I’m pretty sure I’m not in the right demographic for this. There again, I’m not entirely sure what that is. Where do you find an audience that will be scared by the sight of Mackenzie Crook with a really bad mullet and a plastic nose, big enough fans of Philip Glenister not to be completely turned off by his attempt at an American accent that wanders from one coast to another (stopping by various mid-west States on its journey), while at the same time wanting to watch Christian Cooke casually discarding his shirt at every available opportunity (not to mention some unavailable ones)? I think the trouble is, Demons, whose basic idea of “Torchwood meets Buffy the Vampire Slayer” could have been so promising, tries too hard to be all things to all audiences, and ends up misfiring on all counts.

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As I said, the premise is a good one. Luke Rutherford, who has so far spent an ordinary life – school, girlfriend, untidy bedroom, etc – apart from losing his father at a very early age, turns out to be the last surviving male heir of the van Helsing line. Yes, that van Helsing. Arch-vampire killer and dispenser of holy water to various demons the world over. It was that what done for ‘im, governor, many years ago in the presence of Luke’s godfather, the “American” Rupert E Galvin, who has now arrived to coach Luke and convince him to step into his father’s shoes as the next mighty smiter of the undead.

To help him, he has a vast arsenal of weapons and knowledge, assembled by the van Helsings over the centuries and looking remarkably like the headquarters of the League of Extraordinary Gentlemen, along with a winsome librarian in the shape of Zoe Tapper who although blind knows exactly where everything is kept, what it’s for, and how to use it.

So far, so predictable, but at this point Demons begins to unravel, somehow managing the difficult feat of simultaneously being both formulaic and unbelievable. With no prior training, knowledge of, or experience in handling demons, Luke exhibits no fear, no surprise and no hesitation in dispatching the supposedly powerful Gladiolus Thrip (Crook) and his henchman Redlip (Martin Hancock). That’s after he’s taken a stout pole to the “Noisy Boys” – three lads with dogs’ heads who appear to be Demons’ equivalent to the Weevils from Torchwood.

I suppose we’re meant to believe Luke, being a van Helsing, has been born to this life and has a kind of racial memory with which to instantly become the smiter he was always meant to be. It didn’t work for me. And neither did the dialogue. Having Philip Glenister essentially apply a mid-Atlantic veneer to his Gene Hunt character and deliver lines like “stand still while I smite thee, freak,” had me laughing out loud rather than cheering his chutzpah or cringing in terror.

OK, this is pre-watershed stuff so we expect the writers and director to have to rein in the horror, but at the very least Demons needs to decide whether it’s a drama or a comedy. We know that undead characters can be funny – you only have to watch the fabulous Being Human to see that – but they can’t be funny AND scary at the same time. Worst of all is a drama that doesn’t take itself seriously. Demons has been called “the British Buffy” but while the actors so patently don’t believe what they’re doing, or the words they are speaking, and instead are camping it up and playing the whole thing tongue-in-cheek, there’s no way it can stand the comparison.

From the teaser-trailers it seems that rumours of Thrip’s death have been greatly exaggerated. He may have dissolved into shreds but he’ll be back. I thought it all looked a bit easy. But if he’s the scariest thing Demons has to offer then the remaining five episodes will play out effectively as repeats of the first, where all Luke has to do is choose the right weapon and turn up, and Demons can safely be consigned to the bin marked “Bonekickers.”