The Legend Of Barney Thomson

If you grew up south of Gretna Green, bribe a Scot to translate the thick Glaswegian accents in Robert Carlyle’s grisly serial killer comedy. ‘Barney Thomson’ is his directing debut, mixing milky tea, suitable-for-Sunday-evening-television humour with a very heaped teaspoon of Irvine Welsh.

Carlyle, who portrayed psycho madman Begbie in ‘Trainspotting’, also stars as Barney, a charisma-free barber with a lank, greased-back mullet. After a wee accident involving a pair of scissors, a slippy floor and his boss, Barney finds himself prime suspect in the hunt for a serial killer who sends his victims’ body parts to their family members in the post. Enter Ray Winstone as a cockney copper who thinks he’s got Barney’s number.

There are more than a few false notes here – the cops are cartoonishly crap – and ‘Barney Thomson’ isn’t daring enough to make it as cult viewing. Still, the sight of Emma Thompson, wearing old-lady prosthetics and a leopard skin coat as Barney’s mum – effing and blinding like Begbie after a night on the Tennent’s – is not to be missed.