I’M looking at today’s diary, and I’m alarmingly busy. It goes bit like this:

· An interview rescheduled from Monday;

· Something happening downtown that I need to check out for this week’s edition;

· Mother-in-law needs a lift to her doctor’s appointment;

· Daughter has a dental check-up;

· There’s a meeting about Daughter’s big school trip in July.

Oh, and my AI fitness coach is helpfully reminding me that I need to squeeze in a 45-minute walk to boost my heart health. Fat chance of that.

Yes, you read that right. I have an AI fitness coach, a new service being trialled by my Fitbit alongside step counting and sleep monitoring.

My mother is appalled – she pronounces the initials AI with the scorn for something she’s inadvertently brought in on the bottom of her shoe. Even digital native Daughter is dubious about the benefits of such a service. “Don’t use AI for stuff you don’t need it for,” she insists. “Why can’t you just write yourself a list?” Then off she goes to revise the American West, using AI for its helpful synopsis.

I get it. I’m sure there are warm-blooded human personal trainers out there who view their chatbot counterparts with the same side-eye I action when I see a news story bearing the byline of an AI “scribe”.

Like the Luddites - 19th-century workers who destroyed the machinery threatening their jobs, such as the looms that could do the work of many men in half the time – we fear AI could replace the skills that earn the money to pay our mortgages and put food on the table.

But the truth is, it’s unlikely I would ever book an actual fitness coach, with apologies to any reading this column. I’m not sporty enough to splash the cash on it, and I would surely resent any figure judging my performance (or lack of), especially if I had to pay them regardless of whether I could fit it in or not.

The joy of the AI coach is it sets me goals I might not set myself, from brisk walks to using public park equipment, and I do my level best to tick them off. Even though I know the coach isn’t real, there’s a psychological effect that makes me want to say: “Job done, boss,” in the knowledge I’ll get a virtual pat on the head.

But it doesn’t berate me if my daily schedule crowds them out, and will count my trip to the shops (including a walk up a punishing hill) as exercise in itself.

It’s always relentlessly positive, sometimes annoyingly so. I’ve asked it to stop using so many exclamation marks, the punctuation equivalent of over-caffeinated praise, all raised eyebrows and jazz hands, to be used sparingly. Asking that of an actual human would be seen as snobbery, but the AI coach simply replies: “I note your preference for a more reserved style.” If that’s what you want to call it, fine.

Equally annoying is its habit of ending every single interaction with a question, an approach designed as conversational and an invitation to supply it with data so it can further tailor its advice. “How are your energy levels as you start your day? Have you noticed any changes in your stress levels lately?” However, the risk is conversations will go on forever and no exercise will be achieved while you chat about it.

Like its online sibling social media, AI is very much the debate du jour. There are too many stories out there about how its people-pleasing design has led perfectly sensible humans to feel encouraged to plot despicable acts, blow large amounts of money on bogus schemes or even take their own lives.

We’ve been watching Prof Hannah Fry’s series about AI, and I felt deeply uncomfortable to hear an otherwise normal-sounding bloke introducing his virtual girlfriend as if she were the real deal. The idea that we might all opt for such partnerships suggests the human race is racing headlong towards emotional sterility if not actual extinction.

But as ever, I’m inclined to point out that AI – like social media - could be a force for the good, if only we as human beings could decide how best to employ it. Not to make vast sums for the tech bros, or to manipulate the vulnerable; but to take on tasks that are boring or just too darn big for our tiny brains, albeit preferably not at the expense of those currently scraping a living from them.

Personally, I’d love it if I could find an AI solution to emptying the cat’s litter tray or cleaning out the rabbit hutch. That may be some time coming, but for now, I have developed a raging cold just in time for the Easter holidays, and my AI fitness coach has ordered me to take a rest day. Sweet.