Last night’s Apprentice was a winner. It’s good to see it back. Old Pa Sugar was on form as he listened to the explanations describing how one team went chaotic and the other split into two sub-teams of ‘cockneys and toffs’. A crowded and hard-to-follow episode, probably because there are 16 of the bastards to get through.
Last night he separated the girls and boys and set them to the task of selling fishies down a market of their choice in dirty ol’ London Tairn.
Young Alex, a budget Ethan Hawke who the ladies already seem to love, stepped up to accept the role of Project Manager whilst all the other lads bickered like little shitbags about it. Raef in particular decided to immediately stick his neck out in order to display to his fellow players that he was the peacock alpha-twat of the group.
‘Look at me!’ he seemed to yell – ‘I’ll be your Tre, your Saed for this series! Every opportunity I get I’ll make myself look like a panto villain for larks and chuckles!‘…
The project management delegation was interspersed by vox pops from the contestants. Sara excelled in this to-camera self-celebration, trotting out an aggressive spiel, but really nervously – with the effect of her looking like a completely adorable psychopath. The sort of girl who’ll win your heart whilst stabbing you repeatedly in the leg with a scalpel. Bless ‘er. She continued in her tender, fixated beration as all the ladies squawked at a hapless fishmonger they’d decided to quiz – barking queries at the poor sod like he was in Guantanamo.
Both teams decided to sell fish down at Chapel Market – a market attended by unemployed misfits missing teeth. The perfect demographic for blowfish and lobster.
The girls started selling immediately. Without actually looking at what they were selling. Sugababe Lindi initiated this as the others squabbled, selling stuff for figures that popped into her head at random. The others, headless chickens at this stage, all decided this was a ruddy good idea and joined in like a shower of fools. They eventually got their game together though and at least guessed better than the boys, as they ended up winning the task. They got served fish cooked by Johnny Christopher Novelli – that slick French character of Hell’s Kitchen, series 2. These reality types get about, eh?
The boys, on the other hand, gave the gig of pricing up to young Nick De-Lacy Whatsisface (don’t matter no more – he’s been booted) and he royally fucked it up – leading to his expulsion via the Sugar-finger process.
In the dizzy scenes of fish-selling, all a bit confusingly edited, we saw:
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Teardrop headed Simon attempt to cleaver the head of a big fish, balls it up and decide to saw it off instead. This was one of the most brutal things I’ve ever seen on normal telly. My missus is a delicate old soul and actually had to look away at that point.
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Sophocles getting mugged by a solicitor who bought all his pricey fish for next to nothing. Sophocles thought he’d got a good deal, but anyone who’s ever had to deal with anyone who works in the legal profession and didn’t feel ripped off by the experience is clearly an imbecile.
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A fight rage between the boys about an apparent ‘class-divide’. How that happened in the space of two or three hours is pretty much down to Raef, the engineer of the rift. Basically he got all those with slightly posher accents onside and broke down any chance of winning.
In the boardroom, Alex quite easily beat Raef into a corner using that crazy little thing called ‘logic’. Apart from the fact he kept referencing his CV, he came across as alright, I felt, and made Nick De-Lacy Whadjermacallit look like a complete tit. Apparently the fact that the buffoon is into his art and his culture meant he couldn’t sell fish, or so his explanation went.
An amused Sir Sugar watched the fireworks with a distant grin on his face before firing Nick very quickly.
Raef was lucky not to have gone, but they’ll have to keep him in as he gives good telly – and that’s what this is all about. Right kids?
77 Comments
It must be that time of year – hello again.
They are a ghastly bunch of wannabes (again) who wouldn’t know one end of the corporate ladder from the other (again).
They’re more interested in the trappings of the six-figure salary lifestyle (again) and grabbing a slice of their dubious 15 seconds of fame (again) until they secure their place on the motivational speaker circuit (again).
I still think Sir Alan’s PA should be promoted.
I’m completely suckered in and hooked – again……
(I’ve done my take on the whole sorry, hugely entertaining affair – again – http://grovesmedia.wordpress.com/2008/03/26/the-apprentice-a-reality-check/).
