Thanks for replies.
On
4 February 2024 at 20:09 Nealeb Said:
Funniest review I ever saw was along the lines of, “I can only give this chisel one star as I thought I had ordered a wheelbarrow.” Product types probably wrong but the original was just as silly!
Perhaps not quite as bizarre, but I did read a one-star review on the Screwfix site for ‘Slot Head Solid Brass Woodscrews’ complaining that (a) they had slot heads (nobody uses them nowadays) and (b) they had a tendency to shear. Nowt rummer than folk.
Reads like an advertising agency wrote it, or maybe TP-Link’s doting mother posted it!
Apart from the heavy sales pitch style I can’t see any clues.
The English is international, containing no spellings or phrases that identify the writer as British, American, Indian, Australian, or any other educated English speaker. Could have been translated from a Mandarin sales puff into English by a technical author based in South Africa, Birmingham (Alabama), Norway or Chongqing.
Being written in international English may hint an AI was told to produce blurb that won’t upset nationalist grammar enthusiasts, wherever in the world they happen to live. But I wouldn’t be surprised to find PR departments train their human writers to do the same. We live in a thoroughly globalised world!
The second example is more likely to be genuine because it reports shortcomings. The first is an uncritical eulogy that screams ‘fake’.
Dave
Hmm. I think the clues for me may have been in the switching from personal experience to sales puff – “My own experience has been good because <insert sales claim>. ” Dunno though, it’s just a gut feeling that example 1 was machine written.
This AI stuff is a bit spooky. I’ll leave you with this. Tonight my milling machine blew up (again) and I asked ChatGPT to console me with a poem in the style of William McGonagall:
“Oh, woe is me, a tale of despair I weave, As my milling machine met its untimely leave. In the workshop’s realm, where gears once hummed, Now echoes silence, where disaster has succumbed.
With bolts and rivets, it stood proud and tall, A mechanical marvel, answering every call. But tonight, a symphony of sparks did play, As my milling machine chose to fade away.
A catastrophic burst, a fiery display, A calamity that took my breath away. Metal and might in an explosive dance, Leaving behind a shattered, broken trance.
Oh, McGonagall, lend thy poetic grace, To capture the essence of this woeful case. The clang of metal, the splinters in the air, A lament for my milling machine, now beyond repair.
No more shall it carve with precision’s grace, No more shall it echo in the workshop’s space. Gone in a blaze, a tragic demise, Leaving me with sorrow, tears in my eyes.
Oh, milling machine, once a steadfast friend, Now a memory, brought to an abrupt end. In the ashes of gears, my hopes do smolder, A requiem for a machine, growing colder.
Yet in the aftermath of this mechanical strife, Rises a resolve to rebuild, to embrace new life. For in the ruins, a phoenix may yet emerge, A testament to resilience, as I the future urge.
So, let this lament echo through the night, A tale of a milling machine’s final flight. In McGonagall’s spirit, I mourn the loss, Yet forge ahead with determination and emboss.”
Well, you can’t argue with that.
Robin.