There are 12 months in a year. 12 inches in a foot. 12 days of Christmas. Jesus had 12 disciples, The Beatles had 12 albums, and D12 had their purple pills, the sum of being (probably) 12. But all those 12s pale in comparison to this set of 12: Danny Dyer’s Dirty Dozen. A dozen so dirty, so dastardly, and so devious, that it takes the Roman Numerals by the scruff of the neck and screams to their faces: You can’t count this, Rome! You just can’t! But luckily Ryan and Callum are made of sturdier stuff than the Romans ever were. Using Dyer’s sort-of autobiography ‘Life Lessons from the East End’, they’re taking the dirty dozen on bit by filthy bit. It results in a head-on collision with the world of Danny Dyer: the lackadaisical attitude to acting, the bizarre credentials he deems fit for government, and the love he devotes to the local boozer. The boys have each chucked in their own ideal Danny Dyer movie synopses, which give you a tantalising glimpse at what might have been. And what might be. Make sure you hit up the social channels, and expect plenty of swearing. There isn’t really a story to tell here, so don’t worry too much about spoilers.