Code Name: The Cleaner

While every year throws up its fair share of bona fide stinkers, Les Mayfield’s thoroughly risible ‘Code Name: The Cleaner’ manages – with relative ease – to plant its crusty white flag atop 2007’s inverted Mount Olympus of awfulness. Cedric the Entertainer (an undeserved epithet if ever there was one) heads up this noxious brew of sexism, homophobia and casual racism as fast-talking nincompoop, Jake, who one morning wakes up next to a dead FBI agent with a bout of amnesia and is made to think that he’s a daring secret agent named The Cleaner. Of course, it quickly transpires that he is actually just a lowly mop-and-bucket technician, as the film then forces some nasty moral messages on us about how certain (black) people should be thoroughly grateful for their menial jobs. It’s all intended as a cheeky ‘Bourne…’ parody, except this film is about as classy as a coat-hanger abortion. Do anything: rob a petrol station, superglue your eyelids together, chew on broken glass, just avoid at all costs.