★★★★☆

THE Mighty Boosh creator/stars Julian Barratt and Simon Farnaby bring their daft and weird sensibilities to this glorious silly spoof of all those tacky, pleather-wearing ‘80s TV detectives you only really see now in marathon re-runs. And boy do they mine it for all the comedy that it’s worth.

Richard Thorncroft (Barratt) is a deluded has-been actor who was once the star of the Bergerac-esque titular detective show, which saw him solve crimes on the Isle of Man with the use of his truth-seeing bionic eye. 30 years later, equipped with a beer belly instead of his famous optic weapon, he finds himself relegated to doing low-rate TV adverts for orthopaedic socks while desperately hanging onto his former glory.

After mucking up an audition for Sir Kenneth Branagh no less (just one of many, many celeb cameos used to rib-tickling effect), he is called back by reluctant Isle of Man police in order to stop a psychotic, obsessed Mindhorn fan known as “The Kestrel” (Russell Tovey) who will only negotiate with his TV hero.

However, Thorncroft’s motivation seems to be less about solving the case and more about impressing his estranged ex-wife and former co-star Patricia Deville (The Babadook’s Essie Davis).

There’s no denying this feels like a half hour sitcom stretched out to feature length and, given the creators prime experience, it might ultimately be best suited for the small screen. But it’s packed with so many genuine jokes that straddle the line between silly and genius that it hardly matters.

It’s like a machine gun of gags; even if you don’t find one particularly funny, there will be another along in a few seconds to make you giggle.

The greatness lies in the central character, a fabulous comedy creation worthy to stand alongside Alan Partridge, his closest companion in his egotism, delusion of competence and obsession with spouting the catchphrases of his glory days.

Steve Coogan’s presence as one of Thorncroft’s now rich ex-colleagues – coupled with the overall small-scale crisis plotting and him being a producer on the film – only highlights the debt it owes to the Norfolk radio DJ and in particular his 2014 big-screen outing, Alpha Papa.

But it’s a testament to Farnaby and Barratt’s writing that Mindhorn manages to feel like it genuinely has existed in one form or another for decades and is not just a freshly minted creation.

Bolstered by Barratt’s perfectly pitched lead performance that brilliantly sells the pomposity and desperation, he’s a delightful throwback to behold as he’s let loose on a joke-a-minute, celeb cameo-filled romp to the place of his past fame and a danger that he’s hilariously inept at handling.