Watching The Apprentice whilst pissed is a strange experience and one I don’t recommend.
For a start, if you’re meant to be writing a review about it the next day and attempt to make notes on what’s going on, you’re screwed. Events occur in a different order to how you note them and your notesheet ends up being a scrawled list of obscenities along the lines of ‘Claire is an interfering knacker-shit’. It’s not helpful at all. With this in mind, I’m only able to put down the stuff I remember with events all scrambled and probably embellished with a load of bollocks.
‘Oo’s next?!’ asked Alan after firing Jenny and Jennifer, the two inept ladies of similar nomenclature. The rest of them – Alex, Claire and Michael, looked at one another as if to say ‘how are we meant to know?’. It’s not their decision, after all.
It was, to quote Alan, a total disaster, but it was always going to be. I’ve never been to Morocco, but I’m sure I’d fare just as badly as our contestant friends in this task. Buying stuff from a list is hard enough in Ridley Road Market, in deepest darkest Dalston - so going overseas to some foreign clime would spell the end for me. I’d not only spend more on the items than they actually cost, I’d also lose my phone, my wallet, my dignity and my mind.
So I actually felt a twinge of sympathy this week, empathy even. Only for a few minutes though, up to the point where LEE MCQUEEN (the one who’s concerned) shouted ‘THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKIN’ ABAIRT’ – his new catchphrase. It must be his new catchphrase – he said it four or five times.
Sara, looking like a scared, smacked guinea pig, performed pretty well – but I could be misremembering that because I have a soft spot for the oval eyed beauty. Alex also performed his job admirably but ended up on the losing team – his efforts curtailed by Claire enforcing a boyfriend / girlfriend role play act in a feeble attempt to negotiate using acting skills in place of shrewd cunning. Needless to say, it didn’t work. When Alex managed to barter costs down, Claire would jump in as the concerned girlfriend and mindlessly force the price back up using sheer brute force. It was painful to watch.
On Lee’s team, for he project managed, things went better, simply because Jennifer – the other team leader – dived in head first with no planning whatsoever. All the same, I didn’t feel she deserved to go. She project managed two people who are complete dunderheads. Sophocles and Jenny, working as a team, managed to balls up every task they were given.
When fetching a kosher chicken, they approached a Muslim gentlemen who gladly pretended to bless the beast before slicing its throat open. That was fine, decided Jenny and Michael as they walked off with the un-kosher chuck, proceeding onwards to their next disaster – getting a tennis racket. Not only did they get the tennis racket, they also attempted to delay the stringing of Lee McQueen’s sports equipment in order to make him lose the task. ‘I thought that’d be the jewel in my crown’ said Jenny in subsequent interviews. She honestly thought that being a vindictive swine would endear her to people. But nobody likes a cheat, and she was subjected to the most casual firing since Lawrie Sanchez left Fulham. No ceremony – just a ‘you’re shit, fuck off’ type of hasty exit. On her 36th birthday as well. What a sod.
Sophocles really should’ve walked. He lied about his heritage to get in with Alan: ‘alright, I’m half Jewish’. ‘Shall we pull your trousers down and find out?’ asked the big beardie boss. Now – amusing though this was, this was a trick the Nazis used to use to separate those who were to be sent to their certain death. Using it as a gag in a corporate environment, in the real world, would probably end in an industrial tribunal. It wasn’t in the best taste, I didn’t feel.
Remarkably, Sophocles stayed. ‘I remember what it was like being 23’ said Sugar, proving that age comes into the equation when he recruits. This makes a mockery of the recent change in age discrimination laws, frankly. You’re not even allowed to use the word ‘lively’ when describing an office environment these days, as it discounts doddering old farts from being eligible. So, nice one Alan, you’ve made a joke about pulling down pants to check a man’s willy for scars and you’ve also let someone off being a useless plank because he’s 23. Maybe he should just hire an 8 year old with no pants on and be done with it.
And that’s all I can remember. So, in lieu of a decent report (and apologies for letting the side down), let’s look at who’s left and see what their chances are:
Sara
An outside chance this one might do it. She’s the wildcard who, like Simon Ambrose last year, has shown gradual improvement. The nation’s also taken her to their collective heart because she was bullied, and everyone loves an underdog – especially one with big puppy dog wide-eyes.
