A barnstorming melodrama in which two grieving fathers (Booth and Barrett) kidnap the slimy recluse (Griffith) they suspect of being the rapist who murdered their pre-teen daughters. Having beaten him up somewhat over-enthusiastically, they stash the corpse in the cellar of Booth's pub pending disposal, only to find that he is still alive and an acute embarrassment, since they dare neither let him go nor despatch him in cold blood. Cue for some wild loony tunes as everybody concerned gets hysterically caught up in rape and violence. 'I don't know what's come over us' says Booth's wife (Collins), as she eagerly submits to sexual assault by her stepson. Done with deadly solemnity and a truly atrocious script (the characters are forever asking each other if they're all right, suggesting nice cups of tea, and saying 'I'll think of something' as the problems escalate), it's almost as hilarious as a Joe Orton farce. Poor Sidney Hayers can do nothing but go along for the ride.