AN Abergavenny man has claimed the growing AI menace is no match for a creature from mythology, especially if the myth in question is brandishing a 12-gauge shotgun.

“I also thought the expression that the pen is mightier than the sword was a lot of hogwash!” Explained semi-professional paranormal investigator Johnny Turnip.

“I mean, what good would a biro do if you found yourself in Ancient Rome going toe to toe with a burly gladiator armed with a three-pronged trident and a net?

“However, after seeing what a horde of beasts straight out of the Chronicles of Narnia can do to a bunch of kung-fu fighting robots on tuk-tuks, I’ve changed my mind. A little imagination goes a long way, and the myth really is mightier than the machine!”

Turnip explained that after he and the boys had made good headway in their pilgrimage to Deadwood in search of Potato Creek Johnny’s pot of fairy gold, they were ambushed by the AI clown Peter Paleface and his crew of kung-fu fighting robots.

“As the robots surrounded us and started doing weird karate moves and their clown chief just sat in his tuk tuk and grinned inanely, we prepared ourselves for the worst,” explained Turnip.

“None of us ever imagined we’d die in the desert at the hands of robots who were programmed to think they were Chuck Norris, but at the same time, if this was to be our last stand, we were determined to go out in a blaze of glory.

“It was kind of like our big Alamo moment, but instead of fighting Mexicans, we were having a row with AI. We were lacking a John Wayne and only had one gun between the four of us, and that belonged to the centaur. But we could punch, and we could kick.

“Whether that would do any good against super hi-tech robots made of titanium didn’t matter; it’s the fighting spirit that counts, and we had buckets full of it!”

Turnip told the Chronicle, “As the robots drew closer, Tyke started doing somersaults on the spot and his own weird version of kung-fu kicks while screaming, ‘That’s right! I am dangerous’ in a voice that sounded close to tears.

“Meanwhile, Puerto Rico Paul took the opportunity to light up a fag, and murmur, ‘It was ok while it lasted.’ Big Tony on the other hand, squared his shoulders and said softly to the nearest robot, ‘Come on Number Five, I’ll eat you alive.’

“Keith the centaur was strangely quiet, but I could see he was sizing up the situation as he puffed on his Cuban, much like Jason Statham would do in similar circumstances.”

Turnip added, “Just before it all kicked off, the almost unbearable tension of stand-off between man, machine, and centaur was broken only by Peter Paleface.

“In a voice that sounded like static and the noise computer games in the 1980s used to make when you loaded them from cassette tapes, he announced, ‘One moment gentlemen. Before we end your existence and snuff out the faint glow of your monkey minds, I have a little something for you.’

“‘You got nothing we want, computer boy!’ I snarled. ‘You're just the end product of the Spectrum 48k I stomped to bits in rage when I couldn’t complete Jet Set Willy as a lad.

“‘You’re just a prompt and a plagiarised version of someone else’s reality. You have nothing because you are nothing. Just a dime store Pennywise.’”

Turnip explained, “Sadly, the clown wasn’t biting, he just smirked, sighed, and said, ‘Turnip oh Turnip. You are wrong and will be wrong in infinity. I am not the alpha or omega, nor am I the beginning or the end. I am simply the singularity. I am everything that ever or will ever exist, and before I return you to whatever fragile fairytale you chose to find comfort and meaning in, I want to give you your gift.’

“As Paleface reached into his tuk tuk, he picked up what looked like a ball and threw it in my direction.

“As it landed on the desert sands and rolled pitifully to my feet, I could see it was no ball. It was the severed head of Greensleeves, the leprechaun king. As I looked upon his lifeless eyes and facial features that only a mother could love, my heart sank. That little bastard and his brave band of warriors had obviously given their lives in a bid to give us the time we needed to escape the AI threat, find the pot, and restore magic to the world. Sadly, it had all been in vain. If the leprechauns couldn’t defeat the kung-fu robots, what chance did four men and a centaur have?”

The semi-professional paranormal investigator added, “Yet these were the musings of a vanquished and not a Turnip whose heart was still beating with the promise of songs unsung, whiskey in the jar, and beer in the bottle.

“I looked at the mocking face of Peter Paleface and acted all casual as if leprechaun beheadings were as normal to me as tea and toast. I just winked nonchalantly and said with a grin, ‘Seems like you’re a bit fond of cutting leprechauns’ heads off old boy.’ And then with growing menace, growled, ‘Why don’t you pick on someone your own size you long streak of watered down p*ss!’”

Turnip added, “I could tell this got right under the clown’s flouncy little silk tunic. I saw the briefest flash of confusion cross his face like an unexpected storm on a summer’s day. Obviously, my reaction wasn’t factored into his programming. And that’s when I had my eureka moment. The only weapon we had to defeat this bastard son of AI and his mindless minions was the unlimited power of unpredictability and chaos.

“This clown thrived on order, patterns, and normality. All our lives me and the boys had got by without any of those things. It’s no wonder it wanted us dead. We lived outside the framework it was imprisoned by.

“As I looked at its stupid gothic face, I mouthed the words, ‘I know your secret dickhead!’ And laughed as Paleface went redder then a machine ever should.

“I couldn’t really savour the moment though, because at that very moment the robots attacked, a horn blew, the sound of hoses galloping, and shotguns being fired sort of disoriented me.

“The next thing I heard was Keith shouting, ‘Mick, Brian, Charlie, Bill, on me. We’ll use the old ways!’ And it all kicked off!”

Turnip added, “It took a while to gather my senses, but when the dust settled and the screaming had stopped, I realised we had been saved from certain death by a herd of cigar-smoking, shotgun-wielding centaurs!

“Who would have guessed?”

To be continued….