Three barrels, perhaps?

In 1998, to combat the sugary, clipped-accent visions of London as shown to us by Richard Curtis (Notting Hill, Four Weddings And A Funeral), came a Madonna-marrying director called Guy Ritchie.

With this remarkable funny film, he gave the world a gritty dose of London thug life and dollops of authentic cockney accent.

By the end of the original, all the characters we like are still very much alive. The leading lads are teasingly on the very verge of great riches, and Vinnie Jones is having a blast with newfound wealth.

A new con has to be on the cards, and we need to see the not-quite-fab four again, muddling things up, blissfully free of charm.