Jock's Jocks

I've been thinking geeky thoughts lately - I know I shouldn't but I don't think there is much I can do about it. I bought a wireless card for my laptop a couple of days ago, and I felt excited. Last night I went to the local shopping mall cinema and saw Doom, a movie based on a computer game and enjoyed it. That's all I've got actually so it's not all that geeky, but the following is:

In fifty years time, scientists and the like finally invent some sort of intelligent robot, one that can think, feel and learn and constantly reprogram itself to adapt to the world. However once they start being produced for use in society, cheap imitations will pop up like Tamagotchi fakes (geek).
Maybe like a car or a computer, there would be different models starting at the base model, and going right through to the deluxe, top-of-the-range release. I don't really care about the deluxe one, but the base model could prove interesting.

Would it be less intelligent? Would it be a bit of a slob and not really obey any commands? Once it's settled into your home it could start getting lazy; instead of making fresh hot coffee for you, it squirts oil into your cup and adds the curdled milk it forgot to put back into the fridge two days ago and pretends nothing's wrong. It hears you swearing so it decides to add a few words to it's own vocabulary, so when asked to do something such as vacuum the house you might not be met with a "yes master," but instead something like "piss off I'm watching telly, do it yourself." There's not much point having one really. Instead of cooking a gourmet meal to delight your friends, it might cook toast or give you a can of baked beans and an opener, telling you to share it amongst yourselves while it heads to the pub.

They'd be like one of those friends who says they're only staying for a few days while they sort their life out, only to still be there three months later. He'll crack onto your girlfriend, saying that he's got 10 inches of cold steel for her, when in fact there is an infrared port where his penis should be, and he'll wolf-whistle when your mum comes around for tea. Maybe the only thing we can do is shove one of these base-model robots into the big brother house and watch it come alive. Darren TX-379 could be competing for a million bucks along with a ditzy hairdresser and a boring football player.

There is also the distinct possibility that it could turn on you, but instead of killing you it punches you in the face, pisses off, but comes back two days later mumbling something about being mugged and having no money. Darren TX-379, or "Darren" for short would then feel guilty, and so would do a quick clean of the house, involving a half-arsed vacuuming job, sweeping all of his dirty dishes and beer cans under his bed and hiding an oil patch in the carpet under a rug.
I hate robots already.