IBM supercomputer...

cannot speak slang, shock. Watson, named after Sherlock's sidekick presumably, is good at quizzes but not good at expletives. Good at answering questions on general knowledge not good at telling people to bugger off. The fluidity of language and meaning is beyond our chippy friend. Ask it to name the third highest Himalayan peak and quick as a flash it replies Kanchenjunga. Ask who won the 1958 US Masters and before you've time to inhale it shouts Arnold Palmer. Indeed, if asked to name the father of quantum mechanics, Watson, and no doubt with a sigh due to the question's insignificance will whisper, Max Planck. But ask Watson which of its human colleagues is the biggest tosser and no answer will come. Whilst idly polishing Watson's magnificent chrome should one mention that at last night's post programming party Billy from accounts made a right arse of himself the poor machine will not nod in sage agreement. Nor will Watson acknowledge that Billy's friend Moira, also half cut on cheap white wine, was right when she called him a prick for accidentally tipping into her bag a bowl of pistachio shells. For Watson there remains much that is puzzling about language and the way meanings are made. So, the clever old thing might know the answer to almost everything but at parties? Completely out of it's depth. Mind you, that's what comes when ones life is spent bolted to a floor.