I endured only the second Mrs Brown's Boys of my life. The first I reviewed not long after the Brexit vote, and I wondered then whether the inexplicable success of the programme with the British mainland public wasn't directly linked to the success of the Leave campaign. I see no reason, second time around, to revise my opinion: we should have seen that vote coming. Unutterably witless, smutty/borderline blue, most of it (again) simply involved Brendan O'Carroll mugging sneeringly to camera about anyone who can spell or say things properly, saying "bucking" or "feck" to new gales of pant-wetting audience mirth, and a big happy swayalong at the end: it's like the worst panto ever. Perhaps after 29 March we'll be shot of it - O'Carroll's job here is done.

How did a show nobody likes become so popular?

In 2006, years before anyone in the UK had heard of Mrs Brown's Boys, comedian Brendan O'Carroll was grilled by two puppets on Irish television. O'Carroll was introduced as "the equally annoying, equally successful" creator of Agnes Brown.

So awful that it's physically painful to sit through

It will take me a long time indeed to forgive the BBC for its infatuation with Mrs Brown's Boys, which is so awful that it is physically painful to sit through. Recall, if you will, the scene in A Clockwork Orange where the violent droog played by Malcolm McDowell undergoes forcible cinematic aversion therapy. His eyelids are clamped open while he is forced to watch unspeakable acts of horror, his ordeal part of some deranged official experiment. Same here, when I get a commission to review the Christmas edition of Mrs Brown's Boys.

The long life of a critic-proof comedy

It has been called "the worst comedy ever made," but after seven years, Mrs Brown's Boys remains a hit with viewers.

Everyone likes a good mystery show: here the mystery continues as to why this series rides higher than Santa's reindeer in the ratings. Agnes wants to enter a Christmas-decoration competition, but has to tear herself away from her new wifi assistant first. Pinnacles of wit include "arse", and a raspberry noise.