Before we turn to the hellish mess that is Sirens, it's worth reminding ourselves what Channel 4 is meant to do. When the channel first went on air in 1982, its remit required it to provide a broad range of programmes which demonstrate innovation, experiment and creativity. A lot of ideals have disappeared down the plughole since then, and with them have gone most - perhaps all - of C4's reason to exist.

And so to Sirens, a new drama series about paramedics so devoid of innovation, experiment and creativity that my initial whimpers of disbelief had turned into a prolonged groan of despair by the first commercial break. Some flavour of its distinctive non-allure can be gained from the fact that the first words anyone spoke were, "Adrenalin, f---ing adrenalin."

In the speech that followed I counted six "f---s" - and it was a pretty short speech. Now, there's nothing new about having characters say "f---" every other sentence in a wearisome attempt to lend something a measure of street-cred, but I have never seen it done quite so lumpishly and self-consciously.

The main character, Stuart (Rhys Thomas), is a priapic moron with two mouthy sidekicks. Rather than characterise the sidekicks, writer Tony Basgallop had gone instead for a primitive sort of colour-coding - one is Asian while the other is gay. All three are so unpleasant that if they were the first people you saw after coming round from a heart attack, you might well summon up your last reserves of strength to try to knock yourself out again with the defibrillator paddle.

The first episode was called 'Up, Horny, Down'. This refers to the mood swings that apparently are a feature of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - first you're exhilarated, then randy, then blue. Being possessed, I hope, of a reasonably compassionate nature - and also having no desire to recall any more of Sirens than necessary - I'll confine myself to noting that one scene involved Stuart trying to pee with an erection and splashing all the toiletries on his bathroom shelf. It went on in similar vein for 50 minutes and then, clearly aware that something climactic was required, loosed off a thrillingly bold "c---" just before the end credits.

It started life in 2003 as a blog by London ambulance technician Brian Kellett.

Back then, his musings on the job were entitled Random Acts of Reality. It became a book, Blood, Sweat and Tea, a radio play and now it's been turned into a TV series.

Even before it's aired here in Britain, an American version is already in the ­pipeline.

Written by Tony Basgallop, (Teachers, Hotel Babylon) this comedy drama is a strangely ­schizophrenic production.

On the one hand it seems to be straining to be a rude Channel 4 sitcom, filled with the usual quota of very bad language and sex scenes both gay and straight.

The opening line, "One female, mid-20s, looks like a slightly older Miley Cyrus...", played out against the medical drama cliche of slo-mo heroes and a lush ballad on the soundtrack, certainly leads you to expect the rest of the episode to be just as funny.

But it's also got a psychology ­textbook in its back pocket plus a brain and a conscience - three things that get in the way of comedy.

Our trio of paramedics, Stuart, Ashley and Rachid, played by Rhys Thomas, Richard Madden and Kayvan Novak, have attended a bad ­road-traffic accident and have been sent for counselling.

Warned of the mood swings that adrenaline coursing through their bodies will cause, Stuart decides to fight it - just to prove that he's more than a bunch of chemical reactions.

How much of tonight's first episode is based on real life is debatable, but it you want to wade through eight years of blogs to find out, then by all means, be my guest.