To be fair to Hot Mess Summer, it really does try to warn us. The title alone promises a queasy cavalcade of grubby inanity, obnoxious entitlement and sticky shots by the pool – and that is exactly what this new reality show serves up. Join our palpably unconvinced host, Rylan Clark, as he rounds up eight twentysomethings whose pals have grown tired of their silly antics on nights out (copping off with other people’s girlfriends, etc) and attempts to train them in the not-so-fine art of running a bar in Zante – Greek island, teen holiday destination and “home to the most astonishing parties on the planet”, apparently. Let’s just say the word “astonishing” is doing more work there than any of our contestants ever manage. But there’s a twist: our gang of liabilities have been lured to Zante under false pretences. They thought they were taking part in a series celebrating their legendary partying; in fact, their friends have signed them up for a chastising experience to teach them about responsibility and teamwork. This early revelation is hilarious, largely because none of them see the funny side: everyone from “Princess Dani” to Amin – “one of the biggest players in Sussex” (it goes without saying that these epithets are self-imposed) – is furious. Jay, the jobless “VIP” of the group, feels so betrayed that he doesn’t even know if he wants to continue. He does, of course, because what do fun-loving attention seekers want more than anything else? To be on reality TV, of course! Unfortunately, the sheer tediousness of Hot Mess Summer means it won’t catapult any of them to Molly-Mae status any time soon. The big reveal, which comes 15 minutes in, is the show’s high point by a long shot. What follows is a bleakly unappealing fusion of Love Island (two couples quickly materialise) and Young, Dumb and Living Off Mum. It also seems as if the show is half-heartedly making up the gameplay as it goes along. Punishments for transgressions seem random and mild (no one is actually fired from the bar); there is just one peer-voted eviction and one surprise new arrival; and the series of money-earning challenges have no parameters for success or failure. According to the end credits, the show is based on a 2000 Swedish series called The Bar, a successful franchise on the continent. But, in reality, it’s a Frankenstein’s monster of a format, with little jeopardy and even less opportunity to emotionally invest. Aside from brief, soundbite-riddled interviews with the friends who nominated them, we get barely any insight into the real lives of our hot messes. Instead, we witness them engage in foul-mouthed rebellion against the bar manager, Lee – a neat, handsome man who the resident loudmouth, Liv, describes as “if you got Wayne Lineker from Aldi”, which I suppose could have worked as a joke if there were even a grain of truth to it. Lee bans his staff from drinking during work hours, something this lot cannot countenance. In some cases, that seems to be due to a propensity for toddler-esque non-compliance, but in others the compulsion to drink is overwhelming and disturbing. Regardless, the constant “cheeky” swigging of shots gets boring fast – but, fortunately for everyone’s will to live, it’s not the only red line they cross. Unfortunately, the other red line may make you heave. The team have been told not to flirt or swap contact details with guests, but on day one Amin decides to spit in a guest’s mouth – an act that is, miraculously, fully consensual. Those of a delicate disposition, be warned: spitgate is brought up incessantly afterwards, largely because Amin and Dani have already coupled up by the time it happens. In the second miracle of the episode, she forgives him – but the whole thing feels less like raucous drama and more a display of romantic toxicity. Giving this whole disaster zone a sheen of legitimacy is Clark, who brings his trademark brand of arch warmth to proceedings (although the voiceover commentary could do with a bit of work; Dave Lamb on Come Dine With Me this ain’t). Yet even he can’t save the day: the contestants are too unlikable and their learnings too superficial for his teasing familiarity not to come across as false and desperate. Ultimately, there is very little reason to stick with Hot Mess Summer. If you are looking for schadenfreude, you will be irritated by the forgiving ending. If you want a redemption narrative with a knotty character arc, good luck: this lot aren’t your HBO anti-heroes. Even if you are prepared to set your bar at ground level for some sunny escapism, you will be frustrated by the bitty format and the lack of quality drama. Yes, this show is a shambles, but it’s by no means an attractive one. Hot Mess Summer is on Prime Video