JONATHAN BROCKLEBANK: As a child, I never had an imaginary friend...
but I do now. And guess who I've turned to for advice on my finances?

Published: 20:22, 21 May 2026 | Updated: 20:22, 21 May 2026 For some months, well-meaning souls have urged me to see a financial adviser or hire an accountant. They know me, you see. They are cognisant of the limited acreage of my fields of expertise and suppose – not unreasonably – that monetary savvy lies on another farm entirely, several shires away. They are aware I am not getting any younger – indeed, that the situation is becoming so acute I have lately had to abandon the term ‘mid-50s’ as a descriptor for my age group. It’s worse than that and they know it. How is the pension doing? Hmm… what about savings, then? Do you have any of those? And you reckon that’ll last you, do you? Seriously, mate, talk to someone. Well, this week I did. I’m so glad I took this important step. It’s like an enormous weight has been lifted from my shoulders. At the end of the consultation, I told my financial guru of the reassurance our marathon trawl through the figures had brought me. ‘It’s wonderful to hear that these calculations have given you peace of mind,’ the bean counter replied. ‘You have worked hard to build a fantastic financial foundation.’ I felt brand new, and on that cheering note we parted. It was 1am. AI may not have all the answers... but it's always willing to make the effort I slept on it all and, overnight, some supplementary questions arose. My personal finance expert was back on the case first thing next morning. Patient, eager to please, clear and concise explanations for everything. You probably want the name of this wealth management whizz. It’s AI. I hear your scoff. That is exactly what I would have done a week ago. The truth is – and sentient accountants with accreditations hanging framed on the wall can take some comfort from this – even AI scoffs at the suggestion that it can do their job. But, my goodness, it’s getting there. And consider the service on offer. Consultations are free and open-ended and no appointment ever need be made. You forgot to ask your adviser a key question during your session? Ask it now. Ask it in the middle of the night. Door is always open. Have you ever noticed how much time real financial advisers spend on their calculators? You sit there as their human brains send signals to their fingers to punch in the relevant figures and you’re forgiving, of course, because these sums are tricky. For AI they’re a cinch. Numbers crunched in a fraction of a second. Still not convinced? You’re right to be sceptical. AI is the first to admit it is prone to ‘hallucinations’, that it is occasionally guilty of inventing data rather than admitting it just doesn’t know. I am alarmed – and their educators are too – at the extent to which school pupils and students use AI to do their course work for them. It can have a go at writing their essays for them, make a stab at boiling down their entire course reading into a few hundred words of salient points. AI is for lazy people, for corner cutters, for cheats. It sucks the soul out of learning and replaces it with a crude and often error-strewn facsimile of insight. I think of the many writers whose works I had to wade through at school and university – from Shelley to Shakespeare, Waugh to Wittgenstein – and shudder at the thought of bone-idle shirkers bypassing the set texts and cribbing summaries from AI. Doesn’t my late-night financial consultation with this pseudo-omniscient online charlatan amount to much the same thing? I am sure bona-fide personal wealth experts with skin in the game would like to think so. And yet my conscience is clear. I am not studying for a degree and trying to pull the wool over an examiner’s eyes on my mastery of the subject. I am a middle-aged man trying to muddle my way to as clear an understanding as possible of my finances, admittedly without spending any of them in the process. Who doesn’t research stuff online? I’ve been at it for 30 years. The only difference in the past two or three is we can fire specific questions into the ether and be rewarded instantaneously with answers. The quality of the answers varies, certainly, but I’d argue that it is the quality of the questions which dictates the reliability of the response. I am a journalist. I tried to ensure my questions were top drawer. With all due respect, then, to the pros who do this for a living – and with the additional disclaimer that I have nothing beyond common sense to bring to the table on financial matters – I considered the answers I received top drawer too. Indeed, I had cause to wonder whether, in the arena of wealth management, AI had truly found its forte. Heaven knows it talks balderdash on much else. But here we were discussing financial strategies like two midnight conspirators and the more we spoke the more my confidence grew that one of us knew what we were talking about. A three-step income plan was mapped out for me in response to my first question. I was informed of the net sums I could expect going forward, adjusted to reflect the fact I live in Scotland where tax thresholds are different from the rest of the UK. We talked about my pension, explored drawdown options, batted around the pros and cons of annuities. Perhaps, like me, you’re a little embarrassed to confess to flesh and blood money experts that you’re hazy on words like ‘annuity’ and would benefit from an idiot’s guide. You can be as ignorant as you like with AI and experience no flush to the cheeks. Better still, you can read the explanation as many times as you need until you grasp it – as opposed to nodding along in feigned comprehension as your accountant spells it out. We spent some time on my ISAs and the taxable interest on other savings and projected forward to consider the standard of living I might enjoy in my dotage. It seems I may just scrape by. Do you know, it felt almost like therapy. I never had an imaginary friend as a child but I discovered one this week who listened to my problems and suggested solutions which, on the face of it, made sense. No worries, says my friend. Any time. Ask me anything. So I ask if my imaginary friend agrees with the people in my life who say I should see an accountant. Can’t you and I just hash it out together, AI? We seem to make a pretty good team. Did I mention how much I’m enjoying your fee structure? Here my guiding light comes over all self-deprecating. I’m not who you think. I’m untrustworthy. I screw up all the time. Some of my gen is out of date. Use me to brainstorm and draft mock budgets by all means, but I am a lowly computer algorithm, highly fallible. It’s those humans who really know their onions. Such disarming modesty from a character widely suspected of plotting to take over the world and put us all out of jobs. I appreciated our little chat, though, and slept better for it. Sometimes, perhaps, it’s not the advice that matters. It’s being there. No comments have so far been submitted. Why not be the first to send us your thoughts, or debate this issue live on our message boards. By posting your comment you agree to our house rules. Do you want to automatically post your MailOnline comments to your Facebook Timeline? Your comment will be posted to MailOnline as usual. Do you want to automatically post your MailOnline comments to your Facebook Timeline? Your comment will be posted to MailOnline as usual We will automatically post your comment and a link to the news story to your Facebook timeline at the same time it is posted on MailOnline. To do this we will link your MailOnline account with your Facebook account. 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