Helene
Not a hope for Jabba the Hut – due, I’d say, for a firing next week. She was pretty much absent this time around, and the show was better for it. Her mock exasperation and constant bickering with Lucinda does the nation’s nut in.
Lee McLee McQueen (concerned)
Shows flashes of brilliance, but his chicken impression and his abuse of Sara may put him out of the running. He’s a twat, let’s face it. That’s what I’m talking about? I’d rather you didn’t talk at all, if you’re going to keep coming out with that shit.
Alex
Hard to say. Is often shown in a sympathetic light despite constant moaning, stupid bad-boy hats, quivering lips and scrawny, lanky frame in superman jim jams. He’s all I’ve got left in the office sweepstake, so I’m rooting for a dickhead. He’ll make the final I think.
Raef
Constantly edited to look good. Like a charming statue, Raef stands there looking handsome with nothing to say, then strikes a deal with someone by blinding them with posh arrogance. Overtook Alex in the ‘one-for-the-ladies’ stakes in week two and hasn’t looked back – but he’s way to posh to be recruited, surely? Imagine him and Alan having a breakfast bap together in Brentwood – it wouldn’t happen.
Sophocles
Hasn’t got a hope in hell. From the sounds of it, he’ll probably make the final just so those nasty bastard mate’s of Alan can rip his caked-in-bullshit CV apart. ‘Nice Jewish boy’ indeed.
Claire
Evens on this one. One week is portrayed as a cantankerous bullying cow, the next a shrewd business expert. She’s a buyer by trade, as Alan keeps pointing out as though she’s his own over-achieving daughter, so would probably wow the folks over in Brentwood. She’s an insufferable moaner too, which can only help her cause.
Lucinda
She fades into the background despite her ludicrous wardrobe. How that’s possible I have no idea. Despite having been a good project manager, she’s just to flaky and way too plumy mouthed to make the grade, so I think she’ll be ejected ‘with regret’.
If Sophocles gets the job – and I’m putting my arse on the line here – I’ll eat the biggest hat I own.*
*I don’t own any hats
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102 Comments
W
I think we can all agree on that.
Eh?
I pressed a button by accident and sent ‘W’ off as a comment. Now I have, I agree wholeheartedly with myself.
*awards himself big trophy covered in all gold*
Is this the worst Apprentice report ever?
Answer: yes, probably.
Still haven’t said why you’re no longer Cockaparte.
I NEVER WAS! For fuck’s sake! When I started a Wordpress blog, I had a thing called ‘Ask Napoleon’. I wanted to answer the questions as Napoleon Cockaparte, and post normally as myself, B P Perry. Unfortunately, I couldn’t work out how to switch between names, and ended up stuck with the stupid ‘Napoleon Cockaparte’ alias. I got rid of the Cockaparte bit because I’m sick of looking at it.
You might want to change the picture n’all… maybe have a nice picture of Jim Davidson there instead.
Why Jim Davidson?
He’s got a lovable face?
I don’t know why I said that, I drank my brain into a pulp on Wednesday, clearly.
I don’t think I’d want a Jim Davidson picture. You’re a bad egg.
Jim Bowen?
People might think I was being ironic. There’s a lot of that about nowadays.
Did you see thr apprentice then?
Who do you reckon’ll win?
How do I change my pic back to the Badger?
Helene. That’s right. How d’ye like THEM onions? Eh?
I thought this one was daft. I’m sure the tasks used to be slightly more creative than ‘go shopping’? Or did they?
I enjoyed watching The Chin getting fired. Shame about Jennifer getting the boot over Michael, though. I want to see her nude. NUDE.
BM – Go to options I guess?
Jennifer nude? I reckon she’s vacuum forned like a barbie doll.
There’ll be a telesales task in the next couple of weeks which should be fun
Badger – No idea. I thought it was something to do with only having your picture on sites you contribute to. Then I saw mine’s still up on Piqued’s site. Fuck knows why they’ve gone down this horrible snowflake path.
I reckon she’s lovely nude. Lovely. In fact, they should only accept thin Irish women for the next series. Thin, Irish, woman AND nude. All of ‘em nude.
