The harrowing of Jimmy Carr
One bright morning in 2012, British comedian Jimmy Carr woke up to learn that Prime Minister David Cameron was talking about him, and not in a good way. As a high earner in a high-tax country, Carr had entered into a legal tax avoidance scheme recommended by his accountant, saving him millions of pounds in taxes. But he had not considered the optics. In a recent interview Carr explained the situation this way:
This is when you know you’ve got a tax problem: If anyone’s ever had a letter through from HMRC, don’t worry about that - pop that in the recycling., they will send another letter. They’re very good like that. If, on the other hand, the Prime Minister of the country you live in breaks off early from the G-20 summit in Mexico, and he comes out early to do a press conference where he talks about nothing other than your personal tax affairs, that is going to be a problem.
Carr immediately issued an apology, and would later arrange with tax authorities to pay his tax in full, as if he had not entered into the scheme. But he knew that would not be the end of it because, each week, he hosts a panel comedy show called “8 Out of 10 Cats”. And he knew that after his brief opening monologue, the first item in the show’s format would be topical news items, and that a panel of seasoned comedians would be as delighted to see him as lions welcoming a tamer into the cage sans whip and stool, slathered in gravy.
When the lights went up, Carr stepped forward to do his opening bit:
Jokes are Carr’s stock-in-trade. He is a dapper throwback, a Henny Youngman-type with a repertoire of over 1,000 gags, a great voice, and a lightning-quick knack for improvisation (hecklers will be immolated). He started with an off-color line about drugs being smuggled into prisons, and got a good laugh.
“Well, bum jokes still work. Good news.”
He did a couple more, got friendly reception, then turned to face the panel.
If you’ve watched Carr on these panel shows, you might note his focus, his commitment to the bit. He is now in his 10th year hosting “8 Out of 10 Cats Does Countdown”, a mashup show that combines “8 Out of 10 Cats” with the classic game show “Countdown”. You might expect a little dullness to creep in, but no: I saw an episode from just a few weeks ago and he was as sharp as ever. After an anagram round he turned to Susie Dent in Dictionary Corner and asked, with earnest precision, “Susie - could they have done any better?” He asked it unironically, with respectful urgency, making eye contact and leveling his hand in a slightly martial gesture. He never fails to do this, he never wavers. The panel know that however far afield they may go, Jimmy will bring it all back together when the time is right, and keep the show cracking along.
And that’s just what he did. Seating himself, he paused to eye the camera apprehensively, then launched - with commitment - into the segment intro, accompanied by a rising crescendo of laughter:
WHAT are you talking about? That’s the name of our first round. It’s our panelists’ JOB to get the British public’s TOP FIVE talking points. SEAN - Sean, Sarah, Georgie - anything you been….anything caught your eye….in the papers…this week…?
Sean in this instance is Sean Lock, a panel show mainstay whose incisive intelligence and deadpan delivery have made him one of the best-respected comedians in the Kingdom. Given the privilege of opening the proceedings, Lock delivered his remarks with deliberate relish:
Well, Jimmy! We ALL like to put a little money away for a rainy day. [Big laugh]
But I think you’re more prepared than Noah. [Laughs, whoops, and cheers]
What ensued in the 12 minutes that followed was the comic equivalent of Floyd Mayweather fighting six opponents at once, or perhaps the trial of Bukharin done as a Dean Martin roast. It was glorious:
Carr’s career was on the line. He was rich, but, as Cameron had correctly pointed out, the audience was not. A Cambridge man, Carr understood that, legal or no, offending the people who pay you is bad business.
But as a comedian - a pro’s pro - he also understood that this might be the greatest straight man opportunity ever presented to him. He made the most of it. As the onslaught swept over him he maintained the moderator’s role with aplomb, and answered the unanswerable absurd with an array of reaction shots rivaling Roger Federer’s short game.
It was a masterclass in deflection and engagement. Carr bobbed and weaved amidst the repartee while lobbying for the sympathy of the audience. Like Bukharin, he disarmed his critics by directly acknowledging his guilt, but then undercutting the validity of the charges against him. In a later interview he would say “I didn’t kill anyone…because there’s a very clear law on that.”
When offered the opportunity to explain himself, he took the target away, pleading vacuity:
Q: The one serious question I want to ask you is…did you not think there was the possibility you would get tumbled, as they say? Because you know that’s what I would have thought, and I didn’t go to Cambridge.
Carr: Not to be glib about it, but I don’t think I really thought…at all.
Q: You didn’t think it might come out?
Carr: No, yeah, I didn’t think about it, I just thought, uh…I just don’t know, I didn’t really think. It’s…it’s a very stupid thing. Really, I made a very very poor judgment call on what to do.
Q: Have you got that fifteen quid you owe me then? [Big laugh]
Carr: I could tell you about the work I did for charity, but I don’t think lying’s going to make this any better, is it? [Big laugh]
And he won through, helped by the panelists’ digressions into the character of David Cameron, and gratuitous abuse of the Queen (provoking yet another priceless reaction shot). Soon the segment was over. Carr had played the Only Sane Man to perfection, the audience had forgiven him, and everyone had gotten a good laugh.
In 2016 the worm turned one last time, when, through the release of the Panama Papers, it was revealed that David Cameron’s family had run an offshore fund, from which Cameron himself had benefited.
You’ve got to be careful with comedians. Low-status they may be, but they usually get the last laugh.
Back in the day, they took Ken Dodd to court on tax charges. He said: “it’s the Inland Revenue…and I live by the sea.” He was acquitted.
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