Frances Millar

To be frank...

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THE first time I remember muttering to myself, “Christ, technology has gone too far,” was about 10 years ago.

It was rush hour on the London Underground and a youngish lad sitting next to me was engrossed in his phone.

So I glanced over to have a nose, as you do, and was alarmed to see he was watching Seven. That gruesome horror where detective Brad Pitt finds Gwyneth Paltrow’s head in a box - on his commute home, in a packed Tube carriage.

Today, I had another of those “Stop the ride! I’m going to be sick” moments after tumbling down an AI rabbit hole and landing in a circle of hell so bleak, that even Dante couldn’t have envisioned a pit so utterly soulless.

I'd been reading about Katie Price signing a six-figure deal to trademark her own AI avatar: a walking, talking, bouncing virtual version of her younger alter-ego, Jordan. This hyper-realistic chatbot even speaks in her harsh, flat-toned voice. With nothing off limits, fans can ask the former Page 3 star anything their loin desires.