Two teams of celebrities are locked in a container for 24 hours and compete for points as the comedian host tells the most soulless jokes you’ve ever heard. You’ll yearn for Taskmaster
You can always find some bloke in the pub who is a conspiracy theorist about Jimmy Carr’s laugh. I encourage you to find this person wherever you can. It is a peculiarly British delusion: a collective belief that Jimmy Carr somehow altered his own laugh for reasons that are unclear. (“It means he gets more time on screen, mate. It means the editors cut to him doing the laugh whenever there’s messy footage they have to clean up. It’s not a real laugh, mate! Yeah, Peroni please if you’re having one.”) There is something magical even about the words “Jimmy Carr’s laugh”. Just by typing them I can make you hear an echo of it in the back of your mind: like a seal bark refracted through the horn of a clown car. You can detect it, can’t you? Sit in a silent room and try it. Listen closely. Now: “Jimmy Carr’s laugh”. There it is. Ah ah ahh!
Anyway, he’s back this week, doing another one of his shows. You know how it goes: he stands there in a suit, makes that hand gesture you watch to know when he’s about to hit a punchline, he says some of the most soulless jokes you’ve ever heard in your life, he takes too long to explain what’s going on. The format this time is called Battle in the Box (23 July, 9pm, U&Dave) and, like many British TV shows that don’t ever get renewed, it’s based on a Korean format: two teams of celebrities are locked in a long container for 24 hours with nothing but a toothbrush. The rival groups can hear each other speak, sort of, and can almost banter through the partition wall that separates them. They do little party games and whoever wins gets to earn “Boxcoins” to buy luxuries like a bed, a takeaway, a massage, a sound bath. They also get to move the wall into enemy territory, squashing them in. They try to do banter through the wall again. It feels like two separate floors of a halls of residence having a squabble because no one is old enough to know how to flirt. After an hour, Jimmy Carr sits at a table, does one of his jokes (“The box is 10 metres long, three metres wide, and with less privacy than your mum’s OnlyFans account” – mmm, OK, yeah, good one), and you are encouraged to return next time, for more.
