Alastair Sim, he of the graveyard smile and air of antic melancholia, is here at his black-comedy best as a professional hitman out to bump off a pompous city tycoon. The plot, adapted by producers Frank Launder and Sidney Gilliat from their stage play, is mostly standard West End farce stuff with much running around and misreading of motives, coupled with a throwaway score. Robert Day, making his directorial debut, never quite gets to grips with his material – and allows George Cole, as the vacuum-cleaner salesman who inadvertently screws up Sim’s plans, to overdo the lovable-bumbler schtick. Still, there’s a cast of cherishable British thesps (Terry-Thomas, Dora Bryan, Raymond Huntley, Richard Wattis) and the film comes to life every time Sim, with his lugubrious eyes, grave voice and faultless comic timing, re-enters the scene. Affinities with Ealing comedy aren’t surprising – Ealing veteran Basil Dearden lent an uncredited hand with the direction. No extras.