How does the creator of The Inbetweeners follow up one of the funniest British sitcoms of recent years? The answer, as it turns out, has been over ten years in the making. One cannot help but feel that the idea only came to fruition with 2013’s The Wolf of Wall Street, as fourth-wall break after tracking shot after freeze-frame pepper the six-episode series of White Gold. The runtime even equates to Scorsese’s immense three hours of sex, drugs, and investment banking. Far from the sun-soaked glamour of Jordan Belfort’s yachts and luxury villas, perhaps the real genius behind Damon Beesley’s comedy is that this world has been transplanted where you would least expect it: a double-glazing showroom in Essex.

“It is remarkable how quickly one habituates to the foul-mouthing and anal sex, and in Swan’s comeuppance it ends on a moralistic high ground.”

At its heart is Ed Westwick as Vincent Swan, a quasi-DiCaprio wanker about as charismatic as the window panes he sells. An insufferable egomaniac, Swan’s smooth hustling is amusing at first, but is soon milked to the point of stilting the plot and irritating the viewer. However, this is bizarrely the intended effect, and for many may be its highlight. It seems in the creator’s eyes this is a likeable anti-hero, with the audience rooting for him to cheat and lie his way to the top of the window game. While he never comes crashing down like Belfort, we are reminded he would never have that far to fall – maybe his son would have to return his Atari, or his wife a new mink coat. When we see just how small Swan really is, it becomes clear he is always the butt of the jokes.

Despite being the show’s anti-hero, it is his Inbetweeners co-stars that hold up the comedy, although they never break from the moulds of their former-schoolboy characters. James Buckley remains on full bullshitting form as an ‘80s Jay with a moustache, swapping his one-inch wonder for a “monster nob.” In this profession these are desired characteristics, and his sexual experiences seem to have been pulled straight out of Jay’s wet dreams. Joining him is Joe Thomas, returning as the awfully-nice-but-dim Simon who could not “sell ice to the Eskimos.” The nods to the show’s predecessor are welcome and often keep things afloat in its more repetitive moments. One cannot help but feel this is a parallel world for our beloved outcasts.

Review: All hail 'King Charles III'

There are plenty of amusements, including an officer for Inland Revenue orgasming over tax returns, and a porno making a cameo in the second half of Spielberg’s ET. But others fall flat, and whole episodes pass by with little to inspire; there are only so many jokes one can make about patio doors. Nevertheless, it is bound to entertain, and Beesley never shies away from the shockingly explicit. It is remarkable how quickly one habituates to the foul-mouthing and anal sex, and in Swan’s comeuppance it ends on a moralistic high-ground. Much of the humour comes from its attempts to make paying off tax debts and haggling over double-glazing as exciting as Goodfellas or Casino, and it is a parallel that is pulled off with surprising effects. Maybe not one to watch with your parents though