Saturday Night Live UK. What is it?!

Painful, that’s what.

Yeah, seriously. Beyond seriously unfunny. 

The show launched on Sky Saturday night with a dire Cold Open featuring prime minister Keir Starmer quivering over taking a call from Donald Trump where not one single memorable line was uttered.

Tina Fey popped up as guest host. Why? Up popped Bridgerton’s Nicola Coughlan to ask just that question. And then there was Graham Norton of The Graham Norton Show fame, to add his penny’s worth. 

Listen, I love a larf. I live for laughter. I do, really. But not one single titter, giggle or full blown gale of laughter erupted from my mouth tonight. Sighs, yawns — yes. But: No. Laughter. I’m honestly not a bah-humbug kind of bloke, but SNL UK broke me. It was missing comedy’s vital component: Wit. The wit factor had gone walkabout and was nowhere to be found. I was willing, ready and able to release laughter but it remained locked in a cold vault.

There was a sketch titled “David Attenborough‘s Last Supper,” where 10 famous Brits from Queen Elizabeth I to Princess Diana, at the height of her shy Di period as portrayed by Jack Shep, quarreled about having a starter. One of the diners mentioned something about tonight being about “scintillating conversation.” They lied, as there was none.

Another ditty, “Boovies Goes to the Film’s,” was a spoof movie show hosted by the usually reliable Hammed Animashaun (Black Ops), where he interviewed the stars of the fictitious movie Hot Streak. I could feel a hint of a smile begin to form on my face when he opined that Hot Streak “sucked all the way through” and I thought: Yeah, this show sucks all the way through, too. I smacked my emerging smile back to where it came from.

Lorne Michaels launched the original Saturday Night Live on NBC in 1975, at a time when the U.S. was starved of dangerous, cutting-edge humour on mainstream television. It broke through because it was a new form of entertainment. It was live. It was like watching a high-wire act. Will they fall off?

Over half a century later along comes SNL UK at a time when the nation is not in need of this show. There’s no hunger for it. Where can humor take us in 2026? Dangerous new heights? OK, take me there. But what was served up were stale, pale sketches that seemed to have been exhumed from some old codger’s book of gags from 19 bloody 50!

One thing that bothered me was: Why start the show at 10 p.m.? The cool cats aren’t in front of their television sets at 10 o’clock at night. My son’s traveling, but I texted him to help me understand what people of his age — and younger — do in these situations because, as I understand it, ten at night is when he goes out to DJ and stuff in London.

Duh, Dad, he wrote; no one worth their salt watches this kind of show live, he explained. If it’s any good, they will hear about it and watch a replay or clips on Instagram, Deadline (plug) or the New York Times or YouTube, which is how he (and I) watches the U.S. SNL.

So if the word of mouth is godawful then none of the cool cats will catch up with it?

Right, the son of Bamigboye responded.

The very thought of it made me laugh.