The ingredients: (1) A very bored chain smoking Billy Bob Thornton without yellow fingers. (2) The femme fatale who is consumed by all things sexual like a female cat on heat. She doesn't work, prepare food or go shopping but instead prances around all day in her underwear in her flat in case male visitors arrive. She has also been living in the neighbourhood for a year but the boys never noticed before. How come? (3) The posh gentlemen who prefers to hang around in sleazy underground bars all by himself where he has no friends and doesn't fit in. (4) The dart player scumbag who squints his eyes and pulls faces every time he speaks as if someone emptied a bottle of lemon juice in his eyes. (5) The kid in a dinosaur suit who behaves like a total gremlin and has to be stopped physically or he will eat the furniture. Where can it go to from here? Only downwards, and we didn't even get to see her boobs.
Review of London Fields
