The Last Orders (2001) of the title are for a bunch of army buddies to scatter their dead friend's ashes into the ocean. So don't expect a blood-and-guts war story. The guts on these ex-military men hang over their belts, and their blood is thin from all the pints they guzzle at the local pubs on the way. But they do a lot of reflection, not of bravery and carnage, but of broads and carnal maneuvers during wartime. Claire Harman is one of the breast of their fondle mammories. She exposes her war chest, which overflows with meaty goodness. Teresa Lloyd offers a nasty nostalgic flashback of a breast-baring prostitute. If war is hell, Last Orders is heaven.