DEUCE BIGALOW, MALE GIGOLO

Directed by Mike Mitchell. Starring Rob Schneider

With Jim Carrey having decided to go all serious, and Adam Sandler presumably next to follow, it has fallen to Saturday Night Live refugee Rob Schneider - writer and star of the infernal Deuce Bigalow - to assume the position of America's cinematic King of Smut.

Whatever your opinion of his comic talents, the guy has one serious nose for the lowest common denominator, and utilises it to maximum effect in this puerile toilet-humour shitfest, which misfires one juvenile gag after another and laughs all the way to the box-office in the process.

Pitched at a level which makes the Farrelly Brothers look downright sophisticated, Bigalow stars Schneider as a nerdish fish-tank cleaner who gets talked into looking after the swanky beachside apartment of a Latino gigolo, before accidentally trashing the guy's house and realising he has to go on the game himself to pay for the damages.

Thus begins one of the most excruciating episodes in the entire history of world cinema, as our hero finds himself forced to provide pleasure to a variety of crude and condescending stereotypes of womanhood. To wit: a gigantic 50-stone blob named Jabba the Slut, a woman so tall her head won't fit in the frame, a girl with Tourette's Syndome who spends the whole time shouting things like 'Piss-face!' at unwary passers-by, and other delightful specimens.

Nevertheless, if there had been some trace of good-natured silliness or comic originality in the entire thing, Schneider might have been onto something. However, not only does he lack any taste or comic flair whatsoever, he also suffers from the distinct disadvantage of not being able to write a script to save his life. I don't mean that the subject matter offends me - I mean he can't come up with any way at all of rendering it funny, and he didn't even have the decency to leave the script to someone who knew what they were doing.

The phrase 'you sad, pathetic little tosser' leaps to mind all the way through the film's interminable 90 minutes, but it would be a mighty surprise indeed if Schneider were to end up as anything other than a massive cultural phenomenon.

Deuce Bigalow, Male Gigolo is enough to send you into a paroxysm of fond nostalgic pining for the worst excesses of Sandlerism: the reign of terror starts here.