Even by the low standards of recent years, the relief provided by this year's Red Nose Day was anything but comic. Not for the first time, the majority of comedians and guest presenters involved reneged on their end of the bargain by performing a series of smug, embarrassingly half-baked, poorly written and barely rehearsed sketches masquerading as humour in exchange for alms. Despite their largely pitiful attempts, the British public once again surpassed themselves by digging deep and breaking all previous Comic Relief records of generosity with pledges and donations which will help make a difference to millions of lives in both Britain and Africa.

And while it may seem churlish and mealy-mouthed to criticise the successful attempts of celebrities to raise money for charidee, it is only fair to point out that the general public - those with the least to gain from this scarlet-schnozzed behemoth of benevolence - have once again been grievously short-changed by those who benefit most. By raising money and awareness, the celebrities involved all raise their own profiles as well. The least they could do for us in return is raise a few laughs.

The cracks in the Comic Relief façade have been all to apparent for some years now, and they certainly aren't wise. It ain't rocket science, but these days the seemingly simple Red Nose formula is not so much tried and trusted as tired and rusted: lame comic interludes - often appearing in the form of what amounted to hastily scribbled sitcom and soap opera promos - liberally sprinkled with often harrowing reports showing where and how the money raised by Groucho club members each year is used to help the underprivileged of the third world. As it is clearly money that is very well spent, it is a shame it isn't quite so hard earned.

However, it appears the Comic Relief consumers have finally sat up, taken notice and are finally getting restless. No sooner had a naked Billy Connolly tripped merrily around the statue of Eros in London's Piccadilly to raise money for Comic Relief than the BBC switchboard was inundated with complaints from irate viewers who found the spectacle of a gregarious Scotsman prancing about in the buff obscene and tasteless. They were right to complain. Securing the services of someone as amusing as the Big Yin for the comedy world's annual self-congratulatory orgy of fundraising and back-slapping and then squandering his talents by having him perform a task even Chris Evans has mastered is grossly offensive to a public who, year after year, continue to donate money hand over fist despite the increasingly appalling quality of comedy entertainment they get in return. I mean, please, does anyone have even the foggiest idea what that EastEnders debacle was all about?

Although he seems like a nice enough bloke whose heart is in the right place, Lenny Henry, the public face of Comic Relief, personifies everything that is self-righteous, arrogant and conceited about the sinking ship Comic Relief and all who drown in her. Like the whole Red Nose experience, Lenny used to be funny, but it's a sad reflection on the career choices he has made in the past 15 years that a generation of - not necessarily Rwandan - teenagers have grown up not actually knowing that he's a comedian.

You certainly couldn't tell it from his embarrassing stint as co-presenter of Comic Relief, in which his attempts at harking back to the glory days of lovable Lenny were so unbelievably poor that, by the end of his shift, he was reduced to sitting on the sofa frantically mugging for cheap laughs from the studio audience while his "straight man" Zoe Ball performed heroics in her attempts to stop the whole show dying lamentably on it's arse.

Then there was Stephen Fry, an undeniably funny man who was seemingly present for no other reason than he is Stephen Fry, an undeniably funny man. His brief for the evening? He didn't have one. One can only assume that he turned up with the best of intentions only to be told by the powers that be that there was no sketch or script of any kind written for him. Instead, he conveyed all the signs of a performer asked to shuffle out there and fop about in a Stephen Fry fashion for a few minutes in order to kill time.

Ditto for Harry Hill, Vic & Bob, John Cleese and everyone who took part in Have I Got Buzzcocks All Over, an ironic sideswipe at a genre of television show that has been a parody of itself for far longer than most television executives would care to admit. Then again, there's no reason why these celebrities should waste their time making any sort of concerted effort to impress. After all, they're donating their time for free and, as they never tire of reminding us, it is for charity after all.

Those grin reapers who did make a half decent effort were few and far between: The League of Gentlemen, Steve Coogan and Peter Kay, Ted & Ralph (& Robbie) and Ali G were the only highlights of a six-hour marathon that at times verged on the excruciating. The occupants of the Celebrity Big Brother house were game for a laugh too, although the highlights: Vanessa Feltz's "mental breakdown" (she wrote big words on a table and cried) and

Jack Dee's "sensational escape bid" (he

opened and walked through an unlocked

door), spoke volumes about the debacle.

Jack Dee himself put it best by announcing

that the highlight of the week's incarceration for him was the fact it meant he couldn't

watch Comic Relief.