It’s 2007. Preston from the Ordinary Boys is angry with Simon Amstell for reading out excerpts from his then-wife and fellow Celebrity Big Brother contestant Chantelle Houghton’s autobiography. So downright livid, in fact, that he marches out of the studio. “Come on Preston, we’re having fun,” Amstell yelps, barely concealing his delight, before team captain Bill Bailey goes into the audience and grabs a man called Ed to fill the now empty seat.

It was a moment that has gone down in TV folklore. But it also signalled the beginning of the end for the music-themed panel show, setting in place a chain of events that led to its drawn-out, terminal decline.

When it started in 1996, its anarchic, piss-taking spirit felt like something fresh and rare. The surly Mark Lamarr was perfect as initial host, and when Amstell replaced him in 2006 he took what he’d done with Popworld and ran with it; he was brilliantly merciless with the guests, such as when he tore Donny Tourette from Towers of London apart (“Hello! Donny’s put sunglasses on – that’ll tell Thatcher”). Some, like Amy Winehouse, were given space to give as good as they got. After Winehouse revealed she was off to meet Pete Doherty about a collaboration, Amstell suggested working with someone nice like Katie Melua instead. “I’d rather have cat Aids, thank you,” was Winehouse’s withering reply.

But, post-Preston, it increasingly felt that Amstell, misplacing his usual self-deprecating style, was punching down: a malicious machine gun aimed at a barrelful of pop fish. Noel Fielding said Amstell’s “cruel jibes” made guests reluctant to appear, and Phill Jupitus, team captain since the show’s inception, almost quit due to Amstell’s verbal attacks: “It struck me that people were being booked especially to have the piss taken out of them … and [it] started to get a bit wearing.”

Yet when Amstell left, his biting wit was irreplaceable. There was a new focus on team captains and a “cosier” image using a series of guest hosts. It had lost its edge and, just like Preston trying to leave the studio, didn’t know where to go. There were some inspired choices of host (Terry Wogan – apparently the only time they had a standing ovation in the studio) and some puzzling guests (Gabby Logan). And, of course, we’ll always have Huey Morgan smashing his mug because he got angry with Rizzle Kicks. But Noel Fielding increasingly delivered his kooky non sequiturs about hummus and motorbikes with a look that said he didn’t want to be there. When they finally decided on a regular host, Rhod Gilbert – not as razor-sharp as Lamarr or Amstell – never seemed in his element.

Buzzcocks had always been adept at filling the gaps: Amstell for Lamarr; Bill Bailey for Sean Hughes. But it became a game of diminishing returns, and after almost 28 (twenty-eight!) series it ended with barely a whimper. When it began, one of Lamarr’s running jokes was his mock despair at how terrible the programme was. Sadly, it became prophetic. A show we had loved became as welcome as the creepy No 5 in the identity-parade round.