Britain, a nation that gave the world the Magna Carta, parliamentary democracy, and the deep-fried Mars bar, has this week produced its finest contribution to jurisprudence yet: trying a fantasy novel for AI sorcery by submerging it in a bathtub. The fantasy author accused of AI involvement is one R.R.R. Stewart, whose best-selling epic King of the North now finds itself at the centre of a literary witch trial so magnificently unhinged it could only have originated in a country that still uses the word ‘whilst’.
Meet the AI-Finder General: A Man, a Bath, and a Pointy Em-Dash
The accuser in question is Lucius Hopkins, a man who has apparently appointed himself AI-Finder General, a job title that does not exist but absolutely should. Hopkins subjected King of the North to a rigorous scientific process that would make the original Witchfinder General weep with pride. First, he committed the volume to the bath. It neither sank nor shrivelled. Damning.
Not satisfied, Hopkins then pricked the book all over with the pointy end of an em-dash — a punctuation mark that, until now, had largely confined itself to subordinate clauses and passive-aggressive emails from middle management. The book did not flinch. Furthermore, Hopkins discovered what he calls ‘the rule of three’ on page 666, where Stewart allegedly writes of ‘heaving bosoms, Magick wands, and Large Language Models’. If that isn’t a confession, Hopkins implies, then he doesn’t know what is. He may be right about that last part.
The Publisher Responds With the Subtlety of a Trebuchet
Stewart’s publisher, the magnificently named Cod Latin Inc., has vehemently denied all accusations of AI sorcery. However, in the same breath — or perhaps the very next press release — they quietly removed every copy of King of the North from bookshops across the land. This is, of course, the corporate equivalent of saying ‘we absolutely did not eat the last biscuit’ whilst brushing crumbs from your lapel.
The publishing industry has been grappling with the rise of AI-generated content for some time now, with concerns growing about how readers, editors, and apparently bathtub-wielding inquisitors are supposed to tell the difference between human and machine-written prose. Consequently, what was once a niche anxiety among literary circles has become something of a full-blown cultural panic — one now apparently being litigated with household plumbing.
The Author Speaks: ‘It’s Just Generic Fantasy, Honestly’
R.R.R. Stewart, to his credit, has responded to the scandal on social media with what can only be described as spectacular understatement. ‘I know this looks bad guys,’ he wrote, ‘but honestly, it’s just another generic fantasy novel!’ This defence, while admirably candid, does raise the question of whether ‘generic’ is quite the shield he thinks it is when page 666 is exhibiting the linguistic fingerprints of ChatGPT.
Meanwhile, the broader debate about AI in literature rages on, with authors, agents, and readers all attempting to work out where human creativity ends and algorithmic convenience begins. It is, admittedly, a genuinely thorny issue — one that deserves serious consideration, rigorous tools, and perhaps some actual AI detection technology. Not a bathtub. Definitely not a bathtub.
What Have We Learned? Probably Nothing Good
The saga of the fantasy author accused of AI involvement reads, fittingly, like a fantasy novel itself — complete with a villain, a mysterious tome, arcane rituals, and a climax on page 666. Whether Stewart is guilty of outsourcing his imagination to a machine or merely guilty of writing something a bit derivative remains, for now, unresolved. However, one thing is abundantly clear: Lucius Hopkins has too much time on his hands, access to a very large bath, and an em-dash he is not afraid to use. Britain, as ever, is absolutely fine.
Read the original story at NewsBiscuit (Satire).
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