The character at the centre of A Taste of Ink is certainly not one-dimensional. He sings in a heavy metal band, has recently lost his mother, is attracted to his father’s new girlfriend, is reading Charles Patterson’s Eternal Treblinka, has a Ghostbusters poster on the wall of his room, and owns a copy of FIFA 14 for the PlayStation 4 to boot.

“These attempts were jarring and off-putting, and certainly anything but funny”

In many ways it was remarkable how a character with such varied proclivities could be so very boring. Never during the film is one either convinced or intrigued by the liberally tattooed protagonist, which is something of a snag as he appears in every scene of the film.

A Taste of Ink opens with a very fine comic set piece, but quickly sets out its stall as a serious character study. Or at least I think that is what it does, because occasionally in the midst of the angst, distemper and lust there is what appears to be an attempt at making the audience laugh. These attempts were jarring and off-putting, and certainly anything but funny.

The really rather baffling ending, meanwhile, certainly was not amusing, and I rather hope that it was meant to be a metaphor for something or other, because if it truly was intended to be appreciated as it was presented, it failed by a distance considerably exceeding the fabled country mile.

The protagonist’s father was an unlikely fishmonger with a character that was tricky to pin down, and not worth the effort of trying. From time to time he would converse with his similarly elusive son and something resembling chemistry would be demonstrated, and one could feel one’s dormant sense of empathy stirring from its stupor.

The core of A Taste of Ink was not rotten, but one was permitted to look into it only in a few isolated scenes. At least it taught me how to fillet a mackerel