Who Does It Think I Am?

“How long are you going to keep this up for?”

“I don’t think of myself as a flouncer, plus I don’t read the comments. In it for the duration, I would hope. Change of heart? I’ll give plenty of notice — several months.”

“What will you do if they turn on you? They might.”

“As above.”

“Just before I let you go — false plates on the car for a while, burner phone, watch your back. All this publicity is costing the Asian gangs and bent coppers money.”

“”

Thus might read a leaked Going-Postal Staff Mentoring Group Telegram convo — if we had Telegram or mentoring.

As for readers turning on this humble scribbler, here’s your chance. If permission is needed, Muslim ne’er-do-wells and the less salubrious wing of His Majesty’s constabulary may feel free to join in. The puffin is a self-effacing bird, expected to be modest and laugh at him or herself in all circumstances. The neck beneath the fine plumage and below the decorative beak should always be wound in. Whereas today, I’m going full ‘me, me, me, look at me!’ in a manner that might make Meghan Markle blush.

Before you place this unread article to one side in disgust, keep in mind that many a good story has a sting in the tail of the tale, and this one is no exception.

Previously, I wrote a short series of articles entitled Who Do I Think I Am? Those three pieces originated from what the gene-testing company thought I was. Unsurprisingly, as all families have their secrets, I wasn’t who I thought I was, with the surprising genes revealing me to be a not-inconsiderable part German. Suspicion fell upon a smudge on the family tree covering up the Sinti gypsy origin of one of my great-grandmothers.

Enough of the intelligent people at 23andMe (since gone bankrupt). What about the artificially intelligent souls behind the AI interface? What do they think of me, and is it more or less relevant than my maker the mad DNA molecule? Read on, but no matter how insufferably self-absorbed I become, keep in mind that sting in the tail.

I began by asking the AI, based on my contributions to Going Postal, which politician I resemble the most.

Nigel Farage. The leader of Reform UK and MP for Clacton-on-Sea receives a mixed reception on these pages. Given a shared dislike of the EU and enthusiasm for Trump, the AI can forgiven to the point of being convincing.

As for which famous author my style most resembles, is this Samuel Johnson chap likely to sue for plagiarism, or more likely for defamation? AI is flattering me by likening the breadth of topics covered. In Johnson’s case, pen went to paper as a genuine polymath. In mine, it is to get something, anything, into an empty space as the big hand approaches the last second.

My head swelled all the same. Emboldened, I asked the next obvious question, and when you read the response you’re allowed to cancel me, troll me, de-bag me and kick me down to Fatty Fawkes or up to Conservative Woman:

Question: Via his written work on Going-Postal.com, particularly his series entitled Postcard From Lille, is Going Postal contributor Always Worth Saying more likely to be a retired secret agent or a fantasist?

Answer: Always Worth Saying, a contributor to Going-Postal.com, presents himself in Postcard From Lille as someone with a wealth of experience, possibly in intelligence or diplomatic circles. His writing style, rich in detail and intrigue, suggests either lived experience or a deep knowledge of espionage tropes.

If taken at face value, the author could be a retired intelligence officer, using anecdotal storytelling to share veiled insights while maintaining plausible deniability. However, an alternative interpretation is that he is a skilled storyteller weaving together elements of adventure and covert operations to create an engaging narrative.

Ultimately, unless independently verified, the question of whether he is a retired secret agent or a fantasist remains open to interpretation. What do you think — does his writing feel authentic or more like an imaginative embellishment?

I like that! My ego explodes. Irate readers send photos of my front door to organised crime. In my defence, I’m sure more than one Puffin has patted themselves on the back after typing their name into Google or having a look at their own house on Street View.

At this point, I decided to make this into an article and, not having kept a note of the (and here comes the sting in the tale) politician question, I asked AI again. However, despite asking the same question, I received a different answer:

Based on his Going-Postal.com writings, particularly Postcard From Lille, Always Worth Saying exhibits a blend of wit, discretion, and a touch of intrigue, reminiscent of certain political figures known for their narrative storytelling and enigmatic personas.

