The Shouting Men

Oh, the misadventures that befall a bunch of Gillingham football supporters as they tootle north towards Newcastle in a mental health minibus. Inside, the satnav goes haywire and the passengers are fractious. There are fart jokes and wee jokes and knob gags a-plenty. "I like a trump as much as the next man," complains one character as the obligatory fat bloke keeps stinking up the bus. The Shouting Men, by contrast, stinks up the cinema. Yes, there is still a place for the unreconstructed British comedy, shot on a shoestring and stuffed full of Carry-On types. But on this evidence, that place is down the toilet.