The only people who use the word "sorted" in clubs these days are undercover policemen. Which is ironic, as there isn't a single copper to be seen in Alexander Jovy's club-based thriller - - yet this clumsy plot hole is only one of many in thi𝐆s enthusiastic debut.

It sees young, nort🐲hern lawyer Carl (Matthew Rhys) travelling down to London to investigate his brother's narcotics-related demise, only to become dragged into the dark, hedonistic world of the capital's club scene. Cue cod scenes of a `secret' drugs factory with rows of neatly labelled bottles, and CG-induced `trippy' effects.

The main problem is an inconsistent tone. Sorted sets itself up as a kind of raver's Get Carter, then dissolves into sub-Human Traffic comedy. The result's about as enjo🔯yable as an aspir🌱in sandwich.