PRESENT TENSE:Sadly, the best of English TV comedy will not be much in evidence in the coming jingoistic weeks across the water

THERE ARE A few advantages to being on an island that acts as a leaky umbrella to Britain, but chief among them is how we get to mooch off that country's television. It gives us soaps, documentaries, drama, chat shows, Doctor Whoand kids' programmes. It gives us talent shows so popular that TV3 can buy them in wholesale, run them simultaneously and still make a few quid from them. It is the best television in the world – maybe not in every facet, but collectively it is quite something. And most of us on the island don't have to pay for the making of it.

We take it for granted, but as the summer approaches and RTÉ’s prime-time schedule resembles the Gobi desert (TV3’s is the Sahara) you’ll find yourself unwittingly rescued by something on one of the British channels. In a summer of sport, the Irish channels will offer a sparkly lure, but if England is getting beaten in the World Cup, you’ll have the joy of turning over to watch the platitudes crawl dying from the pundits’ mouths. We should cherish such moments.

And there are other advantages. This year, we can watch James Corden – now Britain’s most ubiquitous television presence – and can be grateful that he’s not one of ours.

He is, I’m afraid, very definitely one of theirs. Well, he’s one of England’s. I’m not sure that the Scots or Welsh can be as keen on him as the English – a situation unlikely to change during a World Cup in which British television screens will come painted with a St George’s cross.

Corden has an ITV show running throughout, and it will be interesting to see if the smartness of Frank Skinner and David Baddiel's mid-1990s Fantasy Football Leagueshow – a genuine turning point in soccer's place in popular culture – will come full circle with Corden's bellowed oafishness. You may already have seen him singing a World Cup song on the final of Britain's Got Talent, leaping around at the head of a posse of England fans. It was the most apt place to find him, because his style is about jokey aggression and beered-up bravado. When on stage, he really doesn't need to open his mouth any more. Instead he could just do the hand-mime for wanker every time a thought enters his brain.

It’s an extraordinary thing about England that it can spawn the brilliance of a David Mitchell or Harry Hill. It can sometimes produce a sharp mind that puts itself to crafting great jokes with an Englishness at their heart which you can appreciate and be thankful for. And yet sometimes it gives the world a James Corden.

As a comedian, he made his name through a decent but overhyped sitcom, Gavin and Stacey, and then dismantled it again with a truly terrible sketch show with comedy partner Mathew Horne. Since then, though, he has carved out a niche as lardy lad with a line in deprecation.

At Christmas, he was on The BBC Sports Personality of the Year. During the show, the camera cut to him and he was on the phone. It turned out he was there to film a Sports Relief sketch, playing his Gavin and Stacey character, Smithy, as if he was making a speech at a mate’s wedding, replacing witticisms with a blared slagging of sports stars. The sketch lasted longer than a Wimbledon final.

Little in his appearances since suggests that Corden is far removed from his Smithy character, and on this occasion he managed to face the self-satisfaction of that famous BBC programme and out-smug it all on his own. That was an achievement of sorts.

He delivers his shtick with a layer of irony, emphasised by a “mate” thrown in at the end, or a comedy shrug of the shoulders. But the layer turns out to be very, very thin. Because this week, while presenting an awards ceremony, he found himself in a verbal scrap with actor Patrick Stewart, out of which neither emerged with great dignity. It was horrible to watch.

Stewart walked into trouble by criticising Corden for standing behind him with his hands in his pockets, looking bored. He then failed with a follow-up jibe about how he could see Corden’s belly from the audience.

But given that Corden actually patted one of the world’s greatest stage actors while saying “we can all see you dying right now”, it’s fair to say that his arm can be raised in victory in that race towards indignity. Although when his arm is up there, he’ll probably do that hand-mime.