Episode Thirteen. Also known as Episode Surely One Of Them Must Win By Now. Or Episode Can’t This Moron Just Ring Reed Like The Rest Of Us? Or Episode If He Doesn’t Hire Someone Soon I’m Staging An Intervention. That’s right; it’s the final. And as the credits roll their last, and the foghorn narrator thunders his final humourless intro, it’s time to look back over all the biznez people too stupid and inept to fool a dimple-chinned geriatric into employment.
Bye bye Sandeesh, see yer later Hollyoaks Jamie, astaluego Bambi Liz, so long Mel, do one Naan-faced Stuart and farewell Sulky Laura; it’s been a pleasure. It’s been real.
As we rush headlong in to the most postponed first day since Prince Charles tried on his mother’s headwear, only milk-haired Stella and vertical-haired Chris remain in the fight to become Lord Sugar’s apprentice. Seeing as no-one else has bothered all season, perhaps now is the time for someone to address what an apprentice actually is. According to this Oxford illustrated dictionary sitting beside me (that’s right – I’m writing this from the 1980s, where we still have to use ‘books’ for information) an apprentice is a ‘Learner of a craft, bound to serve, and entitled to instruction from, his employer for a specified time.’ Not a single mention of sausage-flavoured crisps, sandy-knickered bikini shoots or public humiliation. Those lexicographers are idiots.
Undeterred, Chris runs to answer the phone at 6am to receive these, his final pride-stripping, esteem-quashing, CV-blighting orders. It must be pretty empty rattling around that house on their own. I wonder if they had an Amstrad slumber party last night, playing first generation, single-player, 1D doss computer games on the tank-sized Amstrentertainment system hidden in the basement. Or maybe they just painted each others’ nails and played with their mini Sugardolls.
Once the two milky bar kids have assembled at The Langham, Mini Mod Sugar turns up in his batmobile to stand in front of twelve square feet of false marble and fart instructions out of his grizzled mouth.
“Your task is to invent a brand new premium alcoholic drink,” yaps Sugatron. “And I think you’re gonna need some assistance,” he nasals. Cue awkward walk in of all the ex-canditates (well, all the candidates who haven’t learned the tough love lesson of the editing suite). So, it’s up to Stella and Chris to pick their teams for the final task. Yikes, it’s like the worst PE lesson ever! Paloma, of course, is the last to be picked. But where’s Baggs?!? Sitting in a bush outside Margaret Mountford’s house armed with a can of whiskers and a hacksaw, I’ll be bound…
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