Balls of Steel
(Channel 4. Friday. 10PM (Sadly finished)

Some people accuse Balls of Steel of promoting anti-social behaviour – which is hardly the sharpest observation. Strip away the fast-foot hurling, public ridiculing and happy slapping from Balls of Steel and there really isn’t much left. To say that Balls of Steel promotes anti-social behaviour is like saying The God Channel promotes Christianity.

But it’s not just anti-social behaviour which is portrayed as hilarious and wholesome fun. There’s homophobia too (A regular sketch involves propositioning the public with the riotously funny catchphrase ‘Fancy a bum?’) and the mocking of the physically disabled (Another involves a female contestant pretending to have an outrageous limp to test the reaction of the menfolk).

The Guardian’s Sam Wollaston calls this ‘the televisual equivalent of a kebab’ – again, not the most acute analysis. You can work that much out from the programme’s time slot: 10PM on Friday, on Channel 4 – the home of lowest-common-denominator post-pub idiocy.

But let’s extend Wollaston’s metaphor a bit. Sometimes you’re KFC drunk – it’s 11PM and you’re drunk enough to show a reckless disregard for the titans of capitalism, and buy a KFC. Other times you’re kebab drunk – it’s 2AM and you’re drunk enough to show a reckless disregard for the fundamentals of food hygiene, so you go for a kebab.

Imagine Charlotte Church is Channel 4’s KFC (Not hard to imagine – she’s greasy, heavily manufactured and devoid of any goodness whatsoever). Then Balls of Steel is Channel 4’s kebab – it’s what they screen when they can’t even get Charlotte Church or Alan Carr. The phrase ‘bottom of the barrel’ was invented for moments like this.

So what delightful jokes does Balls of Steel offer? Well there’s Neg – a man whose obnoxious behaviour proves he’s perfectly suited to his caveman sounding moniker. His idea of a good time (And Balls of Steel’s idea of a ruddy good laugh) consists of leaping on the back of a member of the public, and riding them how a cowboy would a horse.

Then there’s Thalia Zucchi – former member (alongside such fountains of talents as Darren from Hollyoaks) of little remembered nineties’ pop band allSTARS*, a band whose delightful television show STARStreet ironed out the path for Miami 7 and the Spiceworld movie. Her slot is dedicated to testing the tempers on unsuspecting females.

And then there are Mike ‘Pancho’ Locke and Dainton Pritchard performing a regurgitated version of their Dirty Sanchez routine. They’re still hammering nails between their toes and rubbing raw onions in their eyes like YouTube was never invented.