Regular readers of WWM will be delighted to learn that three – that’s – THREE – Bernard Matthews’ Chicken Kievs have just ‘winged’ their way into my oven.
Did you see wot I done did there with the ‘winged’ thing?
Not Alan. Surely not. Nude Alan?
No.
It’d certainly make them behave themselves. And Michael’s claims to being Jewish could be investigated more thoroughly.
Three? In one meal?
You fat knacker.
The Irish girl did deserve to go..no planning, no attention to detail and not in control of her team. Nobody seemed to have a clue about haggling in a souk…though not necessarly their fault. I liked your take on the “pulling down pants” banter.
As for who might win? Can you imagine working with LEE? The Christmas party does not even bear thinking about. Sophocles should go as he aided and abetted the attempted sabotage. As for the chuck….well…unbelievable.
I have to say I like Lucinda more each episode though a potential winner perhaps not.
Oh well onwards we go with this “zeitgeist” program.
Still the QVC bit to go, then the CV shredding episode. So much fun to be had, Mikey.
Lee at a Christmas party – imagine the hip hop dancing he’d get up to. That – that right there – is what I am talking about.
Christ – imagine if Lee loses…
LEE MCQUEEN IS DISAPPOINTED.
And if he wins no doubt he’ll tell Sir Alan that that was exactly what he happened to have been talking about all along.
I’m talking about Alan and that other bloke having a nude smackdown to see who has the right to suckle Margeret’s udders. Oh yes. They should put me in charge of the next series.
Is that Jim? Have you done as I asked?
Christ…
You’d blatantly ruin the Apprentice.
God, I don’t know where to begin on this dreadful yet wondrous episode of the Apprentice…..
Jenny Chins deserved to go without question. Her conniving ways shall not be missed. I’m so pleased she was found out in the boardroom, one minute she didn’t know what kosher meant, the next she claimed to be following Sophocles as she knew him to be a ‘good Jewish boy’, meaning that she must have known that kosher was a Jewish term not a Muslim one. The withering looks from Margaret and Nick were edited perfectly. A triumph!
The whole Sophocles am-I-or-aren’t-I Jewish debacle was hilarious. I particularly loved the way he blessed himself in a Catholic fashion on the way into boardroom thrashing number 2. He’s one crazy, mixed up kid… I am simply amazed that he wasn’t fired. He was in on the whole bribing scandal, he was responsible for the chicken ‘blessing’, he lied on his application – what more does AS want? If I were Sir Alan I would have fired him instantaneously, the minute he started all that ‘COME ON!’ nonsense and sir punching in the boardroom. I also can’t bear the petulant teenager-ish looks he gives when being bollocked.
Although Jenny M was a bit of a twerp, I don’t think she was worse than Sophocles and didn’t deserve the boot. She would have done herself a HUGE favour if she had just kept her mouth shut.
He’s got a lovely face.
I wouldn’t ruin The Apprentice, I’d IMPROVE it’s ass. Naked dancing girls, grenades, bean-wrestling, tigers. It’d be ace.
That was meant to be air punching not sir punching – now that really would have landed him in the shit!
I’d land Alan in the shit if I was in charge. Then the beans. Oh yes.
*pop!*
Napoleon – it’s not going to happen. But if it did, could you dress up Nick as a pantomime dame?
Thanks.
Is he the other chap that advises that bastard Sugar? If so, I’d have him naked so he could turn the ladies on with that Bergen-Belsen figure of his. You’ve got to keep the birds on side.
*watches tumbleweed*
*farts*
Where’s that arse Piqued today?
Banging groupies in post-gig reverie
Post-gig? Been to see one of his ponderous bands, has he? Or is he in a ponderous band? Gawd ‘elp us all when the untalented get ideas above their station.
Have a look at his blog, then comment here – I can’t be giving him traffic.
I’ve just read it. I guessed he was doing a comedy night, and he denied it. The fucking liar.
He owes you 10 quid
He’s a bastard. It didn’t take too much deducing to work out what he was up to with his cloak ‘n’ dagger routine … and then the bugger denies it when I figure it out. A bad sort, is what he is. A wrong ‘un. A rotten egg.
He actaully smells of rotten egg, funnily enough.