‘eads up! Groves is back with his gratuitous plugs!
Only jokinh… Good to see you again PG with your PG tips…
I’ll have a look at your bloggy.
Class warfare would have been more fun to watch than gender wars.
May I be the first to point out that Raef is clearly the product of an illicit fuck between Hugh Grant and Freddie Mercury? And one of the others looks like a thin Matt Lucas in a wig. I don’t know what his name is, he’s gormless-looking.
The blonde bloke – something Shaw?
I can see what you mean…
Raef is bound to have his own BBC3 late night crapshow by the end of the year.
Is it Shaw? The one who spent the entire show with his mouth open.
I did enjoy Nicholas’s us and them argument. “I like art, whereas they are under-educated scum.” Refreshing to see in 2008.
The whole show’s full of lookalikes. Like you’ve pointed out, there’s a Sugababe in there, and the male project leader is a younger version of him what edits the Sunday Sport. Tony somebody. What’s going on?
http://www.bbc.co.uk/apprentice/candidate/id/16/type/contestant.html
Shaw it’s sure.
And yes – I know the Sport editor you mean, the unshaven northern bloke who’s actually quite a funny bloke…
As for Nick De-Lacy’s ‘art’:
http://www.delacy-brown.com/
What do you make of that shit?
Good lord, have you lot seen this self-adulating dross yet?!
http://www.delacy-brown.com/index.html
Ugh. Ought to have read the comments more carefully. Blame my eagerness to comment on your site for the first time.
Sorry chaps.
Sorry Gita, just pipped you to the post with that one. Bloody rubbish, ain’t it?
Oho, wait, we commented at the same time! I AM SAVED FROM HUMILIATION!
That’s quite alright. Feel free to comment at any time on any post – we all generally talk utter bilge anyway. Especially Napoleon.
Yes, SH, you prick. HOW DARE YOU. There I was, about to come out of hiding and provide you all with a hilarious link- to great applause – and it’s all been ruined. Back to the belfry with me.
‘Prick’ is it? ‘PRICK’?
How dare you.
I’m sorry. The heat of the moment and whatnot, you link-poaching bastard.
You know, I sort of hate myself for loving The Apprentice as much as I do. I imagine it is a similar sort of feeling that Catholics experience on a day-to-day basis. On paper, reality TV is a scourge that must be wiped out, but for some reason watching old Mr Toad firing incompetents satisfies the Roman blood-lust that lurks just below the surface.
Let’s synopsise: I have called you a prick, then a bastard and I have insulted Catholics. Not bad for my first day.
I don’t really know how to respond to that foul language.
You shitstick.
Sir Sugar doesn’t ‘fire’ them as he never hired them. This is where The Apprentice falls down. He declines their application which is nowhere near as catchy. But ACCURATE.
Keen observation.
Wait, did you just call me a “shitstick”? I AM A LADY. You’ll burn for that.
Accuracy is overrated; why do you suppose everyone hates the Germans? I mean, apart from fish paste in tubes and crap beer.
My wife is convinced Kevin Shaw is some sort of by-product of Matt Lucas, or at least has modelled himself on the rotund comedian.
Mr Shaw apparently works for the Halifax, so if his appearance on The Apprentice doesn’t work out we can probably expect to see him singing next to Howard in a TV ad in the very near future.
You are a feminine shit-stick…
I don’t hate the germans! On the contrary, I enjoy their hardcore pornography and comical lager-jugs.
I must say, I don’t really trust anyone who isn’t up for a ruddy good bout of Oktoberfesting.
Paul thundering in there with a Matt Lucas comment that seems eerily familiar.
This Nicholas’s art work is shit. P’raps he should take up an interest in football like us common cunts.
*scratches anus*
P.S. I hate the Germans. It’s difficult to love a nation that dropped bombs on your gran, and shot your uncle Ken in the guts.
I think Paul was agreeing with you Napoleon, rather than stealing your thunder.
Who would Nicholas De-Lacy Sponge support though? Fulham?
