Jason Statham gets his kit off, and gets it on with a Ukrainian redhead, in the latest of the Transporter installments. This is, I guess, what counts for emotional development in the movies, nowadays.

Reprising his role as the taciturn Frank Martin, the lithe, wiry, balletic Mr. Statham is once again forced into service driving a package from Marseilles via Budapest through to Odessa. Factor in a few adrenalin pumping car chases, some well-choreographed fight scenes, and a lot of product placement, and you’ve got the makings of successful movie franchise that shows no sign of slamming on it’s armoured Audi A8 W12 brakes any time soon.

Transporter 3 is a fun and fairly mindless way to spend an evening – if you can ignore the humungous holes in the plot. When Valentina – who at this point has been kidnapped from a sweaty night club in Ibiza, shipped across Europe in the back of a car, peed on the floor of a service station and had sex in a field – leans across and says seductively; “You know what I am thinking about now”, my equally irritating Redhead muttered “A shower??”