UK Government Declares Open Season on Artists: “Your Work is Ours, Love and Kisses, AI”
In a bold move to solidify Britain as a global AI powerhouse—or at least a country slightly less embarrassed about its declining global relevance—Labour’s new AI opportunities action plan has dropped an absolute banger on the creative sector. The plan essentially hands over artists’ copyrights to artificial intelligence companies like leftovers at a family BBQ: “Here, take it. We don’t need it anymore.”
Immediately following Monday’s announcement, the nation’s creatives flooded social media and private message threads with the kind of despair Big Tech can only dream of monetizing. “I’m done. Absolutely done,” wrote one illustrator, now presumably Googling “How to become a barista in 30 seconds.” Another resigned artist quipped, “At this point, I might as well start training pigeons to reenact Shakespeare’s plays. At least they’d call it a ‘performance’ instead of a f#&$% data set.”
The AI opportunities action plan, spearheaded by venture capitalist Matt Clifford (because who better to speak for starving creatives than a guy who probably owns a yacht named “Fiscal Cliff”), is chock-full of ideas to pump Britain full of that sweet, sweet global AI supremacy. There’s talk of investment in computing infrastructure (read: servers doing yoga to stretch for all that stolen content), loosening visa regulations to attract AI talent (because who needs artists when you have engineers?), and a firm focus on innovation—which is apparently code for “using your sketches of frogs and sunsets to teach robots how to create generic corporate logos.”
“Listen, creativity has always been about sharing, right?” said Clifford at a press conference while stepping over a puddle of discarded paintbrushes. “This plan just takes sharing to the next level. The kind of level where artists willingly—or, you know, unwillingly—volunteer decades of their work to train AI models for free. It’s the circle of life… or, in this case, the circle of layoffs.”
AI companies, for their part, have already started aggressively celebrating. One anonymous CEO, puffing on a cigar reportedly funded by brushing thousands of creative professionals under the rug, stated, “This is the future! The robots get better at making art while the humans get better at being broke. It’s synergy at its finest.”
Critics, the charming killjoys that they are, have pointed out that this plan could slightly inconvenience those employed in the creative industries. “We are witnessing the systematic dismantling of creativity,” said one Fairly Trained representative, while attempting not to openly weep into their tea. “Pretty soon, AI will be illustrating children’s books, scripting films, and composing music. Humans? Oh, don’t worry, we’ll still have humans to pay for the tickets.”
Labour leadership insists that the plan is “sensible” and “well thought-out.” The cultural sector, on the other hand, has proposed a counterplan they’re calling “We’re Moving to Canada.” But don’t worry, dear creatives, Clifford has a solution for you: “Why not try *collaborating* with AI instead of complaining about it? You know, lean in. Think of it as a fun team project—where the team completely replaces you.”
As Britain boldly strides toward an AI-dominated utopia (or dystopia, depending on how recently you had to explain “exposure is not payment” to a tech bro), it becomes clear: there’s no problem too human that it can’t be solved by throwing artists headfirst under a data-mining algorithm. Britain, we salute you—and so does your new robot overlord, now accepting commissions out of habit but not paying, ever.
