If I Had A Robot...

We're through the first decade of the Twenty-First Century. Jeez... already... We're supposed to have flying cars and jet packs and friendly robots. So far, though, the only robots like the kind I expected are small and made by the Japanese, who no doubt have some sort of deviance planned for them. I want my robot, dammit.

If I had a robot:

   He would have vacuum cleaners on his feet so that the carpets would always be clean. At least the spots where he walked.
   He would have a semi-British accent, like he grew up in England but spent most of his life over here. He would pretend to drink tea at 4 PM.
   He could fold himself up into a briefcase so I could take him into places where I wasn't supposed to have a robot. Of course it would be a four-hundred-pound briefcase, but I figure there'd be some sort of anti-gravity too.
   On Fridays he would wear a Hawaiian shirt, because robots tend to get wacky on Fridays.
   He'd have flame throwers. In his arms or out his butt, I haven't decided yet.
   He'd have more book learning than me, kind of like a walking Wikipedia, but he would lack human compassion and creativity.
   He'd tell his robot friends about how great his boss - me - was. His robot friends would be so jealous they would all scheme ways to become my robot, and have misadventures as a result. Like a robot Three's Company.
   If I fell asleep at my desk or on the couch he'd carry me to my bed and tuck me in. Because robots are strong and he would be able to lift me easily.
   I would tell him what to buy at the grocery store and he'd do the shopping on his own. He'd get exactly what I tell him but he'd always bring back something new for me to try. Which I probably wouldn't like, because robots don't understand taste, but still, it's the thought that counts.
   I could get on his shoulders and ride him on errands around town. People would wave at me like was in the Rose Parade.
   When we played poker he'd always let me win.