Niceness is an undervalued commodity. So is gentleness. And sweetness. We could do with more of all of them in the world right now.

But like most qualities, they have their rightful place, and that place is rarely if ever in a comedy.

Our lovely little border collie, for instance, is nice and gentle and sweet. I wouldn’t want to give him three seasons of his own streaming series, though. There’s a point at which a TV show needs more than just niceness, gentleness and sweetness to get along.

Football comedy Ted Lasso (Apple TV+), which returned this week for its third and possibly final season, is already so far past that point, it’s in danger of meeting itself on the way back. Although Ted (Jason Sudeikis) being Ted, he’d no doubt greet himself with a beaming smile, a comforting arm around the shoulder and a little uplifting homily.

I’m not saying all comedy has to be edgy or outrageous. Not every sitcom needs to be a variation on Curb Your Enthusiasm. But a decent joke now and again would be nice.

It’s not that it can’t be done. The brilliant Schitt’s Creek, alas no longer with us, was sweet-natured to the core, yet it was also hilarious. In this week’s opening Ted Lasso episode, his boss, AFC Richmond owner Rebecca Welton (Hannah Waddingham), reacting to a viral video of Ted leading his players into the sewers for a motivational talk, tells him: “Everyone is laughing at us, Ted.”

Ah, if only that were true. Ted Lasso has always been conspicuously light on actual gags. It’s often broad and silly — no bad thing in a comedy — but I don’t think it’s ever made me so much as crack a smile.

I’m not alone in this. Back in 2020, many of the first season reviews, even the ones favourable towards the performances and the central character’s positive feel-good vibe, noted the dearth of laughs.

It’s hard to top Rolling Stone critic Alan Sepinwall’s description of the series as “more a hypothetical comedy than an actual one”. Credited with putting Apple TV on the streaming map, it arrived when we were in lockdown. It was a strange time when people did strange things, like developing a mania for baking sourdough bread and sharing the results on social media.

But there was nothing stranger than the sudden success of Ted Lasso. Millions of people around the world decided this uplifting series about an American college football coach from Kansas who’s brought to England to manage a Premier League club was the perfect balm we needed during those difficult days.

It didn’t appear to matter too much to its fans that it wasn’t remotely funny. They seemed delighted to have something — anything — that didn’t make them feel more miserable than they already were.

It didn’t appear to matter to the Emmy voters either, who’ve so far given it 10 awards, including two Outstanding Comedy Series gongs.

But we’re not in lockdown anymore, Toto. Things have changed. Television production is back at full throttle. There are more streamers than there were in 2020 and a bigger choice of things to watch.

In this renewed climate, Ted Lasso looks more threadbare than ever. The strain of building an entire series around a character Sudeikis originally created for 30-second skits promoting NBC’s coverage of Premier League football is showing.

As it opens, the media are predicting, before a ball has even been kicked, that newly-promoted AFC Richmond will be relegated, while West Ham United, now managed by Ted’s former assistant Nate (Nick Mohammed), are being tipped for the top spot.

No disrespect to West Ham fans, but the idea of the Hammers — currently in 17th place, one above the drop zone, in the real Premier League — challenging for the title is the funniest thing Ted Lasso has come up with so far.

Under the tutelage of West Ham’s owner, Rebecca’s reptilian ex-husband and former AFC Richmond owner Rupert Mannion (Anthony Head), nice Nate is encouraged to trash-talk his old boss, even though his heart really isn’t in it.

Ted’s response, unsurprisingly, is to turn his niceness beam up to the max, charming the media onto his side with his self-deprecation.

Alas, I’m afraid he’ll have a harder time charming me to stick with him.

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