Harper, seen previously in similarly masculine films like The Football Factory, Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels and Screwed, also stars as protagonist Mickey, a London gangster who has built a drug-dealing empire with his cousin, Ray (Craig Fairbrass). While Mickey is still turned on by their nefarious business, Ray is hoping to transition into a more legitimate life after decades of crime. However, when a new shipment – their last before Ray moves on – is lost in the North Sea, they find themselves in debt to the Russian mob, and on the run from a team of tenacious coppers. The screenplay, co-written by Harper, is full of blokey cod-philosophy, moving from characters declaring ‘our way of life is coming to an end’ to a curtain-call rallying cry of ‘carpe diem’. It makes a bid for international scope by shifting the action from London grime to the grim (and lads-mag sexist) hedonism of Amsterdam, but there is something parochial about the script’s obsession with Brit-geezer touchstones, from World War 2 to football hooliganism. To tie together this tale of bent cops, crime bosses, cockneys and russkis, Harper relies on that attractive but unsatisfying friend of the voice-over narration, packing in plenty of exposition to the point where twists and turns are telegraphed way in advance. To make matters worse, it seems that the three-headed role of star, writer and director has affected the actor’s performance. The narration itself makes Harrison Ford’s laconic, phoned-in Blade Runner voice-over seem charismatic, while there are points throughout where Harper’s energy and delivery seem to sag, and certainly don’t suit a character whose street nickname is reportedly ‘Mad’ Mickey. Perhaps Harper was calling in a few favours here, and slotting in shoots when actors were available, but the underwritten script and undercooked direction squander what could be an engaging ensemble. However, this is symptomatic of the quick, cheap and somewhat uninspired nature of the project. The production and set design are non-existent, and scenes take place on the streets of London in favour of scouting out interior locations, or spending money on more studio time. Perhaps the budget went on, amongst other things, the sequences where Ray and Mickey elope to the continent, but despite such a stretch, St George’s Day is lacking in ambition, flair and originality. For all its swagger, it’s just another cockney gangster movie – and not a very good one at that.