HAY U GUYZ PIS OF
Does he? That doesn’t surprise me. Mnd you, I imagine the smell’s masked by whiskey fumes most of the time.
I dun maked growned up folks cry wiv a speech I writ in 15 minutes. Beet that peeked.
That’s rich coming from you, you wino
3 bottles in a fucking day! Not even Peter Ackroyd could do that
He might have extra boozing orifices concealed in his chins.
Wino? Says him wot can’t go three days without booze! You’re a pickled lush, Piqued.
Those ten pints I had on Wednesday have written off any hopes I’ve got of boozing this weekend… I shan’t be able to suffer a drop.
SH, is that really true
NC, you drunk THREE BOTTLES of BLUE NUN in ONE SITTING…
Yes it’s true. I am an idiot.
You krazy kook.
I didn’t drink Blue fucking Nun, you spaz. Just because I don’t feel a desperate need to prove to people how sophisticated I am, doesn’t mean I eat and drink nothing but rubbish. I was drinking some fancy expensive shit from a wine shop – I just drank too much of it, and bottle three might as well have been Blue Nun for all my taste buds or addled brain could tell the difference.
I drank ten pints of that Erdinger stuff and a can of Kronenbourg the other week, Swineshead. I can thoroughly sympathise with your plight. Two entire days it took for the effects to wear off.
…it was either that or Tower to accompany your meal of Aldi Chicken Kievs and a Vienetta as a fucking treat
‘I drank ten pints of that Erdinger stuff and a can of Kronenbourg the other week’
Christ, you disgusting tramp
Black Tower? ‘Fraid not. I don’t drink sweet German wine. And I would never let an Aldi Chicken Kiev pass my lips – not when Bernard’s fine wares are available. And as for Vienetta? I prefer that Cornish stuff.
I’d also like to find the tramp that can afford ten pints of Erdinger. It’s over three quid a pint up ‘ere.
What, Cornetta?
THREE QUID A FUCKING PINT, THREE QUID! You’re in for a fucking shock when you get down here sunshine, a pint of Heinekin is £38 round my way
Asti Spumante? I bet it was that, you bloody fairy
£38? Is that all? Cheaper than I thought.
And it’s Cornetto, you fool. If you are going to sneer and use a mass-produced ice cream to illustrate what you think the common sort would eat, at least get its name right.
Unless you were talking about more than one Cornetto, of course. I wouldn’t put it past a pathetic snob like you to assume the plural of ‘Cornetto’ is ‘Cornetta’.
Speaking of which, when are you heading to the Londres ghetto? I am also flat-hunting. But for far shittier flats.
When I’ve finished wrangling with my letting agent up here, John. Why do you ask? Surely you can hang on a bit longer for that bum fun we’d arranged?
I know it’s fucking Cornetto, I was merging Cornish and Vienetta you peerless tit.
Gotta sell first eh? not me, first place evva. Just wondered. Although naturally my spam piston is aching for your scatty man flaps.
Only took you forty minutes to get your sluggish, booze-addled brain round to replying to that, eh Piqued? And I don’t believe you, M’Lord. I reckon you thought the plural of ‘Cornetto’ was ‘Cornetta’. You’re now tryin’ to cover your ass …
WELL YOU WON’T COVER IT FROM ME.
*zzzzzzzzzip!*
That Sara Dhada is a nice looking bird.
Jennifer Maguire was also nice looking, shame she’s gone.
I hope Raef wins, because he is so poncy and makes me laugh!
Jennifer was worth 10cc of any man’s lovin’, brother. A thick slice of man steak, right up her Irish cladgeblatter. AND THAT’S NOT SEXIST.
Suge Knight clearly likes Cluuuur. No idea why. I simply don’t trust people who can’t pronounce their own name correctly. What chance have you got if you can’t even do that?
Napoleon – No she wasn’t. She looked like the lost member of B*Witched. She was almost cliched in her Oirish Pikeyness.
Well I think she was lovely. LOVELY.
Bit fucking quiet in ‘ere today, eh? Eh?
Wake up Liam.
I reckon he’s dead.
Well I sure as hell ain’t waitin’ ’til the cops show up
As Swineshead’s being a big-nosed, lazy cunt, and as Piqued is a bald drunk who spends his time pushing things up his own arse, it falls to me to review something today. So here goes:
Britian’s Got Talent was rubbish.
