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Ah, Robot Day. A day of robots. A day to remember long-winded robot-related stories of hard times and friendship.

I first met Lare in the winter of 1942. It was during one of the lesser-known battles of the Second World War, the seige of Essex. I was a plucky young soldier from Wales, he was an aspiring Somalian immigrant who came to Finland in the hope of being an engineer. Together we worked on a ground-breaking idea of his, originally nicknamed 'der Deutsch fucker' and later renamed the robot. Unfortunately, we gave the robot excessively high artifical intelligence and it became disillusioned with the army, becoming a pacifist. Eventually we were forced to beat it to death with its own circuit board to prevent it from organising a military coup. Shortly after, Lare and I were deployed to France on D-Day and became seperated after a humourous misunderstanding about which supermarket we were going to meet up in after the battle ended. It was the last we saw of one another for many years.

Our paths would not cross again until the spring of 1959 where we met by coincidence in a brothel on my holiday trip to the USA. Lare revealed to me that he had been hired by the United States government to build them a war robot, which they had nicknamed 'der Russischen fucker'. It's goal was to spy and retrieve top-secret intelligence on known dangerous individuals, mostly people who were mistreating their pets. He asked me if I wanted a job on the robo-team, and of course I said yes. However, the project was not to succeed. A rival company, keen to use to power of robo-technology to create and market a fridge that could restock itself, spread rumours that Lare and I were communists and in league with the feared Portuguese. We were exiled to Sweden, where we were forced to take up employment as street mimes to make ends meet.

Whilst my dreams floundered, Lare remained adamant that he could still use the power of popular robotics to bring harmony to people. We moved to London and set up a small office with two other like-minded individuals from Liverpool. However, due to Britain's ban on robots following the 1956 election robo-sex scandal, we had to work in secret. Instead of being seen as the brilliant engineers we were, we were forced to pretend to be a group of pop musicians known as 'The Beatles' to avoid arrest. For many years we made good progress on the project, nicknamed 'das Walross fucker', but again it was not to be. Tensions within the group, mostly due to Paulie and Jonathan's contrasting opinions on the colour of the robot, caused us to break-down and go our seperate ways.

However, Lare and I remained friends and travelled to India to seek investment to finally make our robo-dream a reality. We were turned down by all major investors and a couple of minor ones too. Homeless, jobless and broken-hearted, we were arrested and deported, though a mix-up in our passports caused Lare to be sent to Australia and me to be sent to Paraquay. Knowing I would never make robots a reality, I settled down and started a family.

Many years later, on the dawn on the new millenium, I tracked down Lare by calling every phone number in the Australian yellow pages until I found him (forutnately his surname is Aaantv so it was relatively quick). To my horror, his work among the robo-fumes during our projects had given him lung cancer and he had not long to live. Shortly before his death in 2001 he told me how sad it was that he had never achieved his life-long dream of creating a robot to help humanity.

It's been almost ten years since Lare passed away. Every day since I've tried to make his dream a reality, naming it 'die Lare fucker' in his memory, but I never succeeded. Without his brains, I fear robotic harmony will never be reality. In the end, all I have is this blueprint which you see here today. I am an old man and there is not long left for me. Perhaps, if I leave with you my plans, some other bright soul will one day be able to finish what Lare and I started all those years ago...

Perhaps.