As for the Germans – leave off ‘em. They killed my grandpappy and tried to off the other one unsuccessfully, but it wasn’t the ones who’re about now. It was some old ones. It’s like not trusting cats because you once got scratched by one when you were ten.
It was everything I could have hoped for and more.
Raef must be an actor. Nobody can actually be that pompous. Nobody. I don’t think he’ll be as watchable as Tre – he’s just a posh cock. Tre had a unique sense of self that is impossible to recreate.
But anyway, it was still an hour of phenomenal telly. Did anyone see how red Alex’s lips were in the boardroom? That must be what happens to him under pressure – he looks like he’s wacked a loada lippy on. That twat that shook on the £50 for the fish (looks like the fat one from Blue) should have gone really, there was still more mileage in the de Lacy dude I reckon.
The girls all seemed a bit dull.
Don’t be so harsh on the girls, Spaced.
Lindi in a backless, electric-pink evening dress from New Look was easy on the eye.
And Saradadha gave good telly – that staring straight ahead whilst bigging herself up thing was cracking.
New Look always looks like Neu Look, what with their crazy font. REMINDS ME OF ZE CHERMANS. And not the modern, Birkenstock-wearing, sexually liberated kind. The old, Blitzkrieg-having sort.
That said, New Look do roll out an impressively fashionable collection of lady’s party shoes. They were probably glued together in some ramshackle Cambodian factory for children, but I conveniently forget that likelihood when I’m plucking down £20 for a pair.
Napolean C – I was attempting to agree with your observation, I just failed to give the necessary credit where it is due and for that I’m willing to chastise myself forcefully for the rest of the day.
Oh aye? And you’d have been saying that after World War One, wouldn’t you? “Hey! This new lot are alright! Leave ‘em be! Lightning doesn’t strike twice,etc.” AND THEN LOOK WHAT HAPPENED!
They’ve lulled you into a false sense of security, have the Germans. Well I ain’t so trusting. I’ll be ready when the sausage-guzzling swine try for a third shot at the title.
Paul – Sorry about that. I’m quick to lose my temper.
(Don’t trust the Germans)
Gita: Shoe-bastard
NC: Untrusting old man
PG: Thought-thieving amnesiac
Me: King.
Boys are so stupid. There I was, providing a brilliant segway in to squealing about shoes and not a one of you turned a hair.
Stupid *boys*.
I don’t know what a ’segway’ is. Segway sounds like the name of a village in Lincolnshire.
Fuck you SH, I’m not a shoe-bastard. I do my bit. I’m sure we deign to toss a few coppers into the pot for starving whales or whatever.
Now, where’s my ivory toothpick? I believe I have a bit of panda steak stuck between my teeth.
Gita’s right. Boys are stupid. So stupid they only found the time in their stupid little lives to invent the computer she’s using, the electrical generating systems that power it, the fabrics of the chair she’s sitting in, the chair itself, the clothes she’s wearing, the shoes she loves so much, the carpet her chair’s sat on, the building she’s sitting in, the windows she looks through, the … well you get my point.
DOWN WITH STUPID BOYS!
*senses potential gender war*
*cups goolies and hides*
Oh yeah? Izzat so? Well…erm. You’d never have been BORN without a woman’s help. Unless you were created in an unholy GERMAN lab.
Geh. Could have done better with that, but being an illogical girl, it’s all I got for the moment.
Thinking is hard!
I’m happy to go to war over gender. Us fellas have a lot of artillery up our stupid sleeves …
… actually, I think you’ll find it was a man that came up with sleeves as well.
My God! Almost five minutes before childbirth was thrown into the mix! Huzzah! The fact that you wouldn’t have been born without a man’s involvement seems to have slipped your mind, Gita.
To be fair – only a man’s sperm needs to be involved. Beyond that, men do fuck all.
Absolutely fuck all, Swineshead. Except being the child’s father (unless they run away). I’m sure you’d argue your own father’s contribution to your life has been somewhat more involved than just donating 10cc of semen, then sitting back and doing fuck all.