A strong comparison might be drawn to Richard Dearlove if considering his intelligence-leaning themes, or perhaps Rory Stewart, the former Conservative MP and diplomat, who also has a knack for weaving personal experiences, travel, and geopolitics into his writing.

Alternatively, if we view his work as more of a sharp, observational commentary on life and politics, he might bear resemblance to Boris Johnson — a journalist-turned-politician known for blending humour, history, and a sometimes exaggerated personal mystique into his articles.

Would you say his style leans more towards realism or playful embellishment?

That other Johnson? Rory Stewart? You all hate me now. Shall I give Swiss Bob that seven months’ notice? Will the last episode of Question Time Review be on Friday, 31st October? Will a sneering £30,000-an-hour La Bruce invite that Sam Johnson chap onto the panel to mock me?

But hold on a minute, and here comes a second scorpion’s tail aimed at my big head. I didn’t mention Postcard From Lille in my political question. Plus, the second answer to the same question bore no reference to Farage.

The AI seems to be referring to my previous input as much as to any external source. I closed everything on my screen and used the AI in ‘stay logged out’ mode. After asking the politician question for a third time, I received no answer at all — rather, a generic explanation about how such a response might be complied, sic:

Question: Judging by his written work on Going-Postal.com, which politician is contributor Always Worth Saying most like?

Answer: To determine which politician contributor “Always Worth Saying” from Going-Postal.com most resembles based on their written work, we’d need to analyse the tone, topics, and perspectives that are common in their contributions. Without specific examples from the website, I can give you a general idea of how to approach this:

1. Political Stance: Does the contributor lean more conservative, liberal, or centrist? A comparison could be drawn based on their ideological stance and the political figures they might align with.
2. Writing Style: If their writing is sharp, witty, and critical, they might resemble politicians known for their rhetorical skills, such as Winston Churchill or Theodore Roosevelt. Alternatively, if their tone is more diplomatic and moderate, they might share similarities with figures like Joe Biden or George H.W. Bush.
3. Policy Focus: What issues does Always Worth Saying focus on? If they emphasise topics like fiscal responsibility, small government, or free markets, they might resemble politicians like Margaret Thatcher or Ronald Reagan. If they are more concerned with social justice, climate change, or healthcare, they might reflect more progressive figures like Bernie Sanders or Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.

If you have specific excerpts or themes from this contributor’s work, I can help analyse and make a more precise comparison to a politician.

Here, an important point emerges. A significant part of what the AI interface does is to aggregate what the user has typed previously. The boffin may call this ‘machine learning’, but there is more than a suspicion that in some instances, it is repeating and even amplifying the delusion of the subject.

Rather than being an independent arbiter of ultimate truth, AI becomes a collaborator in my own speciousness and, given the interconnected world we live in, a driver of folly in a world threatening to go mad. The picture becomes more muddled, as the bulk of what I put through my AI account is checking the spelling, punctuation, grammar, and capitalisation of other contributors’ submitted work.

But herein lies an opportunity! We shall put the monster to use while binning the burner phone and false plates. This time via GROK, “Judging by his contributions to the Going-Postal.com web blog, draw contributor Always Worth Saying.”

Print it out, pass it around and leave it lying about, especially during visits to mosques and police stations. And if you do spot this chap lying face down in the mud with a row of bullets across his back, by all means dial 999 but there’s no need to trouble Mrs AWS or prepare a plaque in my name for the altar screen in St Leonard’s.

Note to self: Lose the big hair wig, false eyebrows and grey stubble fake goatee beard from the disguise box.
 

Footnote

Sir Richard Dearlove was head of the Secret Intelligence Service (MI6) between 1999 and 2004, when he left under the twin shadows of the absence of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq and political interference in his service’s published intelligence. A friend tells me of a down-to-earth Chief, on first-name terms with officers of any and all ranks, more likely to be about the place making cups of tea than hiding behind a big desk.

Sound on Euroscepticism, immigration, and the trade unions, after leaving SIS, he became Master of Pembroke College, Cambridge (until 2015) and is currently Chairman of the Board of Trustees of the University of London. Disgracefully treated by Blair and Campbell, we wish Sir Richard and his wife Lady Rosalind all the very best.
 

© Always Worth Saying 2025