Colin Mochrie marched through the electronic doors of the television studio and out into what appeared to be a monsoon. His day was going from bad to worse. He'd tried for a part in an upcoming sitcom and been rejected. He wasn't sure why, too old, too bald, too Colin?
          He looked at the rain in an accusatory way. Well someone had to be blamed for how crap he was feeling.
          Life hadn't been easy for anyone since Whose Line was axed and replaced with yet another sitcom about a painfully thin woman and her desperate search for a mate.
          Colin took a deep breath and then jogged to his car. He managed to step in two puddles, leaving his pants wet to the knees. He then dropped his keys and spent a further few precious seconds picking them out of the mud. By the time Colin actually got in his car he was soaked through and in a mood that would scare even the most dedicated Whoser.
          He mumbled a few obscenities and gripped the steering wheel tight. Something had to change. He was bored, being Canada's pin up boy was fun but it compared little to the adrenaline rush of improvisational comedy with your mates.

          If only he could show the world (well the yanks) what they were missing. Protests, placards and petitions were not going to help. No, something more elaborate needed to be done. Something no one would expect, something that would blow the minds of television executives and viewers alike.

          A wry smile spread across Colin's face. He had an idea. It was a totally crazy, un- Colin-like thing. But it might just work.
          But first he would need to recruit the best team of improvisers he could.