We’ve all had that fantasy.

Some Russian creep or organized group of creeps zaps your computer or that of a loved-one. They try and blackmail you to get control of it back, or get into your data and start looting accounts, running up charges.

If only SOMEbody would track them down, go in and just slaughter these too-pitiless-to-deserve-pity predators.

In some fantasies Denzel is doing the dirty dealing. Or Danny Trejo or Liam you-know-who. But most of the time, we’re thinking that bald bundle of Brit muscles Jason Statham is doing the growling, the kicking ass and settling accounts on our behalf.

That’s the zeitgeist-surfing premise of “The Beekeeper,” a B-movie in every sense of the phrase, a picture of modest ambitions, professional execution and ever-so-satisfying action-packed revenge.

“Fury” and “Harsh Times” director David Ayer returns to form and screenwriter Kurt Wimmer escapes the aftertaste of of “Expend4bles” to give Statham his best star vehicle in years, the story of a retired agent with “special skills,” a “beekeeper” whose “protect the hive” training has him going after high-born, well-connected online malefactors who are among the most hated creatures on the planet.

Of course they cast former “Hunger Games” pin-up boy Josh Hutcherson (inspired) as our wired villain, and Jeremy Irons as the retired Agency chief who’s supposed to be keeping him in line and alive.

But “If a beekeeper says you’re gonna die,” as the Oscar-winner intones,” “you’re gonna die.”

The plot is simplistic and occasionally nonsensical. This beekeeper retired to rural Massachusetts. When his elderly neighbor and friend (Phylicia Rashad) is hacked and looted, she kills herself.

Our beekeeper shrugs off a mistaken arrest by the neighbor’s FBI agent daughter (Emmy Raver-Lampman, having a blast), calls in favors and sets out to “protect the hive” by wiping out the hornets attacking it. No cops, FBI agents, private security or South African mercenaries will keep this bloke from burning, beating and killing his way “to the very top.”

A “Queen Bee,” you figure?

Wimmer must be the happiest screenwriter in Hollywood, gifted with having Irons deliver the many dire warnings about how dangerous this phantom menace is. Those plummy tones were cultivated to describe the rogue beekeeper as “probably the last pair of eyes you’re ever gonna sneer at.”

Statham, 56 and fit enough to bring the fury, benefits from impressive stuntwork — his own, his double’s and the legion of stunt men/minions he’s meant to stab, kick, punch and plow his way through. And everybody can toast the breathless editing from Geoffrey O’Brien, who should be on everybody involved’s Christmas card list after this.

The implausibility of it all is yet another weight this amped-up B-picture manages to carry. But at the end of the day, the job of this screenplay — with WAY too many “bees” and “hives” and beekeeping allegories for its own good — is to get Statham from Point A to Point “Bee,” and to give the hero as many pithy lines as our man Irons.

“I bet you don’t even estate plan,” he rumbles at our villain.

“I’m 28 f—–g years OLD,” the punk spits back. What would HE need to know about estate planning at that age?

“You’re about to find out.”

Rating: R for strong violence throughout, drug abuse, some sexual references and profanity.

Cast: Jason Statham, Josh Hutcherson, Emmy Raver-Lampman, Bobby Naderi, Phylicia Rashad and Jeremy Irons

Credits: Directed by Dvid Ayer, scripted by Kurt Wimmer. An MGM/Amazon Studios release.

Running time: 1:45