Sunday evening: I’m sat watching a rerun of The Chase with a bowl of vanilla ice-cream. (Alright, I voluntarily chose vanilla ice-cream. I gettit. I’m boring. Move on.) I was on cloud fecking nine. And then my boss sent me a text.

“Can you come in to work tomorrow at 5AM?”

What did I do to deserve this? Was I Pol Pot* in a past life? (*Not to be confused with the winner of the first series of Britain’s Got Talent, Paul Potts.) Not only did my ice-cream melt; not only did I miss the chance to see any more of that electric banter between contestants and Mark ‘The Beast’ Labbett, but if I fell asleep the very millisecond I got that text from my boss, I’d have had five hours sleep by the time my alarm went off the following morning.

In a dazed state of autopilot, what could possibly make this day better? How about a free trip to see the 2017 comedy, Snatched? No. That made is a lot, lot, lot worse.

Snatched sees Amy Schumer as Emily, a recently single woman who was dumped weeks before her couple’s vacation to an island retreat. She then persuades her mother, Goldie Hawn, to go with her, after some hilarious comedic banter about old people not knowing how Facebook works. See, it’s funny because Goldie’s in her 70s and she doesn’t know what messaging is. And – and – nah. I’m still not finding it that funny, either.

The duo – who, in a genre-defying formula, are polar opposites when it comes to their personalities – are then kidnapped by a group of men, led by Dr Timmy Tamborine. Okay, that’s not his name. I don’t know what his name is, frankly, because I couldn’t care less about him. He was a bloke with bad facial hair and dodgy, lairy shirts. Stop stealing my schtick, Dr Timmy!

Considering the leading pair – Schumer and Hawn – are two hugely talented cast members, it’s a shame that this movie is just so, well, meh. Some of the jokes are predictable; “Now, how about we put Christopher Meloni’s totally disposable character on the edge of a bottomless ravin, with nothing but a loose, withered vine? No-one will see what’ll happen next. LOLPMSL.” Some of the jokes are unnecessarily gross; “Imagine if Goldie Hawn mishears ‘welcome’ as – wait for it – ‘whale cum’. I would help write the screenplay, but I’ve gotta write my Oscar acceptance speech”. And some of the jokes just aren’t really that funny. With punchier, smarter gags, it could have been forgiven for Snatched’s totally uninspired plot of mother/daughter learning traits from one and other. Sigh.

Don’t get me wrong; every cast member plays their part well – Amy and Goldie seem to have good chemistry, and they bounce off of one and other. It’s down to some questionable choices by director Jonathan Levine. Which is such a shock – I mean, he produced Mike and Dave Need Wedding Dates. It was almost a certain winner, surely. The supporting cast are in the film so scarcely, they could barely support a wonky table. Christopher Meloni definitely didn’t die… No matter how much it looks like he would. The writer, Katie Dippold, isn’t that silly to do that. And Joan Cusack, who’s great in School of Rock, High Fidelity and Broadcast News, really got to show off her comedic talents by not saying a single line and gurning.

It’s not that Snatched isn’t a bad film; it’s just not for me. Or for you. Or for about 98% of cinema-goers. Snatched will be one of your favourite movies if you’re into obnoxiously loud EDM music set to slow-motion party scenes or clichéd stereotypes based on age and weight. At least there’s some pretty hilarious gags about boobs and semen. Because Goldie Hawn thought she said “whale cum”, but she actually said “welcome”. My copy of Cactus Flower is currently tightening a noose around its neck.