One or other of John Cleese's former spouses has done the arts a grave misservice by milking him of his earnings from the days when he was a genuinely funny man. He ought to have been able to swan off into the sunlit uplands of a well-earned retirement some several years/decades ago, but sadly he apparently cannot afford this luxury, and so must ply his trade long after he has ceased to amuse us, except perhaps in vintage clips of yesteryear. He does absolutely nothing to redeem this dire sitcom, but in fairness it was already so grindingly bad you feel that even if he were NOT well past his screen sell-by date and had turned in an epic performance, it would still have been embarrassingly awful. Since I am allegedly in the demographic to which this dross was pitched, I can only wince at what younger eyes and ears would make of it. Steer well clear, cast manoeuvring with extreme difficulty. Worst thing I have seen in many a year. It even made me log in and post this - it was THAT ghastly.

Who on earth commissioned this? Who passed the script? Where are the laughs? Where are the characters we can relate to?This series is so lame it is embarrassing. How anyone can think this is comedy is beyond me. Jason Watkins is such a good actor yet is reduced to situations like climbing through a window in a shed for no other reason than "it is what I used to do as a child". I watched every episode because this is one of those things where it is so bad you just have to watch. But not once in all the six episodes did it even raise a smile. Loads of occasions where I thought how bad can it get.Knowing the BBC they will commission another series despite universal bad reviews.

Absolute DROSS Showing how pathetic ''comedy'' writing has become in the UK! How the hell comedy legends can pimp themselves for this UNFUNNY DROSS is beyond me SCRAP the FAR LEFT TV TAX

An atrocity and an abortion of a tossed-off snorefest.It's like this was written by Alexa after a tin of Vimto was poured on her, and then directed by one of those hoovers that you switch on, go out and leave to bimble around at random.Did anyone in the world laugh when this was broadcast? I mean, anyone whose brain isn't overrun with worms or dementia or syphilis and doesn't laugh involuntarily as a result?Parts of my soul died watching this. I aged about five years but was gripped with a grim, prurient fascination at a mediocrity which almost assumed physical form, like a big, globby, pulsing wall down the centre of my room, and I couldn't turn it off. I longed for Leatherface to suddenly steam into the faceless, pointless neighbourhood where this staggeringly inconsequential dreck takes place, and fill the air with criss-crossing geriatric entrails.