Ricky Gervais once faced a particularly unsettling question during an interview – a question posed by a journalist he suspected didn’t much care for him. He initially deflected with a fabricated response, a darkly humorous fantasy he didn’t anticipate would gain such traction.
The comedian envisioned a macabre spectacle: his own body, unceremoniously wheeled into the lion enclosure at London Zoo. He imagined the scene unfolding before a crowd of onlookers, recognizing him as the man from “The Office.” It was a deliberately outrageous image, designed to dismiss the intrusive inquiry.
He detailed the scenario with unsettling precision, describing how lions instinctively target the softest parts of the body to access the rib cage. His morbid humor didn’t stop there, extending to a graphic, yet strangely romantic, comparison to the iconic “Lady and the Tramp” spaghetti scene.
To his astonishment, London Zoo officially responded to his outlandish “request.” Their firm refusal – a simple “No, of course not” – became a headline: “London Zoo Refuses Ricky’s Request to Be Fed to Lions.” Gervais was taken aback, feeling unfairly branded as something of a psychopath.
The entire episode, he explained, served to illustrate a larger point. Dwelling on the inevitable – what happens after death – is a futile exercise. He advocates for embracing life, for focusing on the present, and for relinquishing control over the unknowable future.
Ultimately, Gervais believes that once life is over, it’s over. The responsibility for what follows shifts to others. The living should focus on living, leaving the contemplation of mortality to those left behind.