I thank you.
Oh, you heard about Piqued pushing stuff up his arse too then?
I did hear about that, yes. Apparently, he’s been pushing stuff up his own arse for years now.
Like, literally, years, like.
Hi guys
I hope you’re all well
I love u guys
There he is. Taking a break from his busy day pushing stuff up his own arse. Hello Piqued, you moronic drunkard.
If I was diagnosed with all cancer, and the only thing that would save my life was Piqued’s bone marrow, I’d turn it down and die rather than have that deviant’s marrow in my bones.
Great Britain’s Got Talent review, Naps.
YOU IS MY FAYVORIT
I think maybe Liam HAS died.
Stop calling him Liam, Wagonwheel. Liam’s name on here is ‘Swineshead’, not Liam. Liam doesn’t like being called Liam in the same way I object to being called Ben, and Marchmount La Fru-Fru Stratocaster Del Flappercaster IV prefers ‘Piqued’.
You’re right, though. He’s dead. Funeral’s Friday.
I was trying to rouse him from his eternal slumber by pissing him off with using his name.
It was a thing, see. A thought-out thing. One of them things.
And I thought Piqued’s real name was Zebediah Pot-Roast Tom Mustafa Cornelius Huckleberry Pompom Great-Ocean-Wave-Free-Wind Nakamatsu Johann Charlemaigne Doile Rapist-Westington
No it’s not. It’s what I said.
Git.
Thanks.
Swines is having some sort of training day.
I only know this because he whispered something about it after we’d made love this morning, he made me breakfast (Alpen and juice, Mmm lovely (and lets face it, girls, Alpen and juice is just about the only thing he can make!!! Men are so awful in the kitchen, right girls
He can’t burn Alpen as it doesn’t need any cooking, right girls ahaha) then my baby takes the morning train, he works from 9 -5 and then, he takes another home again, to find me waiting for him.
He’s a lazy arse is what he is. No doubt he’s not at a training day. He’ll be in a brothel somehere, catching all Sypphalites off of whores. It’s disgusting for a married man to be carrying on like that.
AND THE SIZE OF HIS NOSE!
Hey piss off I’ve got a big nose. His is bigger though.
I’ve got a bigger nose than wot you have, Wagonwheel. My nose is enormous. ENORMOUS.
Fine. When you move to London we’ll have a nose-blowing ping pong ball hollow cereal packet football tournament. Piqued is fucked (partly cos he dun no the rools to futbal, just polo).
I said I had a big hooter, not that it works especially well. My nose came into being as a result of mindless violence, and I doubt I could score from a distance of ten yards … sorry, millimeteres.
…eh girls? Eh? ahahahaha
Oh.
PEEKD: LETZ PLA UNAVU CHUKKA THEN.
MEE: NO DIS IS FUT BAL DUMAS
NAPOLYUN: I GOT A BIG NOZ.
know weigh jun
We’re rapidly losing our audience thanks to Swineshead’s laggardly control of this site’s reigns. Isn’t it about time we had a coup? If I was in charge, I’d promise the same slapdash approach to reviews AND tits ‘n’ ass. We all love tits ‘n’ ass, eh lads? Lads?
LAAAAAAAAAADS?
REIGNS? I’m brain-damaged.
btw, has the new series of The Apprentice begun yet?
I loved the last one with the Embassy Seige
’siege’
Brilliant TV
That and Bullseye, ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTEEN
I think The Apprentice starts next week.
Thanks mate
Thate
Y’welcome. Now then, is anyone going to write something new? I don’t include me in this.
Dunno
I was going to pop out and grab a bag of Quavers, then I thought, balls, I can’t be arsed
Might have a poo in a bit though
I’ve written something now, seeing as none of you lazy bastards can be bothered. As for Quavers? ‘Orrible things. I like Doritos and them Hula Hoop things. Hmmm. Ahhhh. Oh yes.
Sir Alan got pissed off and fired Raef coz his ad didn’t show a box of tissues not once but he should look at the state of the cadbury’s chocolate ad it’s just got vehicles and it’s just the most pathetic fukin ad i’ve eva seen!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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