"Uptown Girl" that esteemed social anthropologist Billy Joel once opined "she's been living in her white bread world".

Brittany Murphy is the uptown girl forced to quit her Hovis cottage loaf existence to earn a crust as a nanny when her crooked accountant disappears with her inheritance.

The daughter of a legendary rock star (think Jade Jagger obliged to take up childminding), Molly finds herself in charge of precocious eight-year-old Ray (Fanning).

An empty-headed social butterfly (together with her pet pig), she meets her match in the privileged playground of the order-obsessed, control-craving brat.

Imagine wading through a lake of warm treacle under a constant deluge of syrup and you'll have some idea how a diabetic would watch this at his peril.

Lifeless direction plus some truly awful acting - Murphy brings absolutely nothing to the role - makes this a particularly nauseuous experience.

You have to feel sorry for poor little child star Dakota Fanning if these are the sort of adult role models she is expected to look up to.

Slip into a stupor of incredulity as Murpy deludes herself that a pout and a flutter of the eyelashes will ever replace a waspish line delivered with the timing of the atomic clock.

Wince as ex-Neighbours star Jesse Spencer sashays into proceedings as Murphy's singing beau - a wannabe rocker who appears to consider David Bowie's Laughing Gnome phase his finest.

Barf as ballet troupe of ankle-biters twinkle around Dakota (who by this stage must be ruing the day an evil adult talked her into this) and belt out one Molly's dad's old ditties.

It's difficult to see who this so-called comedy is pitched at but the nausea it induces puts an unwelcome burden on the NHS.

Tim Evans