After suffering in silence for the whole of episode one it was with a sense of deep trepidation that I steeled myself for the second instalment. Incredibly, it was even worse. No mean feat.

The Beeb’s optimistically named Walliams & Friend (much more of this and he won’t have any friends at all) is to comedy what Donald Trump is to hairstyling. A disastrous mess.

Start the weekend on a low by tuning into David Walliams’ fantastically feeble Friday night sketch show. On the plus side, at least things can only get better. Yay.

Just as I was recovering from the trauma of droll Dave’s laugh-free collaboration with Jack "Sherlock" Whitehall along came Harry Enfield to set the bar at rock bottom. For a brilliant mimic with a distinguished track record, this was desperate stuff.

But first a sample of Walliams’ laser-like wit as he takes deadly aim at the controversial topic of BBC celebrity salaries.

“Jeremy Clarkson is paid one hot dinner. And one bucket of ice for his fists.” Be still my aching sides. More? Okay, here goes: “David Attenborough gets a VIP booth at Stringfellows so he can observe birds in all their glory.” Really?

The tawdry tone duly set, the puny sketches begin. They should come with a health warning: Not suitable for anyone over the age of seven. Or for anyone with a sense of humour.

Who Does One Think One Is? featuring Harry as the Queen who doesn’t realise her grandmother was Queen Victoria. “Was she named after the pub in EastEnders?” enquires Her hilarious Majesty while the long suffering viewers ask themselves: Was the so-called script written in the pub? I mean, how crap is that?

Naturally, this horrible half hour of hopelessness is peppered by sudden explosions of canned laughter that stop abruptly two seconds later. Not a bad idea to alert the bored audience to the alleged punchlines because they sure as hell won’t spot them otherwise.

There are so many ways to mock MasterChef’s gurning goon Gregg Wallace. Turning him into a Harry Hill lookalike who doesn’t like foreign food isn’t one of them. Another missed opportunity in a ludicrously lazy programme that can’t even be bothered to research the subject it’s attempting to be funny about.

As for the two dirty old men who keep trying to persuade old ladies to join them for geriatric threesomes, they’re just seedy. Unsavoury and unpleasant. Middle class Jeremy Kyle? The real Jeremy Kyle is far funnier. Il Prima Donnas singing football chants and ad jingles. Second hand dross that’s been done before.

The common response to this disappointing dirge is that Mr Walliams was excellent on Little Britain. But that maybe without Matt Lucas he’s no great shakes. But Little Britain was seriously overrated. An okay offering that simply repeated the same juvenile jokes week after indistinguishable week. Yeah but no but yeah it’s true.

There’s no doubt that he's a fine judge on Britain’s Got Talent. But does he have the comic talent to carry off his own sketch series? After two weeks… that’s two nos.

But back to the main attraction and our hero proudly waxing lyrical about his role as a crimson-faced waiter at a Star Wars style space bar: “Nailed it. Bafta, Bafta, Bafta.” Three times a loser. When the time comes for Walliams & Friend, Baftas will be conspicuous by their absence.