Rather than really get to think about the question, we are hurtled 800,000 years into the future, a time when the art of storytelling has died and actors parade through corny-looking sets in search of narrative and big explosions.
FILTHY: We don't have time to go into every detail.
JIMMY: Speak for yourself, I'm immortal. I have all the time in the world. I'll be dancing on your grave.
< hilarity ensues, conversation changes pace >
JIMMY: Ireland is a land full of myth and wonder. And giant killer-robot factories.