June 28, 2026

Automation applied to an inefficient operation will magnify the inefficiency.

– Bill Gates

The Byfield universe was interrupted by an annoying series of events this week. First, the temperature reached new June highs, beating 1976, a summer I remember well. The English naturally dealt with this in a calm, moderate and balanced way, closing our national infrastructure down including schools, hospitals and public transport and making the weather the lead headline for more consecutive days than the thermometer exceeded the heatwave threshold. We were introduced to a new concept of wet-bulb temperatures and informed that we were approaching the limit where human life was unsustainable.

Not to be outdone, and exhibiting a madness normally connected journalistically with the month of August, a government minister from the soi-disant Justice Department announced that if the government’s reforms to trial by jury were not enacted, then the backlog could continue for another 300 years. I wonder who supplied her with that figure (as opposed to say 400 or 200) and what variables it was taking into account. There have been a few changes since 1726 and might just be a few more before 2326. The government might fund the legal system properly by then or, indeed, we may no longer exist as a species when temperatures reach those on Venus. Perhaps a vengeful civil servant gave her the figure and collapsed with laughter when she fell for it.

Meanwhile, I was suffering on other fronts. First, trying to sort out a very pleasant member of Chambers’ issue with his electricity bill. He had inadvertently missed a monthly payment. Bills are now monthly, as opposed to quarterly, to ‘assist our customers’. He corrected the position immediately, but his account had been referred to some other company to be managed. It phoned him daily. He assured the callers truthfully that his account was in credit. They replied that they wouldn’t know that, as they have no access to his account – the one they are managing. My efforts to assist via the supplier proved unsuccessful. I now receive daily calls from the same second company as it turns out that I have the same electricity supplier and, due to some confusion or punishment, I am now being ‘managed’.

I was also having some additional issues with technology. I had undergone an annual check-up with my GP and needed a few tests. Accessing my increasingly expensive medical insurance, which we arrange through a group policy in Chambers, now requires online authorisation. This is apparently ‘to enhance my customer experience’. It resulted in questioning by a chatbot. This entity asked me if I was suffering from musculoskeletal or gastric or respiratory or cardiovascular or neurological symptoms. I was only allowed to have one condition. I had two, plus a need for physio. I could not answer to its satisfaction, and it then asked me if I had what it called ‘other’ conditions and I explained (in the 100 words allowed) the issue of requiring assistance for more than one problem. The chatbot then reverted to its original question and I started to receive a stream of ‘no-reply’ texts telling me to contact the chatbot. When I eventually located a human being, I added high blood pressure to my list of ailments. ‘Have you suffered with this for long?’ the human asked. ‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s of quite recent origin.’

After a welcome trip out on Saturday night, I took a cab home. Walking into my house, I started patting my pockets with deepening panic. I had left my mobile phone in the cab. It has occasionally happened before, but I had forgotten what you did next. Then I remembered that I could remotely force my mobile phone to make loud screeching noises. To do this, I had to find my tablet device. By now, my heart was racing. All the horrors of phone loss convulsed my brain. Then hope – I had hailed the cab on an app. I could trace the driver on my tablet. No, I didn’t even need to do that. My phone wouldn’t just scream; it would display its number. I found the tablet and remotely invoked the racket. Like a miracle, I saw a text on my tablet from an ‘Adam’ saying; ‘I’m outside, where I dropped you off. I have your mobile.’ I ran downstairs. Adam would not accept a single penny despite my attempts to throw money at him.

I returned to my sofa, still shaking, but now with relief. Then I had a thought. A technical wonder had avoided that painful report to the Data Protection police. As a barrister, I should have known. There is always another side to everything.