Three quarters of the way into our Christmas countdown, we’re relaxing our previously bird-centric attitudes to focus on the ladies who make Hollywood dainty and sweet-smelling and so on. Except for Lady Snowblood, who’s a mass murderer. And Margaret ‘Iron Lady’ Thatcher, who wore awful suits and destroyed British heavy industry more or less on a whim. And Lady, who’s a dog and reportedly spent most of her time off-camera licking her own vagina in a pile of fox shit. Ladies are unpredictable, is our point.

Imagine if Miss Congeniality had a bastard lovechild with 21 Jump Street and instead of the bastard lovechild having the face of Amanda Bynes it had the face of Miley Cyrus and the bastard lovechild was nursed and raised by Veronica Mars and you know, the thing where she’s a tomboy teenager and there’s the evil blonde girl and oh no! someone falls over and the guy is hot and oh my god oh my god this is super cute. Welcome to So Undercover.

…and smashes his way into our hearts, once again.

“That’s a load of Bullocks!” – person who doesn’t like Sandra Bullock films

None of these people look very hungry, if you ask me.

It’s that time of the week again; that ‘we all want to get home but we’ve agreed to write one of these every Friday – quick, someone pop to the shop for some vitriol and poorly conceived opinions!’ time of the week. Facing off this week are the two GIANTS of Best For Film, and they’re tackling perhaps the most pertinent issue of all: was Two Weeks Notice any good?

In these troubling times of global warming, financial crises and that nice Tiger Woods cheating on his wife, it’s comforting to know that one man alone remains staid and unchangeable: Hugh Grant. Yes, he’s pretty much played the same character for the past 20 years, but goddammit, the man does it well. His latest frothy outing with toast-of-New-York Sarah Jessica Parker is no exception – this time, a posh man is heading into the wilds of the American midwest after he and his estranged wife witness a murder.

In these troubling times of global warming, financial crises and that nice Tiger Woods cheating on his wife, it’s comforting to know that one man alone remains staid and unchangeable: Hugh Grant. Luckily, his latest frothy outing, with toast of New York Sarah Jessica Parker, is no exception to his usual bumbling-posh-man charms – this time, he’s heading into the wilds of the American midwest after he and his estranged wife witness a murder and must be relocated into a protection scheme. There’s just as many laughs, albeit predictable ones, as always, so if you’re a Hugh fan, get ready for a fun-filled 90 minnutes spent chuckling into your popcorn.