Tag: Munich

When AI f*cks up: or Why I shouldn’t play with dolls

Posted on by SW
Exhibit A – “…apart from giving me serious bonsai-d serial-killer vibes and adding about 37 years…”

So lemming-like I jumped on the social media bandwagon and created (or attempted to create) an AI Barbie-style doll of myself with ChatGPT.

DISCLAIMER: I have fully embraced AI. 

I’m not a decrepit dinosaur who thinks AI is going to kill us like Hal 9000 in 2001: A Space Odyssey.

Though having said that, technology has tried to kill my wife and I numerous times.

Several times driving over the Sydney Harbour Bridge the satellite navigation has ordered me to “TURN LEFT NOW!” as we were smack-bang in the middle of the bridge.

If I had followed its advice we would’ve become slightly wet. 

We have also been encouraged to drive straight into the wall of a tunnel.

My wife and I now call any satnav appliance or Siri “Sybil” after the book and TV film about a woman with 16 personalities.

*DISCLAIMER: I am not suggesting in any shape or form people burdened with multiple personalities try to get people to drive off the Sydney Harbour Bridge or harm anyone in any shape or form.

Phew. Got that in just in time.

I also don’t believe AI is going to take all of our jobs, leaving us in a zombie holocaust state.

Seriously, the possibilities of AI are endless and exciting.

As a writer, I view AI as a rather shiny tool in the shed… I use it for research, to brainstorm and refine my work. 

Perplexity is my go-to instead of Google to search for anything. You get succinct answers with references, as opposed to 92,000 random websites.

I might be old-school, but I never get AI to actually write anything.
That’s what I’m being paid to do, and (gets trumpet out to blow)AI just can’t do what I do……………….. yet.

So back to Barbie. I fired up ChatGPT aka Sybil, attached a photo and entered the prompt: 

“Create an action figure toy of the person in this photo. The figure should be a full figure and displayed in its original blister pack. Add accessories of an iMac, and old-fashioned postcards of Sydney, Singapore, Bangkok, Munich and Hong Kong. Add the name ‘Beef William’ at the top of the pack.”

Not too taxing, one would’ve thought… after all, ChatGPT is very good at calculating tariffs.

Your Honour, I present Exhibit A, the photo of my action figure.

First, the good-ish bits… apart from giving me serious bonsai-d serial-killer vibes and adding about 37 years and massive hands, Sybil did get the outfit right based on my photo and the iMac is correct. 

Now the hilarious bits.

Sybil mustn’t get out much. Having lived in Sydney, Singapore, Bangkok, Munich and Hong Kong, I thought I would include retro-looking postcards of each city.

That’s where the plan fell to the ground.

Sybil totally ignored Sydney and Bangkok. 

Singapore became “Snpnah”, which has a certain ring to it and a few correct letters.

She also added an apostrophe: “Singa’pore” which is actually how British people pronounce it… “Singa-pore”.

This is usually followed by a very colonial reference to “out there” and “the far east”, while sipping another Pimm’s.

The random tower Sybil added to the right of Marina Bay Sands just screams Snpnah.

“Munich” became “Munchn”. Maybe Sybil had eins beer too many at Oktoberfest, though it is close-ish to the German pronunciation, “München”.

She got “Hong Kong” right, but added a weird European vista. 

Bizarrely, “Beef William” is correct. 

“Beef William” is my alter-ego, the reason for which is another story… 

P.S. I asked AI to “get feedback on the content” of this piece and Sybil gave me some very helpful suggestions… in Spanish.

©Steve Williams 2025

A love letter to Sydney…

Posted on by SW

So. I’ve moved back to Sydney after living overseas since way back in 2005.

Looks like someone’s god is about to speak

Apart from family and friends, in no particularly order, here are a few things I’ve missed in almost 19 years living away… my Sydney love letter.

*Kookaburras… with the wombat, the kookaburra is a rather underrated Australian icon compared to the kangaroo and koala, but we kind of like it that way.

