Once upon a time there was a wall, and the comedians tried to climb over it - but there was too much wall stretching into the clouds. The comedians tried to go round it, but it was too long to walk round and their feet got tired and they hadn't gotten any further. The comedians thought about just sitting on the floor and giving up but there was too much to be gained by carrying on. The comedians also thought about just grafitiing silly words and pictures all over the wall and making themselves laugh and this was fun for a while but then someone spoiled it by drinking the paint. There's always one.
The wall caused a lot of anger. Who had put it there? What was the point? Was it ever going to achieve anything by being there? The wall stood in the way of the stars (real ones, not shitty meanningless ones dished out by sad sacks who love typewriters), it stood in the way of the real stars. Which always represent dreams in terrible stories like this one with morals and an alternative meaning. The stars are the happy place where comedians go to think about how much they like standing blinded on a stage talking into the dark and waiting for strangers to approve of them. Comedians are queer folk.
The comedians simply didn't know, all they knew was that this wall had to be gotten through.
At first they tried drinking through the wall - dissolving the cement with beer, drop by drop. This was an effective method but it produced a lot of headaches the next morning when our band of hardy comedians realised they were not as far up the wall as they'd thought in the fog of the previous night's actions. Occasionally there would be misguided drunken leaps off the wall in an attempt to create flying - but this only succeeded in squashing a few unlucky comedians asleep at the bottom of the wall.
They also tried powering through the wall with more performances than you can shake a stick at. Not that necessarily any anyone would shake a stick during a comedy show as that would make a rather queer audience or a ramshackle shamanistic ritual. But they forced in as many opportunities to laugh as possible and hoped that the joy of what they were doing would help them through. This also failed as with every retelling of the words they'd been crafting for a year, the comedians became more critical of themselves and found it harder and harder to see why they were brilliant.
Eventually the comedians gave up and sat staring at each other wondering whether to go and find a stage at all or just sit and count their fingers to check they were still in reality. But then one comedian got to his feet.
He rose slowly, with all the power and might of a knight from days of old. He had a plan. The plan was that all the comedians would build a human pyramid and help each other over the wall - by working together they would build a tower so mighty that they would be able to climb over it and save each other from mental destruction.
It was a mighty plan.
"It's a fucking stupid plan" said a voice from the corner, "How are the people at the bottom going to get over? Muppets. There'll just be the one guy at the top of the pyramid climbing over and everyone in a ridiculous tower on the other side. Teamwork Schmeamwork, let's use dynamite."
And so they did. They blew up the wall in a massive bangtastic bang of explosives. A few people died but they weren't very funny anyway so it didn't totally matter and all the important people got through.
Turns out there wasn't really a moral at the end of this story. Just a big old explosion. A bit like Robot Wars. And Robot Wars is a good thing. And so are explosions. And so is marmite. And also comedy.
I believe I have just exploded my wall through the power of story...let's go week two...you've got a blooming long way to go to top week one for utterly weird stuff and nonsense...