop in my spare bedroom but to my very pocket.

But at the end of the day, who’s tugging at my tired old member? Not the computer. Not the iPhone, even if it’s one of these latest ones and I’m Android anyway. No, it’s Muggins here.

So when I hear them talking about how bloody great this generative AI’s going to be with its machine learning but not one word about digital genital manipulation, I see straight through it. I know we’re getting one more great leap forward that won’t touch my cock.

It’s not like it’s a complex operation or takes particularly long. A quick shuffle and it’s all over. Granted you can’t grip too hard or too lightly, but that’s all in a day’s work for AI.

I clearly remember seeing a prototype device on Tomorrow’s World way back in the 1980s, same episode they did the barcodes on, though I’ve contacted the BBC and apparently that one was wiped.

So instead of creating new diseases or controlling weather, let’s train AI on thousands of hours of tugjob footage. Show it every hand shandy going. If it wants to surreptitiously access every laptop camera in the world to further its learning journey, I’ve no objections.

And by the year 2025 let’s unveil an AI that will give me the wank of the century first time out. Let’s get technology working for the common man for a bloody change. Eh?

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