AN Abergavenny man has branded the so-called “AI revolution” as “all fur coat and no knickers” and claims all he needs is a wild horse and a prayer to outwit the “flashy technology.”

“When people talk about the AI, the singularity, and sex robots, it’s all just bells and whistles, really!” Explained semi-professional paranormal investigator Johnny Turnip.

“Where other people see the rise of the machines, I just see a malfunctioning microchip that’s got a little too big for its boots.”

Turnip said, “I remember being back in school when computers first arrived on the scene. We had those old BBC things and Acorn Electrons, and the weird teacher with a beard and a cardigan talking nonsense about how computers were the future, and we should all learn to speak their language.

"But it was only the kids with acne and bad breath that seemed to want to learn about programming. The rest of us were happy just to make paper aeroplanes and start fires in bins while the computer kids sat in stuffy and sunless rooms talking crap about coding and syntax errors.”

Turnip added, “All these years later, and me and the boys are still one step ahead of the curve and the nerd herd who want to take over the world with their glorified Spectrum 48ks, and it’s all thanks to true grit.

"That, a wild horse or two, and faith in something bigger.”

As outrageous as it may sound, Turnip claims he managed to escape the clutches of a robotic clown called Peter Paleface and his “robotic cronies” on wild horses they brought off a guy from Kentucky.

Turnip told the Chronicle, “After we had made a truce with the leprechauns to fight the AI threat together, it was all going swell until we realised the AI clown Peter Paleface had managed to track our location through a robotic tortoise.

“We thought we’d be safe in a cave far beneath the Hollywood Hills without phones, but we didn’t take account of the tortoise. The hive mind of AI can tap into any piece of tech, and we knew that it was only a matter of time before the zeros and ones turned up.

“We were humanity’s last hope, but we needed to get our hands on Potato Creek Johnny’s pot of fairy gold before Paleface could usher in the AI apocalypse. Luckily for us, the chief leprechaun Greensleeves was willing to take a bullet for the team.

“He turned to me and said, ‘Johnny, get the hell out of here. We’ll hold the fort for as long as possible to give you boys a fighting chance. There’s no way they can track you if you’re traveling tech-free. Get the pot and use its power to fight this terrible evil that means to end all wonder and all those who find solace in daydreams.’”

Turnip told the Chronicle, “As me, Big Tony, Puerto Rico Paul, and Tyke left the cave and stumbled, blinking and confused into the sunlight, we were a bit disappointed not to be in Hollywood. Turns out the cave was in the Mojave Desert all along. Why I was convinced we were in the buried deep beneath the bowels of the Hollywood Hills I’ll never know!

“'Oh well!’ I mused as I gazed out into the wilderness. ‘Sunset Strip will have to wait for another day! I’ve got a world to save!’”

Turnip added, “It was good to get out of the cave, though. I once spent four years living in one on my own, but that’s another story.

“As we waved goodbye to Greensleeves and his brave band of leprechauns. I realised we might never see this merry bunch of sociopaths again. It was a poignant moment. These supernatural bastards had been our enemies for so long that it was both strange and an honour to call them friends.

“As we shook hands and made our farewells. Big Tony urged them to stand fast and die well, and Tyke said some nonsense to Greensleeves about how he could be his wingman anytime. As in most cases of male bonding, it went on for a long time but this was the leprechaun's big Rourke’s Drift moment so it would have been rude to try and rush it.

“When it came to my turn to say goodbye to Greensleeves, he gripped my hand in his, looked me meaningfully in the eye, and said in a low growl, ‘You carry the hopes of us all, little one.’ Which I thought was a bit rich considering his size, but I chose to let if go so as not to ruin the moment.

“He then added, ‘Use the pot wisely. Bring some magic back to this god-forsaken world, and then one day you can sing me a new song. We’ll hold them off until the last leprechaun. Use the time wisely. Now, go Johnny, go.’”

Turnip explained, “Caught up in the big statement of the moment, me and the boys  all started running frantically away from the cave and into the desert, screaming and hollering like we were charging into battle, as behind us the leprechauns yelled their fierce approval and beat their chests.

“After about 20 minutes of non-stop running, we were exhausted and had to stop because it slowly dawned on us that we had no idea where we were going. We were also in the desert, and it was quite hot!

“‘So which way is Deadwood?’ Asked Paul while studying the horizon like he hadn’t failed GSCE Geography.

“‘It’s over there somewhere!’ Said Tyke as he gestured vaguely in the direction of what could of been East but just as easily West. Before he added, ‘It’s over a thousand miles though, and takes about 17 hours in a car.’

“‘Ok!’ I said, trying to rally the troops before someone had a psychotic break with reality. We can’t use anything that can be traced, and that includes most modern cars. So we need a plan and preferably some horses. Ideas anyone?’

“As everybody studied the sand thoughtfully, Tyke seemed to have an Eureka moment. ‘Golden eagles!’ He screamed.

“‘What about them?’ Said Big Tony.

“‘I can use one to send a message to my good mate Captain KFC, and he can bring us some horses in his aircraft carrier.’

“‘Sounds splendid!’ I said. ‘But where are we going to get a golden eagle from?’

“No sooner had I asked the question than Tyke started squawking and dancing around the place like an angry rooster. Watching Tyke act like a crazy chicken made Puerto Rico Paul and Big Tony start laughing so hard they began vomiting bile.

“The strange thing is, two minutes later, and we were aware of a dark cloud overhead and felt we were in the shadow of an angel’s wing, or something like that. Turns out it was an actual golden eagle. It couldn’t talk or anything insane like that, but it did land directly in front of Tyke, and cocked its head to one side as he whispered something indecipherable in its ear.

“‘The next minute it took off. And after we had regained our breath and senses at being in the presence of such a thing of majesty and might. Tyke looked at us, winked, and boasted, ‘It’s an old trick I learned from Ian McKellan. All we have to do now is hang fire and sit tight. The horses are on their way, and AI ain’t got a patch on some thoroughbred Mustangs straight out of Kentucky!’

“As we roared in appreciation, I looked at the sky and mouthed a silent ‘Thank you.’ Finally, I was going to be the hero in my very own cowboy film.”

To be continued….