Jimmy Carr, eh! Never looks at anything, does he?
Jimmy! London’s on fire, over there! Look at London, all on fire! Is he looking? Of course not. Jimmy Carr hasn’t voluntarily looked at anything since infancy, when he realised that seeing things filled him with a burning sense of scorn. “God, everything’s so feeble,” he thought. “I wish I could somehow inform the world of my endless disdain for it.”
Since that day, Jimmy Carr has become so good at not looking at things that he can not look at two things at once. Here, he’s ignoring a starving dog, and some scary ghosts having a bonfire night. Jimmy Carr can afford enough dog food to fill a catamaran; why is he letting the dog die? Because he despises the dog’s weakness.
Perhaps I’m trying the wrong approach – appealing to Jimmy Carr’s sense of humanity might be wanking a dead man. I know! Here, Jimmy! Jimmy! It’s some money, and a tit with your face on it, three times! Imagine that, Jimmy Carr – your face, on a tit!
Damn! And I even snuck them in on the other side to trick him. What’s wrong with my money, Jimmy? Why won’t you see my hot boob? Are you scared of what you might see? Hmm. I wonder what would happen if…
Good Lord. He can’t keep that up forever, surely?
Well, it’d seem he could keep it up until the world degenerates into a Heironymous Bosch vision of the last judgment, anyway. Well, I give up. I just can’t see to get Jimmy Carr to look at anything. I hope he can afford people to tell him if traffic’s coming.
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