Adam Sandler, one of the two executive producers of this damp squib, must have talked up a storm and used his considerable charm to get this rubbish made. Sandler himself, the star of often thinly-scripted fare, does at least possess an instinctive sense of daftness, which the star of "Deuce Bigalow: Male Gigolo" (Rob Schneider) and the writers (Harris Goldberg and Schneider again) conspicuously lack. Hiring writers with no sense of humour is always a big mistake.

On then to the so-called plot, the extremely idiotic tale of an idiot, a fish-tank cleaner (Deuce Bigalow), that beggars belief. A trainspotter of the fish world, he lives for the little beasts, is perfectly happy to have no life beyond them, and so ignores all the aspects of living that would render him at least slightly civilised. Cleanliness, clothes that fit and even a few manners would go a long way with this clown. Consequently, he is derided and loathed by all and sundry, particularly by the sneering pneumatic babe in the pet-shop. A first-division geek, he is called to not only clean the tank of an oily gigolo in Malibu but also to house-sit for him; Deuce soon smashes the tank and - in order to replace it - becomes a gigolo himself.

The ongoing absurdity would be fine if it were funny, but it is deflated by the continuous volley of unfunny jokes: an old lady slips on the water Deuce spills (ho), girl guides ring the bell when he is watching porn on TV (ho ho), and on numerous occasions the pet-shop blonde dips her nipples in the fish-tank (ho ho ho). Comedy without jokes. What a laugh.