Hard to believe I know, but this lumberingly
unfunny comedy was adapted from Donald Westlake's novel , presumably by sucking out anything resembling character, plot and heart and then stitching together a travesty from the twitching corpse.
But for anyone who appreciates even the most minuscule of narrative effort, the barrage of cliches, over-ripe cheesy dialogue and some monumentally bad overacting on the part of the lumberingly
dazed Fonda and a stratospherically OTT Karyo, this is stupefyingly woeful rubbish to which Chris Nahon's name as director must surely have been attached by mistake since this is clearly the work of a bunch of lobotomised monkeys let loose with a clapperboard and megaphone.
A streaker invaded the pitch nearing the final whistle; he lumberingly
made his way a full three-quarters of the field before being tackled by the stewards, but it had been an entirely different streak that had set Twickenham alight in the closing stages - one Jason Robinson (right).