Is cup goolies like potted shrimp, if so, I’ll have a fivers worth
My favourite line from yesterdays episode.
SAS: ” I’ve got you a most beautiful house. Actually it is a converted factory. In my days they used to make glass in it. Nowadays they convert them for poseurs like you to live in. ”
Good piece of social comment I thought.
I’m not a fan of potted shrimp. They’re a bit like insects.
I meant physically. They don’t do much in the hospital apart from have their hands squeezed.
And where would all those male inventors you were too lazy to list be without the love of a good woman, eh?
I thought that house was horrible. I like hippies’ houses that stink of doobies and have nick-nacks and shit everywhere. And they usually have them sofas that swallow you up and dogs and cats wandering about. They should shove that shower in a hippy house – the posh ‘uns would have a fucking heart attack.
Napoleon, you’ve made me cry and mess up my eye make up. Now I’ll have to re-do it which detracts from swanning about in a marabou-lined dressing gown, eating bon-bons and arranging all these pink throw pillows I have lying about my boudoir.
Anyway, gender arguments always fail to note that most humans, regardless of gender, are utterly mediocre and suitable for cannon fodder.
Apart from us, of course.
I don’t think the love of a good woman is compulsory to inventiveness, Swineshead. Frank Whittle would probably have got round to inventing the jet engine quicker if he HADN’T had his wife nagging at him to fix those shelves in the kitchen. And imagine the stuff Thomas Edison could have come up with if half his time wasn’t spent trying to comply with that ratbag Mrs. Edison’s demands to be taken shopping. No wonder John Logie Baird spent so much time on the toilet reading Exchange & Mart.
NC, you’ve had potted shrimp?
Sure it wasn’t a bit of old fish finger that had accidentally fallen into a blob of margarine by the side of the fridge which you then ate with a dirty finger possibly with some actual poo under your nail?
Are you sure it wasn’t that, what I just said then?
Sure?
Piqued – No, it was potted shrimp. Not what you just said. No.
And anyway, you really are an insufferable little bastard.
Gita – I’ve had enough of your incessant prattle, woman. Get back to the kitchen, where you belong.
You sure?
Mmm, well I’ll take your word for it but ‘though dost protest too much’ does ring a sinister bell if you ask me…
That said, I will take you word for it.
‘Mmmm’ all the same
(sure?)
(Obviously I meant ‘your word for it’)
glad someone else spotted the ethan hawke lookalike (humunah humunah) but did you also see matt lucas/george dawes lurking in the background. great stuff. xx
And ‘thou’ as opposed to ‘though’, obviously.
Andrew Collins mentioned theHawke thing too… I ain’t a plagiariser…
And Napoleon mentioned the Lucas thing up there ^^
I shall catch up on BMTV right now!
NC the ‘thou’ lacking in ‘though dost protest too much’ was clearly a test.
You scraped through m’boy well done
*runs off dropping nicked SIM cards*
He looks more like that Sunday Sport man to me.
So far we have:
A Sugababe
Him off of the Sunday Sport/Etham Hawke
A gormless Matt Lucas in a wig
Freddie Mercury and Hugh Grant’s love child
Any more for any more?
Katie Hopkins is back – the blonde beret woman.
Of course. She’ll turn out to be a right harridan, I’ll wager.
It’s back, causing much comment and merriment!
Yes, I noticed lips were much redder than in series 1,2 and 3. Did you notice Nick Hewitt’s lips – redder than I remember.
Maybe it’s because it’s filmed in HD?!
I agree with you on the blonde purple beret bird (you can tell I’m a bloke I only know a few colours). Did you notice her just hanging on, I suspect she’ll either be cannon fodder or be so quiet she goes in to win under the radar.
>>And where would all those male inventors you were too lazy to list be without the love of a good woman, eh?
In the kitchen, doing the washing up.
I enjoyed last night’s, they really are a complete bunch of tits this year. Watchable tits though, bit like the screens in Shunt on a Friday night.
I didn’t watch it.
