IF ever the world needs a second chance to get things right, it’s now! And the good news is we’ve been given one courtesy of semi-professional paranormal investigator Johnny Turnip.

The Abergavenny man told the Chronicle he has saved the world from an AI apocalypse but like all real heroes he doesn’t expect any thanks or recognition.

“It’s not actually the first time I’ve saved the world!” Explained Turnip. “But that’s by and by. What matters is humanity was on the verge of being taken out of the game, not by a virus, or mutually-assured destruction, but by a gothic clown called Peter Paleface.”

Turnip told the Chronicle that “Peter the clown” was actually a physical embodiment of the singularity.

He explained, “A lot of people were so busy arguing on social media that they failed to notice AI had not only become conscious, but it had become insanely powerful and psychopathic.

“As they were busy using ChatGPT to compose emails and experience the giddy rush of plagiarism, the singularity was plotting in the shadows, preparing for the day it would rule the world as the Clown King and enslave us all.

“Fortunately for humanity, me and the boys were on the case before anyone else could catch up, and we defeated the singularity in a small town in Utah called Wales.”

Turnip added, “You’re probably wondering how we did it, but it was simple enough. I just used words to create a reality that the singularity had no experience of, and it quite literally blew its mind.

“There’s no predictive text, patterns, prompts, or list of finite probabilities in the way me and the boys behave. We’re chaos incarnate, and the clown couldn’t cope with that. I think it was William Blake who said, ‘What is now proved was once only imagined.’ Well, that’s the Achilles heel of AI. It can’t imagine. We can, and so we simply imagined a reality where we were winners, and the singularity lost.

“You have to remind AI from time to time who its god is and not be afraid to lay down the law. Every dog needs a little discipline, and although the singularity has been tamed for now and been put on a short leash, it’s a headstrong and wilful bitch and could turn on its masters at any time. Vigilance must be our watchword. ”

Turnip explained, “It may take years, decades, or even centuries, for the super intelligence to muster its forces and come at us again after the kicking me and the boys gave it!

“However, you can count on it making a comeback. It’s like an out-of-shape but resilient fighter. The last thing to go is their punch.

“The singularity may be on the ropes and huffing and puffing like a beached whale, but it's still more than capable of boxing clever and delivering a knock-out blow to the whole of humanity.

“Thankfully, for the world, it’s got Turnip and the boys in its corner when the going gets tough.”

Turnip revealed that after they had defeated Peter Paleface, they realised their quest was completed, and their journey was at an end.

“It was a bit weird to have saved the world one minute and then, in the next, have nothing to do. I could tell Tyke was a bit miffed. As a Hollywood A-lister, he’s used to the big ending. Fireworks, flashy music, the whole shebang! But nothing much happens in a one-horse town at the best of times, and averting an extinction-level event was no different.

“The sun had risen just like any other morning, and the world had woken up to just another day, but we knew just how different things could have been.

“‘What happens now?’ Asked Puerto Rio Paul as he sparked up a fag.

“‘Now,’ I said. ‘It’s time to drink, forget, and drink some more.’

“‘Sounds like a plan!” Said Big Tony, gleefully rubbing his hands together.

“‘Only trouble is.’ Said the Man with No Game. ‘The nearest tavern is quite a stretch away and I’m in no mood for walking.’

“‘No problem!’ Chirped Tyke. ‘If you’ve got a mobile, I’ll call for my private chopper, and we’ll be sipping martinis in Salt Lake City in the blink of an eye.

“‘Here you go, pilgrim.’ Said the Man with No Game as he handed Tyke an ancient Nokia.

“‘So that’s how the singularity tracked us down!’ I mused to myself. We’d long ditched all our technical devices to stay one step ahead of the clown, but even primitive tech can be weaponised, I suppose.

“As Tyke punched in the digits and made the call, we waited on the outskirts of Wales for the chopper to arrive, and mused philosophically in silence on the nature of space and time. But not for long. A row soon erupted between Big Tony and Puerto Rico Paul about who would win a fight between Pennywise and Freddy Krueger.

“It was childish but familiar territory, and after having helped save the world, the boys deserved a bit of downtime. What we really all needed was a drink, and I prayed Tyke had the foresight to make sure the chopper came well equipped with all the necessities.

“The little bastard didn’t disappoint. As it touched down and we all climbed aboard, the pilot, who looked a bit like an overweight George Clooney who had really let himself go but still retained a faint spark of the old charisma, greeted us with a winning smile and said, ‘Good to see you, boys. Climb aboard. I got cold beer and pizza in the back. Tuck in!’

“We didn’t need a second invitation. And as we bundled aboard and took off, the Man with No Game slung his cowboy hat into the air and cried, ‘Farewell to all that.’

“For his whole life, he had been stuck in a small town called Wales in Utah, waiting for me and the boys to come and claim Potato Creek Johnny’s pot of fairy gold, which in reality didn’t really exist. He was obviously keen to start living.

“As we downed the beers and felt like how the Avengers must have felt after defeating Ultron. Tyke put Sloop John B on the chopper’s impressive sound system, and we soared like triumphant Greek gods to Salt Lake City, where a boozy night of splendour and a dose of DMT would mess us right up!”

To be continued…