The year is 2120. Humanity has expanded across the galaxy, establishing colonies as far away as Dreasak-9. But back on earth, all is not well. The Nuclear war of 2088 has reduced our beloved planet to a scorched crust. Meanwhile, in a studio located somewhere in the alkali flats where once was Salford Quays, the BBC’s nightmarish ‘This Week’ continues to be broadcast…

Andrew Neill should have died a long time ago, but thankfully his decaying corpse is kept alive with the implementation of advanced cybernetics. A favourite trick of his is to waggle his robotic phallus at perpetual sidekick Michael Portillo, who for unknown reasons has had his mind transplanted into the body of a dog. The pair have long since ceased to have writers, or an audience. But they continue to bring guests to the studio every week to pretend to be following on from Space-Question Time, taking a cack-handedly wry look at the most recent news about the consumption of a planet, or an outbreak of space-plague in one of the colonies.

This idea came to me in a dream, and I am thinking of turning it into a sitcom.