Justin Lee Colins and dance instructor Karen Hardy Tim Anderson/Sky1

JUSTIN LEE COLLINS: why? It’s a question many have tried to answer, but few have succeeded.

JLC is one of those curious people that no one seems to like, yet this ill-will bears no impediment to his success. He was infuriating in Bring Back…, a kind of evil ­Challenge Anneka where JLC press-ganged old TV stars into ­reuniting, thereby making them face the fact they’d done nothing of any worth since, and then hosted The Friday Night Project – a show he hosted with all the ease of a man who’s just spotted a meteor heading towards Earth, but plans to finish the show anyway.

This earned him his own ITV chat show. Being shouty and annoying led to a Sky1 series, where he mixed it up by being annoying then shouty. And now, he’s signed a multi-million pound deal with Five. This month, you can buy his autobiography – Good Times! – which comes with a free exclamation mark.

But is this unfair? Is Justin Lee Collins – who ­models himself on a Wookiee and whose catchphrases include “Get in!” and “Cheeky!” – an entertainment genius?

Tonight’s Justin Lee Collins: Ballroom Dancer does at least offer some answers.

First, he’s quite incredibly devoted to the task set. Not the actual task set, obviously – something about performing in a dance competition after training for three months – but the real task: trying to make it seem like it’s really hard, that at any moment he might quit, and that he’s going through an emotional roller coaster.

He goes on such a ride over his beard (“Oh God, I could be marked down for my facial hair”); comfortable footwear (“I had to practise, but the slippers and the carpet were not a match made in heaven”); spray tan (“I’m like milk, I can’t dance like this”; then later: “I’m ­tanorexic!”); and the concept of all competition, ever (“It’s never sat well with me, the idea of competition. I don’t want to do it”).

It’s almost impressive, apart from he’s clearly never going to quit and you don’t believe a single word he says.

The latter is what’s most infuriating. For instance, how many things does this man love? The reason he gives us for this task is that he loves Come Dancing: “It was my ­favourite show.” Yet this was the reason he took part in a similar darts show: he loves darts. And The A-Team.

Mostly, though, it’s a falseness in tone. That false comic emphasis that makes you want to slap a puppy: every line delivered as the punch line to a joke that never gets told. You want to grab him: “For the love of God man, just say a sentence that doesn’t make you sound like you’re introducing a prize fight!”

Very watchable, mind.