*The sky… the Sydney/Australian sky is absolutely breathtaking. That blue…

*The Harbour Bridge… although I’ve driven/trained/walked over the Bridge a gazillion times, it always feels like the first time. I often think of my grandmother who walked across the Bridge the day it opened on Saturday March 19, 1932, wearing an outfit she had specially made for the occasion. She even took her shoes off and carried them as her feet were hurting. Unheard of in 1932!

*Wendy Whiteley’s Secret Garden… but shhhhhh… don’t tell anyone.

*Sandstone… the look and texture. The “Sandstone Precinct” on Bridge St featuring the Lands and Education Department Buildings is one of my favourite parts of the city. The former Education Department building has been transformed into the stunning Capella Sydney hotel. 

*The Australian humour… irony, sarcasm… taking the piss. Love it.

*The Royal Botanic Garden Sydney… Sydney’s magnificent backyard. Though it could do with losing the word “Royal”.

*Rainbow Lorikeets… those random, screeching flashes of colour.

*The beaches… all of them… but I’m looking at you, Balmoral, Whale and Palm. Though I don’t love Balmoral when you hire a car on a scorching summer Saturday, get there at 7.45am, spend 40 minutes trying to find a parking with no luck. Peak Sydney.

*Food, glorious food. Sydney’s dining scene is incredible… from a succulent Chinese meal to any cuisine you can think of.

*The Sydney Cricket Ground… though I do miss the old scoreboard.

*Sydney ferries… the best way to travel. Being on a (Manly) ferry as it cuts its way to Circular Quay, or anywhere in Sydney Harbour is always a wonderful experience. But I do miss the old-school ferries.

*The Opera House… those pristine, sparkling white sails mask the controversy that marred the design and construction. It really is incredible… as are the performances I’ve seen inside.

*Seafood… a veritable smorgasbord. Just don’t come the raw prawn, er, mate.

*Australian wine… I’m rather un-Australian in that I’m not a beer drinker. It’s great living here and not having to pay a billionty dollars for brilliant Australian wine.

*The Elizabeth Street entrance to St. James station… the famed Château Tanunda neon sign has been there since 1926.

*Friendliness… going for an early morning walk and people nodding, saying “Morning”. You miss that.

*Sydney Harbour… absolutely every single thing about it.

*Hyde Park… smack bang in the CBD… the fig tree-lined avenues, the spectacular, mythical Archibald Fountain featuring Apollo, Diana and his mates.

*Taronga Zoo… definitely a zoo with a view.

*The kulcha… art galleries, theatres (special mention to the magnificent State Theatre and the vertigo-inducing Theatre Royal), museums, music venues… etc, etc.

As that old song by Tommy Leonetti goes, “My warm city of Sydney / I’ve never been away.”

©Steve Williams 2023

World Cup soccer… the beautiful game? Nah.

Posted on by SW

I’ve never really been into soccer… sorry… football. Actually, f*ck it, I call it soccer.

Definitely not my soccer trophy, they didn’t have participation medals back in the day

My soccer experience was limited on the field… sorry… pitch… to a season in the Under 6 minus Zs, where I was tried in every position except as part of the goal posts, which I would have been very good at if I was a bit taller. The games consisted of a manic scrum of kids swarming around the ball like cranky seagulls around a hot chip, randomly kicking at air, the other kids’ ankles and very occasionally the ball. Passing and positions were non-existent. I was quite happy being left right out.

My soccer career later moved to the stage, where I had a religious experience when cast in a high school play about football hooliganism called Zigger Zagger. I was the “Football Fan Vicar”. From hazy memory the role involved pontificating biblical passages infused with soccer references. I wasn’t converted. To either soccer or religion.

DISCLAIMER: I admit I know less than zero about the tactics of soccer, but I can’t deal with the pathetic milking-a-penalty-by-rolling-around-on-the-ground-in agony-after-not-even-being-touched-before-jumping-up-five-seconds-later-shit. Maybe Jesus does perform soccer miracles after all… they say he saves, so why not? FIFA should introduce a rule that If a player is on the ground, they should be euthanised on the pitch, like they do with those poor Melbourne Cup racehorses. That would make it interesting and stop the bullshit penalties.

