There are niche TV comedies, and then there’s Smoggie Queens. The Middlesbrough-set, drag queen-adjacent comedy is based on creator and star Phil Dunning’s life, and its first series was a singular mix of Teesside banter and allusions to UK hun culture. It was proudly weird and queer – a little Diane Morgan, a little Lily Savage – with camp cameos to boot. Steph McGovern (as herself) was the nemesis of Dunning’s prickly protagonist Dickie (their feud was established while working together on the deli counter at Morrisons), while Drag Race’s Michelle Visage played against type as a pernickety office manager named Elaine. When it wasn’t totally silly, it was also rather touching; among Dickie’s rag-tag crew of mates was “baby gay” Stewart (Elijah Young), who was struggling to come out to his family, and Mam (Mark Benton), the bewigged mother figure of the group who, we learned, was estranged from her teenage son.

This second six-episode run is an even more boutique proposition than the first – frequently funny but also frequently bizarre. Episode one is a case in point: Dickie and friends lose a white rabbit in a carpet warehouse – cue some Alice in Wonderland visuals and Stewart hallucinating that Dickie is a bunny, too. The rabbit is called Andrea, leading to such ridiculous lines as “Howay Andrea, ya silly knobhead!!!”, yelled by Mam. The high street retailer Dunelm is used as a punchline, and one character wonders whether the rabbit might be gay, too.

Similar to other BBC Three comedies du jour – see Mawaan Rizwan’s Juice, or Things You Should Have Done, masterminded by Lucia Keskin – Smoggie Queens revels in its peculiarity. In the second episode of this opening double bill, Stewart goes on his first ever date, at an Italian restaurant with a distinctly north-east England flavour. There is complimentary coleslaw on all surfaces; Dickie is briefly a sugar baby; Mam finds herself on both waitressing and toilet-unblocking duty; and the whole thing culminates in a filthy food fight. If you happened to turn on the TV at any point within that half hour, you would have probably been baffled.

But maybe that is the goal. Smoggie Queens has a loose narrative thread, but mostly it’s a warm, eccentric ramble – an inside joke of a show that fans will love, and which will probably never feel too OTT for them. One episode takes place entirely at a charity football match called Nipple Aid for people with extra areolae (slogan: “not everyone has two”), which is populated by celebrity impersonators in place of actual celebrities. Another instalment is centred on the Mr Teesside Beauty Pageant – “a competition based on beauty, talent and bulges” – where Stewart is a contestant, despite Dickie’s insistence that he is “the human embodiment of a perverted rat”.

Occasionally, though, it hits the bullseye of big, broad comedy gold. An episode about Dickie’s LGBTQ+ network having their event hijacked by the office straight pride group is hilarious, thanks mostly to the “straight” playlist choices, Agadoo, Born Slippy and the Fratellis’ Chelsea Dagger proving anathema to Dickie’s highly curated queer gathering. Similarly, a very silly bit of misdirection around the resemblance between Lucinda (Alexandra Mardell) and footballer Pablo Corzello (also played by Mardell, but dubbed by Spanish actor Vidal Sancho) had me doubled over.

There’s still a poignant side, as we learn more about Mam’s marriage and son, but it’s always undercut by calamity – Dunning is seemingly cautious of turning his show into one that focuses too squarely on trauma or discrimination. Instead, those themes are carefully, amusingly weaved into the thing, often through the oblivious perspective of Dickie. “Not a lot of people know this, but I had a hard time coming out to my family as well”, he says in episode one, keen to solicit sympathy from his ex, who reminds him that he was taken to London by his parents to see Mamma Mia! the musical. “Yes, Harrison,” he concedes. “But I wanted to see Miss Saigon!”

The final episode – dripping with ridiculousness, and bolstered by Dickie’s fake American accent and a GCSE drama-level performance to a bunch of bored care home residents – will definitely not be to everyone’s taste. But Smoggie Queens is decidedly unfussed by that. Sort of a sitcom, sort of a secret club, the people who like it will love it. And – crucially – they might come away feeling more seen, too.