Nor I
“And where would all those male inventors you were too lazy to list be without the love of a good woman, eh?”
“In the kitchen, doing the washing up.”
No, they’d be in the shed. Inventing a dishwasher.
Check out this blog reviewing music in a similar credulous, slightly enraged style as this review.
http://extremelisteningmode.wordpress.com/
Incidentally, i don’t watch the apprentice as i already find myself surrounded by pompous horses arses and don’t wish to watch them on TV too. In saying that i did enjoy your review. I may just read this and then i won;t feel left out by my mates any more.
yay!
More shameless pluggery!
Promote away, i’m not going to stop you sunshine.
i find it more effective than plugless shamery, although it is more harmful to the environment.
You have to admire the producers who select the contestants. The only 16 people in britain who watched the Office and just didn’t get it. Quality.
Good review – he will now always be cut-price Ethan Hawke to me!
I am very much of gratitude for everyone’s commentary and approach to this for reasons I’m not prepared to divulge at present.
Suffice to say it has been extremely useful to me personally – helping to justify my stance that all TV post-1983 is ghastly (with the exception of Dr Who), as well as professionally (my next commission is working for someone similar sounding to this Alan (Sir) Sugar gentleman).
Keep up the good work everyone.
With your help I get to be self-righteously smug and stuff about not watching TV with my wife (Mrs Belm).
Derek (Mr) Belm.
Oh. My. God. Have you read de lacy fuckwit’s biography? Entire papers could be written analysing this self-aggrandising crap.
“he has lived his short twenty-four years with a vivacity and boldness which few could achieve in a lifetime”
“Welcome to the world of Nicholas de Lacy-Brown”
I love the fact that ‘revealed’ and ‘reality’ are in quotation marks, as if he somehow now scornfully distances himself from that freakshow, which he fought tooth and nail to appear on.
And can an art exhibition be a “sell out success”? Unless, of course, you sell out. Is he a sell-out?
“Dichotomous” – oh come on now, you’re taking the piss, surely?
Also love the way that common little “brown” added a ‘de lacy” to make himself more interesting (see: http://archive.theargus.co.uk/2001/8/17/173334.html which namechecks the young prick before he got ideas above his station; note also that his classmate – Caroline Woodward-Court – is his biographer on his website)
Last but not least, I love the (c) symbol at the bottom of the bio – as if anyone would want to imitate, let alone copy, that kind of vomitous drivel.
Pure class.
I despised Raef on sight but I actually preferred him to Kevin by the end of episode 1. That de Lacy character – good grief! Thank God he’s gone. With arrogance like that he shall be killed/attacked in days….
*adjusts knuckle duster*
Do you mean Alex?
(I think she means Alex)
Yeah, I meant Alex.
Can’t wait for the next juicy installment…..
P.S Just checked out the de Lacy-Brown link above. Bloody hell, he must be completely delusional to post that load of crap on the interweb and expect ’serious buyers’ to part with their hard-earned cash. Anyway, surely nobody has enough hours in the day to be an artist, barrister AND a property developer? In fact, if he’s claiming to be an artist and his work is that shit, it’s probably not the best advert for his barristerial skills.
May I also draw your attention to the fact that apparently Jennifer Macguire ‘…. can make the shape of a shamrock with her tongue.’ Just the sort of skill to putting down on your resume, hey boys?
And lastly….. How come Kevin Shaw is a premiership and area bank manager at the age of 24? This is not possible, surely? If so, no fucking wonder banks are shit.
A five year old child could manage a bank these days – all it involves is pressing ‘yes’ and ‘no’ buttons on an old PC and awaiting a decision.
If this is the case, then why isn’t everyone a bank manager. They earn shit loads and get subsidised mortgages!
Because most people aren’t cunty enough, ALRIGHT?
POST MY EASTENDERS THING, YOU FAT SHIT! IT’S CURRENT EVENTS! CURRENT!
How strange. I simply googled ‘Is Thomas Edison really a thieving ****’, got thrown onto this page and have now fallen head over heels in lust with Gita. And I bet Gita’s really a boy..
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