Mick Hartley

A broadsheet reviewer of a British film (unless it's by Ken Loach) starts off assuming it'll be terrible. Well, it's British, isn't it? With Guy Ritchie – married to Madonna, famous posh mockney – there's just no hope. His latest, "RocknRolla", was always going to be panned (though to be fair the Times man Kevin Mayer, despite himself, quite liked it). I imagine this review, by the Guardian's Peter Bradshaw, was already written before he even saw the film:

That title of Mr Guy Ritchie's new featcha. Means geeza. Or mobsta. Top bruisa. In his London manna. Sad to say, the film's a shocka. A right depressa. Bit of a dispirita. For this directa, it ain't exactly a departcha. And the title means as well as everything else Mr Ritchie's become a dodgy spella. What a dismaying orthographical decline since his last pictcha. Which we must now think of as Revolva. This was influenced by the belief system known as Kabbala. Rememba? Espoused by his spouse, whose name may originally have been spelt "Madonner".

It goes on like that, unbelievably, for the whole review. The BBC website linked to it yesterday because they thought it was such a classic. I'm sure Peter Bradshaw thinks it's a classic. It's so horribly teeth-grindingly smug it makes me feel a warmth towards Guy Ritchie which, to be honest, I'd never have expected of myself.