Ostensibly an unflinching examination of the deterioration of society and the ineffectuality of the law, Nick Love’s latest kick to Britain’s underbelly is actually just a testosterone-soaked copy of ‘Vigilantism for Dummies’.

Danny Dyer fronts up as Dekker, a city boy plagued by nightmares of vicious boy racers at night while being hassled by a brutish colleague at the office.

Meanwhile, soldier Bryant (Bean) returns from Iraq to be greeted by sneering hoodies and the sight of his wife in the arms of another man. On top of that, the scum who cut up his old CO’s son (Rupert Friend) are back on the streets.

Prosecutor Munroe (James) is also pushed to the edge while working alongside Hoskins’ disgruntled copper Lewis to send down London’s biggest crimelord. The case is good news for his career... but not for his pregnant missus.

Bringing them all together is hotel security guard Hillier (Creep’s creep, Sean Harris), a nutter whose obsession with retribution persuades Bryant that summat’s to be done. He moulds them into a vigilante unit.

But other than causing a couple of backstreet dust-ups and nicking a vanful of Manning’s money, they do little to earn the media attention that sees them dubbed ‘The Outlaw Gang’.

The Mild Bunch would be more accurate.

For a bloke who slunk away without a word after being locked out of his own home by his cheating wife, Bryant isn’t afraid to give it the big ‘un about what he’s going to do to all the evil-doers.

Dekker’s motives are equally unconvincing. Going postal because of a nasty workmate and the odd bad dream? Sort it out, mate.

Low on credibility, high on machismo and with no sense of humour, both plot and characters become very dull very quickly.

Love justifies all the unpleasantness by layering on injustices with a crowbar (and lots of BBC news bulletins). But he’s on very shaky moral ground.

You really have to question the intentions of a movie for which the official website presents a game where players can pick up an AK-47 and gun down Gary Glitter, Ian Huntley and Fred West.

"What’s wrong with this picture?" ask pop doom-mongers Placebo on the soundtrack. And well they might.

Elliott Noble