In Shaun of the Dead Simon Pegg and Edgar Wright relocated George A Romero's zombie thriller from the American mall to a drab north London suburb.

Here they transport the hi-octane buddy cop genre lock, stock and hundreds of smoking barrels to the chocolate box towns of Britain's honey-coloured West Country.

Tapping into a rich vein of Wicker Man-style weirdness, they confront the curtain-twitching, parish council-dominated world of cream teas with a Glock-wielding sassiness straight out of a Jerry Bruckheimer shoot 'em-up.

Crack London cop Nicholas Angel (Pegg) is embarrassing his superiors with an arrest record 400% higher than his nearest rival. So - to spare their blushes - he's packed off to a rural backwater in the West Country.

He's partnered with the amiable PC Danny Butterman (Frost), the son of Jim Broadbent's laidback police chief and an over-eager pup who pegs Angel as the sort of big city crimebuster he's admired in Hollywood movies.

The main crimes facing the bumpkin police force that patrol the streets of Sandford are underage drinking and the odd parking offence... until townsfolk begin meeting their maker in the most grisly fashion.

The first victims are a sleazy country solicitor who is decapitated - along with his married mistress - following an amateur dramatic production of nerve-shredding awfulness.

As the body count rises, it soon becomes apparent to the clued-up Angel that something is amiss... but his new country colleagues don't seem too bothered about it.

Writers Pegg and Wright have pulled off a nifty stunt - crafting both an out-and-out comedy and a lightning paced action thriller laced with some choice violence and - nice touch this - a shoot-out down the aisles of a Somerfield supermaket.

This time the versatile Pegg plays the straight man, a humourless do-gooder, but it's Frost's splendid Danny who steals the show with a comedic tour de force as the over-eager plod spouting solid gold one-liners.

The rest of the cast may be in supporting roles - but they make every one count. Top of the pile is Timothy Dalton's supermarket boss - the Dick Dastardly of smalltown retailing - while Paddy Considine and Rafe Spall spar winningly as a useless pair of detectives.

Neatly combining a balanced array of gags and stunts, it's the most arresting British comedy in an age. Now hand Tony Scott the reigns of Where The Heart Is.

Tim Evans