Soccer is apparently called the “beautiful game”. NFI why. Passing the ball backwards sometimes right back to the goalkeeper has me yelling “FFS THE GOAL IS THAT WAY!! Then there are the nil-all draws. Boring AF. It’s the equivalent of watching a cricket test that ends in a dull draw, without the bad acting.

Also, WTF is it about taking maritime distress signals… flares… to a game of soccer… or worse, where fans are only watching a game on a big screen thousands of kilometres away from where the game is actually being played. The other night quite a few people were injured at live viewing sites around Australia, including a woman who received an involuntary haircut thanks to a flare-wielding moron. Who was the first person to bring a flare to a soccer game… was it a mistake? Did it happen to be left over in their bag after some nautical voyage and they thought my team just scored, so why not?

I may not understand soccer at all, but I really love the passion (obsession) displayed by fans (apart from the flares). You really can’t compare it to any other sport.

My Croatian-born wife and I were lucky enough to be in Croatia during the last few games of the 2018 World Cup and it was amazing, an incredible experience. We watched the semi final against England with family from Sydney in an Italian restaurant in Makarska… as you do, which was heaving. Such a great atmosphere. When Croatia scored their two goals and eventually won, the place absolutely went off. The one table of English types quietly gave themselves the red card and skulked away before the full-time whistle. Unfortunately Croatia’s loss to France in the final led to a more subdued atmosphere, but the pride in their team was palpable. So glad we were there to experience it.

We also witnessed the passion when we lived in Munich during two World Cups. When Germany won in 2014, fans poured into the streets, singing and dancing and letting off fireworks and we actually witnessed the rare sight of Bavarians smiling. It was stark contrast to the 2018 World Cup when Germany didn’t make it past the group stage… tumble weeds and crickets… and business as usual for the cranky Bavarians. It would have been the same this year.

I’m still not converted to soccer, but I’ll be definitely watching the final on December 18, sans flares.

©Steve Williams 2022

You belong to the city

Posted on by SW

London. A few weeks ago.

“Would you like to go to a disco with me? Or if not, how about the movies? Maybe we could see Toy Story 4.”

Possibly the disco in mind

Both interesting options, with pros and cons, the major con being my wife and I had never met the English gentleman asking the question. He was a random bloke on the street who just came up to us.

After giving our profuse apologies, (though I was very tempted to see what old mate had in store for the “disco” option) we went on our way.

London is like that. You never know who you’re going to encounter as you wander. Like Bangkok. There was an elderly Thai couple that would busk on our street. He would play a MacGyvered string instrument and back his wife’s lead vocals. They had a prime spot out the front of a Starbucks and we would always give them some baht, which was always returned with a nod and a smile mid-song.

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Every city has characters. Our first time in Paris quite a few years ago, we were having dinner in a bistro in a residential area, and a striking gentleman (quite possibly homeless, apologies monsieur if you are not) wandered past. He was dressed in an amazing coat (no, not technicolour), accessorised with an old school cassette recorder around his neck, attached with a piece of rope. All very très très chic and reminiscent of the very non-PC fashion line in the Zoolander movie… Derelicte.

I have encountered many characters in Sydney as well. Martin Place in the city’s CBD seems to be a magnet. One bloke would yell “GARN GET FUCKED!!” at everyone, yet no one in particular. Another would quote Shakespeare in an extremely resonant, thespian style… I would contribute the odd line if he forgot and I happened to remember.

Then there’s the bloke in Munich who prefers to live in a mobile phone shop doorway, a busker who plays the pan flute and stands out not only in his herbal, hippy outfits, but is the only burgher in the city who has a smile on his face.

To misquote the old TV show Naked City, there are eight million stories in the naked city. These have been just a few of them.

©Steve Williams 2020