THERE is a concern among people cleverer than me that the rise of artificial intelligence will one day leave us all redundant, sick from a virus, killed by weapons we can’t imagine now and controlled by robot overlords.

What possibly could go wrong in creating a “thing” that can think and do tasks 50,000 times quicker than any of us?

I bring you a beacon of hope this week, however – a small shard of light which may save us from The Terminator.

This week, the millions of books which have been pirated to teach the new systems how to write were revealed as the contents of the controversial Libgen database ­– and it turns out that part of its learning has been on all the celebrities who thought “how hard can it be?” and colonised the children’s section of every bookshop with a book about a farting cat.

Burbling computer modules have devoured all the awful David Walliams’ efforts and all the rest, so one thing is for sure – AI will be able to write a book about a marvellous child in perfect sub-Dahl prose.

The AI learning library has also feasted on Strictly Come Dancing judge Shirley Ballas’s gripping page-turner Murder On The Dance Floor, an inclusion steeped in wicked irony given she has already explained she didn’t actually write all the words herself – shock of shocks – worked with a ghost writer.

One man who surely wrote all his own stuff is Theo Walcott, who during his days at Arsenal somehow managed to find time to also pen a series of kids’ books based on a character called TJ. Who can forget the presumably evenly-paced and richly drawn TJ and the Hat-trick?

Theo has, of course, changed careers from being your nice young man playing for Arsenal to your nice young man in Match of The Day 2 studio, and so we must take cautionary steps not to offend. As such, I will offer no further comment on whether the bots will beat Shakespeare loaded up with Walcott’s back catalogue.

But while the end may be nigh for writers, artists and anybody else whose job involves a computer, people in my profession may see one at least one more summer by knowing Frank Lampard’s literary efforts can be found in the Libgen chest. Not quite Booker Prize material, the Frankie’s Magic Soccer Ball adventures are presumably available in collector’s edition form in charity shops around Cobham.

There’s more: Lampard’s autobiography is being used to feed the AI system too, imaginatively titled Totally Frank.

One of its famous paragraphs reflected on time spent on Roman Abramovich’s yacht and realising his personal riches were dwarfed by the chairman: “I suppose people imagine that as Premiership footballer my life is quite special. I agree, but the two weeks opened my eyes to another world.”

So AI is being taught how to write like a toddler, but also to think like one that thinks living the life of a millionaire footballer isn’t enough. Maybe we are doomed after all.