Tuesday, 21 May 2019

Robot cats

Or something. I don't know what’s going on. I haven't even read it properly. 'Read what, boss?' The PR email, Voice. Uh. I've got things on my mind, man. I'm thinking about Cornwall. I'm thinking about music. I'm not thinking about artificial cats, or intelligent cats, or digital cats, or whatever.

Dear Michael,

Exciting news! Felcana has just announced that it will collaborate with cult café Lady Dinah's Cat Emporium, to help monitor the health and behaviour of rescue cats.

Well, whatever!

Based in Central London, Felcana combines state-of-the-art artificial intelligence, machine learning and veterinary expertise into an integrated digital pet care platform. Felcana's products and apps connect owners with their pets through premium wearables and AI-based technology, giving users on-demand veterinary advice and critical insights into their pet's well-being. Using Felcana, owners can better look after their pets' health.

Christ! Is this necessary? Come on! How have cats survived for millions of years?

Oh, here's the finance bit -

Felcana has just launched a new fundraising campaign on leading equity crowdfunding platform, Seedrs, to raise £80,000. Fresh investment will support Felcana in commercializing their digital pet care platform and in driving revenue through new product sales and commission.

Seedrs? Apparently, my old mate Neil is involved -

Seedrs is backed by star fund manager Neil Woodford, Faber Ventures, Augmentum Fintech PLC (listed on the London Stock Exchange Main Market and Europe's largest listed fintech fund) and over 2,000 of its own customers. Seedrs is authorized and regulated by the UK Financial Conduct Authority.

Okay, okay. Well, I guess I wish them all the best with it. 'Do you, boss?' Of course, Voice! It would be churlish not to. However, I will just ask that question again ...

How have cats survived for millions of years?



Anything else? Oh, yeah. Listen! I've been thinking that I've been to Cornwall twenty-three times in the last thirty-two years. Damn! I wish it could have been more, you dig? I'm obsessed with the place, man. / The shortest holiday was only three days. I turned up in St Ives in summer without a place booked. Big mistake! Also, I sprained my ankle within an hour of arrival. I didn't let it hold me back though. I just stormed into the nearest pub - The Sloop Inn, actually - with the sort of confidence I rarely have. I was determined to enjoy those three days! / The longest, as you know, kook(s), was the eight weeks from January to March 1991 in Looe/Polperro. (Trelawne, to tell you the truth.) I'd sell my soul to the devil to go to St Ives now for eight weeks. 'Seriously, boss?!' Well, I don't know, Voice. Maybe not. / You need rock star money to go for eight weeks these days. But rock stars have no privacy. Maybe I need songwriter money ... ? Or ... Malibu. Yes, Malibu might be the best option. I'll get a big house like Jackie Treehorn's. (As I've said before. As I'll keep saying.) I'll have parties on the beach. I'm not sure I'll wear a white suit. It's not really my style. / Oh, oh, listen!!! I reckon I'll be really popular in Malibu once people have heard my song Malibu. I mean, it's the best song about California. 'What about the hotel one?' Er, yes, a great song, sure, but ... I prefer mine. 'Well, you would!' Exactly!