I’ve wanted to see Irish Wish ever since I saw a still from the film, of Lindsay Lohan in spectacles, standing pensively by an omnibus. This told me that she was playing someone highly intelligent (e.g. someone whose favourite author might be James Joyce) but who was still, despite her massive intellect, humble enough to travel by public transport. The trailer promised hapless romantic encounters and matrimonial shenanigans against the backdrop of the beautiful Emerald Isle – all the craic you could wish for. Lindsay’s last film, Falling for Christmas, was monstrously enjoyable, and I imagined that Irish Wish would be in the same bloodless vein, replacing Yuletide with a wedding, Aspen with Ireland, festive cheese with… Irish cheese.

Well, it is that, but it’s an even bigger load of shite. I mean, I wasn’t expecting Barry Lyndon, but Jesus, Mary, Joseph and the wee donkey, I’ve never seen such a load of baloney. The question you ask yourself when you begin a viewing like this is will it be gleefully shit, insanely shit or just depressingly shit? Glad-bad, mad-bad or sad-bad? I guess it’s a bit of all three, but it’s also just bad-bad. Let me illustrate why, in excruciating detail.

Lindz plays Maddie Kelly, the terribly talented editor of the debonair and super-successful author, Paul Kennedy. We know Paul is a successful author because, like all successful authors, he has a red carpet and paparazzi at his book launch. Unbeknownst to his legion of screaming fans, Maddie practically wrote Paul’s book, ‘Two Irish Hearts’, but she would never say so because she’s incredibly modest and also inexplicably in love with him, despite the fact he can’t write and is an up-himself twat. She agonises about whether to declare her love or just continue removing dangling modifiers from his oeuvre, and is counselled in this by her mother, Jane Seymour, a school principal in Des Moines. Maddie’s mam, the erstwhile Dr Quinn Medicine Woman, likes to communicate with her daughter via Facetime while striding the corridors of her school, admonishing students. It seems odd to interrupt your working day to publicly give your daughter love life advice, but like Dr Mike, Principal Kelly is a busy woman. Anyway, Maddie’s mum on the call thinks she should have the gall to tell Paul all, but before she can let him know she’s in thrall, tall Paul falls for Maddie’s friend Emma and whisks her off to his native Ireland to marry her. Curve ball!

So now we’re in Ireland at the Kennedy family’s enormous castle (Paul’s clearly a catch), and wedding preparations are underway. Maddie’s miserable because not only did she lose her luggage and have to get a bus from the airport, but she’s the bridesmaid who wants to be the bride. When they all go on a wildly flower-festooned picnic and a random woman in a headscarf invites her to sit on a stone bench and make a wish, Maddie thinks of that sprawling real estate and yearns to be Paul’s lady of the manor, instead of that upstart ho Emma. Hey presto (or whatever leprechauns say), there’s a funny breeze and suddenly she’s back in the castle only now she’s Paul’s affianced wife – delira and excira!

Except, as the big day draws nearer, Maddie discovers that a) Paul’s a knob, and b) she’s actually in love with James, a wildlife photographer she met on the bus. Through a hapless set of romantic circumstances, she ends up jigging in a proper Oirish pub with James, while a young girl pretends to play the fiddle without moving her fingers at all. It’s well known that Celtic dancing and Guinness-drinking is guaranteed to make you fall in love with absolutely anyone, even a mediocre actor with whom you share no discernible chemistry whatsoever. Over the next few days, the leprechaun woman (Saint Brigid) keeps lurking around, like Mrs Doyle with a tea tray, only Brigid brings unwelcome truths. Go on, go on, go on – tell that posh wanker Paul you don’t love him and cancel the wedding. Get what you deserve, but didn’t have the wit to wish for, ye daft eejit.

Poor Maddie’s banjaxed - will she manage to restore existential order before the Father Callahan says ‘You may now kiss the bride’? I won’t spoil it for you except to say of course everything turns out completely fine – the romantic entanglement is dramatically untangled, Paul gets his creative comeuppance, Maddie writes a Pulitzer-Prize winning novel with her own name on the cover, and she and James… well, they go on a walk. Truth be told, the romantic endpoint is strangely muted, which could be cool in a different – better – film, but is something of an anti-climax after the silly fuss that went before.

In conclusion, the script is dire, the plotting nonsensical, the acting abysmal, the characterisation lame, the costumes unflattering and the scenery bizarre – those blooms festooning the landscape are the floral equivalent of Kate Middleton in the Windsor farm shop. But, you know, it may be bad-bad, but it’s also…er… good clean fun, and… I’m trying to think of something nice to say about it… The running time is only an hour and a half, which is mercifully brief? And I enjoyed a viewer review that said ‘I thought an AI generator wrote this movie.’ In fact, AI might have added some welcome depth and nuance.

But if this Bollockskissangel tells us anything, it’s that our Lindz has discovered a cash cow she intends to keep on milking. Netflix already have another Christmas collaboration in the works with Lohan in the form of Our Little Secret, about two exes forced to spend the festive season together. Well, good for her – she may look like Lorraine Baines McFly after her marriage to Biff, but she’s clearly raking it in and having a ball, y’all. I don’t begrudge Lindsay this wholesome Hallmark moment, because she’s had a rough old time of it and still manages to have excellent hair.

Anyway, my Irish wish is to have Maddie Kelly as my editor, because I quite fancy a red carpet and paparazzi for my next book launch. Now, where’s that magic breeze…?

• Irish Wish, Netflix