The Expendables (three of them, anyway) came to the premiere of their self-entitled film in London last night. Sadly Mickey Rourke, Stone Cold, Jet Li, and (obviously) Eric Roberts couldn't be there, however Leicester Square was treated to the three main stars - Sylvester Stallone, Dolph Lundgren and Bruce Willis - sorry - Jason Statham.

Honestly, I've no idea what the film is about, nor a burning desire to be enlightened. Although, any film which features Mickey Rourke playing a character simply called 'Tool' must be giggling uproariously at itself. Then again, IMDB (AKA the Bible), just says it's an 'action/adventure/thriller... no mention of comedy. Irrespective of that, I'm sticking to my initial thought; it's about a load of expendable aging actors still trying to make action films in Hollywood.

Speaking at the premiere, Sly (who kept catching a cheeky snooze while standing up. The hands are acting as a ballast) said: "Oh man we were at the hospital every week. We had broken ankles, smashed ribs, spine injuries, you know, all the usual stuff"... that comes with the aging process.

As for the guestlist, well, that too was the very definition of expendable. Jordan's dead facesubtly showcasing her oversized bra range, and what not. There was the usual stream of ex-soap stars who thought they'd make it doing something else (Jeremy Edwards, Preeya Kalidas and Craig bleedin' Fairbrass), and desperate pop stars, old and new (Liz McClarnon, Eliza Doolittle, these three generic numpties, and Professor Green...  yep, I've lumped Green in there. Anyone who rehashes Beats International deserves to be lynched). Amir Khan rocked up with the fists, you know, for fear the crowd wouldn't have a clue who he was. In some exciting news, Lisa Snowdon seemed to be having a fussy hair day. Fear not, though, she averted a near catastrophe by taking a seat behind the press pen; first tackling it with a brush, and then throwing on a bit more make up for good luck. Then, she was ready - for the oh so sophisticated after party, held at Sylvester's presumably ailing London branch of Planet Hollywood...

The end.