The Time Travelling Comedian Guy

Comedians have been disappearing. Not the famous ones, but those ones stuck somewhere in the middle. The badge-making, cardigan-wearing types. Robin Ince, Terry Saunders, Josie Long.

Initially, I am pleased. There's more work about and having never associated myself with the arts-and-crafts end of the comedy world, I feels safe. But then Paul Foot, Simon Munnery and Tony Law all go in one day. I realise it's only a matter of time before whatever it is works through all the better comics and gets to me.

One Saturday, a wormhole opens up onstage, and I am transported to 1851 – the opening ceremony of the Great Exhibition. It becomes clear that I must perform the corporate gig of my life.

I am performing to the greatest collection of scientists and engineers ever assembled. I must storm it, win their favour and use their genius to get back home.

I succeed. Back home I manage to trace the source of the time distortion. It's Horne and Cordon. The enemies of comedy. Using power left over from their pact with Satan, they are removing the inventive middle section of the comedy world to make themselves look less shit.

The film finishes with a brutal and relentless 30 minutes of me smashing in James Cordon's smug face with a clawhammer. No incidental music, just one grainy, hand-held camera and harsh lighting.