This is just one of the gags levelled at the Middle East crisis which You Don’t Mess With the Zohan dares to utter. But it doesn’t stop there.

Zohan (Adam Sandler) is an Israeli. His character is a heady mix of James Bond, Neo from the Matrix and Frank Drebin of Naked Gun and Police Squad fame.

A crack counter-terrorist feared by all of Palestine, Zohan is the most unlikely superhero to grace the big screen.

But his dream is not to fight. The futility of the perma-conflict in his homeland finally takes its toll on Zohan, and forces him to fake his own death in a bid to flee the torment of war.

That aforementioned futility of combat is the didactic running through the movie, but rather than become tiresome, it just gets funnier and funnier.

“People hate us because they think we’re terrorists,” cries a browbeaten Palestinian. “People hate us because they think we’re you,” retorts an irate Israeli.

And so ad infinitum in this movie’s quest to extract humour from a bloody battle that has ebbed and flowed for the best part of 100 years.

Quips relating to people’s mothers ‘giving it up’ as easy as Gaza Strip was by Israel to militants are equally fair game, and the fact that the pangs of these poison arrows are fired betwixt Israeli and Palestinian immigrants takes the edge off what is a potential tinderbox – that and Sandler’s abject ridiculousness.

By extrapolating the ideologies of the Middle East conflict and subjecting them to a riot of stupidity, Sandler and co manage to shed more light on the crisis than any politician ever has, whilst at the same time firing out enough funnies to keep you gurning, grinning, cringing and guffawing throughout.

The crux of the tale lies in The Zohan’s dream to cut hair. Somewhere in between faking his own death in a fight against his nemesis – The Phantom – and arriving as an immigrant to America, Zohan becomes Scrappy Coco.

In a bid to follow his dream and become a world renowned hair stylist, Scrappy hunts down a job in a salon.

Having been laughed out of town at the local super salon, he is forced to accept a job at a Palestinian shop.

Of course, the owner of the store is a flawlessly beautiful owner who just happens to be a damsel in distress at the mercy of a multi-national entrepreneur who is hell-bent on flattening her business to make way for a mall.

What ensues from here on in is where the cringing comes in.

In essence, Scrappy’s reputation percolates into the neighbourhood by virtue of his sexual prowess.

The ladies flock from far and wide to experience his unique hair cutting technique, which basically involves him servicing his clients who are all eligible for a bus pass.

I’m not entirely sure how this movie got its 12A rating.