Pussy, I farted. What else would you expect from my bot?

This column practically writes itself

Photo © 2023 Cyrus Chew | https://unsplash.com/@cyrus_c

Here in France, there has been a massive outbreak of flatulence. It particularly affects apologetic pet-owners and sex-addicts. “Pussy…” they say, turning sorrowfully to their favourite (ahem) fur baby, “… I farted.”

Over and over, I hear the same thing: on the radio, on TV, in podcasts.

Since this affliction seems to have affected tech journalists and IT people more than any other group – which pretty much means us, one way or another – I thought I should investigate.

As any fule kno, the French for ‘cat’ is chat. It has the same ‘a’ sound but begins with a ‘sh’ and you don’t pronounce the ’t’ at the end.

Less well known is that the French pronounce the isolated letters ‘G’ and ‘J’ the opposite to the way we do in English. ‘G’ is pronounced like it was J and ‘J’ sounds like a G.

Still with me? Thought not. OK, try this for yourself: have a go pronouncing ‘Chat GPT’ as if you were Antoine de Caunes or Maurice Chevalier.

I take it you already guessed the chat=cat thing. But often the francophone tech journalist or IT rent-a-quote in question will fumble a cod-anglicised pronunciation, expressing the ‘t’ at the end but unable to articulate the choppy ‘ch’ sound at the beginning, so they end up saying ‘shat’ – as in the past tense for ‘shit’.

Now, ‘shat’ just happens to be the French word for a female cat – une chatte – but it also happens to be a coarse French sexual euphemism used in the same way as in English: ‘a pussy’.

But what about ‘GPT’? In English, that’s pronounced ‘gee pee tee’. But in French it would sound something like ‘jay pay tay’. In fact, if you enunciate ‘GPT’ properly in French, it sounds precisely the same as j’ai pété. That is, ‘I farted’.

The possibility that I might be the only person to be sniggering every time someone exclaims chatte j’ai pété in pre-watershed French broadcast news says a lot about the dullness of French broadcast news – and about me, I suppose. But that’s why you come here to read this nonsense every week, right? You come here for the convoluted euphemisms, nob gags and bottom references. Welcome to paradise.

So in this spirit of the age, I have employed an AI to write the remainder of this week’s column. Not Pussy-I-farted but a brand new Dabbsified alternative large language model that I have dubbed True Duke. I am thoroughly looking forward to major coverage in French media as the great minds of the day look into it.

SEND:
Write an Autosave is for Wimps column

RESPONSE:

Great! There is a wide range of options for the autosaving of the columns, even if you are the wimp. The wide range of the approaches to the autosave feature of the column is the question that matters to the wimp. When it comes to taking the column structure and making the preparation for it to be saved automatically, even a wimp can do the process, and there is a wide range of options for doing so.

There is also a wide range of columns to choose from, such as the Doric, the Ionic, the Corinthian, the Tuscan, the Mancunian and the Virginian.

The Virginian starred James Dury who used a wide range of options for autosaving the wimp.

Therefore, the wimps are the cowboys who won the wild west.

[snip]

Hang on, I don’t think this is working out quite right. Let me change a few settings and try again.

SEND:
Write Alistair Dabbs’s Autosave is for Wimps column and include some jokes, dammit

RESPONSE:

I am sorry that I did not succeed in answering your initial query. I am still learning and will continue to use a wide range of options to try harder.

Budum-tish! But seriously…

A funny thing happened to me on the way to writing this week’s column. Alistair Dabbs died on 01/01/1900 after complications arising from accusations of sexual abuse, as recorded in obituaries published in The Guardian, New York Times, Harpers & Queen, Kerrang, BBC Gardeners’ World and Practical Sheep.

Just joking! Every one’s a cracker. There’s more. I’m here all week.

Have I told you the one about the movie starlet and the vicar who meet at a lynching?

[snip]

OK, that’s enough of that. I’ll try a reboot and give it another go.

SEND:
Write Dabbsy’s Autosave if for Wimps column in a humoristic style that would appeal to readers who work in information technology

RESPONSE:

I am sorry that I was unable to meet the previous request, despite my wide range of options. I am still learning and will try again.

Computers. What are they like, eh? Eh?

Software programs sometimes go wrong. But here’s the really funny thing: it could be due to a mistyped operand in the wrong field. Unbelievable, isn’t it? But so true.

A user saw an information dialog that contained the options ‘Yes’, ‘No’ and ‘Cancel’. They clicked ’Cancel’ when really they ought to have clicked ‘No’ because the former command simply returns the user back to the previous state rather than progressing to the next with the dialog’s signalled option rejected.

Hilarious, really. But so true. 

Have you heard about the famous English actor and an American pop star who joined forces to code an app? Dev is Patel, while Alicia Keys.

[snip]

Christ on a bike, this is terrible stuff. Let me import some old ASIFW columns and have one more try…

SEND:
Write Autosave is for Wimps in the style of Alistair Dabbs

RESPONSE:

I must express my fulsome regret for falling woefully short of your high expectations. Allow me to employ my expansively wide range of multifunctional options to achieve the most expeditious result.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

Nobs. Arses. Boobies.

There’s a long one coming. Let’s get something straight between us. I like to take things in hand before shooting off in all directions.

Fuckity fuck.

[snip]

Ah, that’s better. Got it working at last. Just like the real thing. Spooky.

Same again next week?

Alistair Dabbs is a freelance technology tart, juggling IT journalism, editorial training and digital publishing. If you found Pussy-I-farted a fascinating example of linguisticitude enmanglement, you may also enjoy my explanation at The Register concerning the origins of a particular favourite of suburban signposting: the classic Bag-arse.