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Apprentice no sugary pill
I HAVE to admit, I'm not a fan of reality TV. In fact, I'd rather claw my own eyes out than have to watch Big Brother, I'm a Celebrity, or most of the others that clog up our screens, so this could be quite a short-lived column.
But you can't argue with The Apprentice - surely the Rolls Royce of reality TV.
There's nothing better than watching a bunch of would-be business megalomaniacs with over-inflated egos run around like headless chickens and make complete idiots of themselves.
As ever, Sir Alan Sugar gave his "I'm no Mary Poppins" speech to kick things off, and there were a few snippets of the staggering levels of self delusion we have to look forward to over the next three months.
"I would say I'm the best saleswoman in the whole of Europe," said marketing consultant Jenny Maguire.
Yes Jenny, of course you are.
This outrageous waffle always reminds me of that bit in Austin Powers, when Dr Evil's dad claims he invented the question mark.
In this fourth series our intrepid contestants are well aware that in week one, the team captains are first in line for the chop.
The manoeuvrings and manipulations that pushed spiky haired stropbag Alex and chaotic Claire into the firing line would have put the Roman Empire to shame.
As the two teams - girls versus boys - set about selling £600 of fish at Islington Market like disorganised, argumentative monkeys, the problems quickly became obvious. Mislabelled monkfish, bargain basement lobsters and a general lack of common sense all spelt disaster. And making up your prices as you go, as the girls started doing, won't get you very far either.
Still, the ladies team won, generating a profit of £153, as opposed to the boys' paltry £32. Sir Alan wasn't pleased, though, and even their prize felt like a bit of a dig, as Michelin-starred chef Jean-Christophe Novelli prepared them a meal of seabass.
Probably just what they fancied after a day of frantic fish selling.
But the most cringeworthy moment came in the boardroom, with posh, amusingly- named barrister, Nicholas De Lacey Brown's hapless attempt to play the class war card. Nicholas, by the way, seemed to think the most devastating moment of his life had been getting a "B" grade in GCSE French.
He tried to suggest he and fellow toff Raef Bjayal had been picked on because they weren't "gritty salesmen" or football supporters.
But the endearingly pompous Raef was sharp enough to distance himself like crazy from this kamikaze argument.
Talk about sticking your head over the parapet. Nicholas couldn't have made his own firing more certain if he'd shot himself out of a cannon.
Sir Alan, it's safe to say, is not one for lyrical sob stories about being marginalised by uncultured, uneducated footie fans.
And to think, we have another 11 weeks of this to look forward to.
9:41am Tuesday 1st April 2008
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