At the next junction, turn into a gender-neutral Satnav voice

How often do you find yourself shouting “stupid woman” at your Sat Nav? It’s rare that anyone changes the gender of their various voice assistants to male. Somehow being exasperated at Siri, Alexa or the poor woman telling you to take the next left — TAKE THE NEXT LEFT! — is easier if she’s a she, which is doing little to discourage society’s pervasive chauvinism.

I’ll be switching to Q, the world’s first genderless voice assistant, if and when it’s adopted by the big tech firms. Q was created from a collection of voices from people who neither identified as male or female, and then was altered to sound gender-neutral (between 145Hz and 175Hz if you’re interested).

My friend Kate Devlin, a computer scientist and author of Turned On: Science, Sex and Robots, told me: “We know there is no scientific reason for the majority of conversational AIs to have a female voice. It seems more like Silicon Valley tech bros trying to recreate their mothers. Q is a great example of trying to change this narrative.”

A Q-like “neutral” voice is what I think most people with a London accent aim for, as it allows us social agility in navigating life in the capital. I personally thank my education at an inner-city comprehensive for sculpting my posh high-pitched way of speaking in Year Seven, into something lower and inoffensively classless by the end of sixth form (and for being able to convincingly use the phrase “innit tho” if necessary). Yet still I cringe at the sound of my own voice.

This common affliction is called “voice confrontation” and is the result of hearing our own voice conducted internally through our bones and being shocked by how much higher pitched it sounds when played back. I’ve just been asked to record the audio version of my book and I shudder at the thought. Maybe I’ll commission Q to read it for me.

Strangers are dropping in to flirt

Air-dropping images to strangers in public places is London’s new favourite way of flirting. While one male friend accidentally downloaded unwanted dick pics on the platform at Oxford Circus, another was charmed by the person sending her cute dogs at Shoreditch High Street.

At the British Library recently I had someone try to Air Drop Renaissance nudes onto my MacBook as I was working, which at least seemed a contextually appropriate come-on, given that we were in the arts and humanities reading room. If such unsolicited image-sharing bothers you be sure to change your settings. But where’s the fun in that?

I salute TV’s mega-babe marriage...

I think I am the only person still swooning over Lily James marrying Alicia Vikander in Friday’s Comic Relief Four Weddings sequel. I was expecting Twitter to be awash with pride flags and heart-eye emojis, but most people seemed mildly entertained at best.

On the whole it barely registered. This could mean I don’t follow the right people, as any woman even slightly off centre on the Kinsey scale can’t help but have enjoyed the moment these mega-babes shared a kiss on primetime TV; or maybe now everyone’s seen The Favourite, it’s just not that big a deal any more.

I should be happy that a lesbian wedding isn’t seen as anything special. But it was special to me: two women getting married wasn’t presented as the joke, it was the emotional heart of the piece — and that feels like progress.

... now for a Four Gay Weddings sequel!

Last week the Civil Partnerships, Marriages and Deaths Bill passed its final stage in Parliament, meaning straight couples now have the same right as gay couples to seal their commitment to each other without the pomp and ceremony of a marriage, but by signing a few papers.

This is a step forward for equality — if gay people can get married, why can’t heterosexuals have civil partnerships?

I imagine Richard Curtis is rewriting that feature-length Four Gay Weddings and a Straight Civil Partnership sequel as we speak.