Akshay Kumar does all odd jobs. Friend and fellow beefcake John Abraham won’t, because he has an MBA from the London School of Economics. But recession greets both our desi boys, err uncles, with pink slips and they have to find a way to buy their daily bread and beer.
Solution comes in the form of Sanjay Dutt, who gets maha impressed by the duo’s chest, biceps and a few other measurements and offers them a recession-proof job — of male escorts. Both accept the new post, but with a condition — no sex please, we are Indians. See what jingoism has done to gigolos!
So the men go to their semi-nude clients and “entertain” them with some adult fun restricted to pelvic thrusts and bare chests.
And as Desi Boyz steadily upgrades itself to a disaster, Deepika Padukone makes the process easier. Ever since John went on his knees, Padukone has been planning her fairytale wedding, gown and honeymoon. Some acting would have helped.
First-time director Rohit Dhawan then plants a chubby kid in the story as the orphaned nephew of Akshay. The custody battle for the child forms the rest of the dud by Dhawan Jr. Chitrangda Singh, as a striptease teacher, ignites some sparks with a late entry, which are soon doused with a wayward script.
Stay clear of the ‘boyz’. Save money, time and energy.
