Now I've finally got round to watching the last one because my Sky box had inched up to 97% and I needed a quick cull (cheerio, 12GB of Electric Dreams, but it was never going to happen), I can say without fear of contradiction that last year's Apprentice very definitely featured some people performing futile tasks in order to appease a crotchety old man, like when you have to go round your nan's and retune her digital radio because you "know about computers".
Good job it's my turn, because what I don't know about fashion isn't worth knowing. I bought three pairs of trousers the other week. On the same day. I know
Because cars aren't in the least bit interesting, and anyone who thinks they are interesting is an imbecile, it is especially hard for me to get around the fact that I was quite engaged by this episode of The Apprentice. A lot of it was about cars, you see.
Off we head to Bruges, city of culture, chocolate and small-scale fraud. You get the feeling this is one member state for which March 2019 can't come fast enough.
Apparently when Queen played Wembley Stadium in 1986, which we can all agree was among the greatest concerts of all time, it only cost you fifteen quid to get in. Thirty-one years on, a few hours in a corporate box there costs you two and a half grand, and you've got to listen to Harrison sing.
There are too many of them. The Apprentice always trudges through its early weeks like an underfunded, overcrowded crèche, full of puffed-up, bellicose rugrats wanting the biggest rusk. The reality of editing it down to an hour means there are always those who can keep their heads down for a few weeks and ride it out till their first reckoning around Bonfire Night. As such, I have no idea what half their names are and I'm fucked if I'm going to bother learning them.
Tom Hardy's popular stint on Bedtime Stories is to end with a series finale in which he just shows you his penis.
This is a low point if I'm honest.
After years of affecting to be above it all like the dickhead I am, it finally happened. I cared who won The Apprentice. "Alana's has the less risk of the two business plans," I said to myself. "Surely Lord Sugar will see that; what self-respecting businessman wouldn't?" Well played, 2016. You win.
There's one man left and five women, just like that dream I keep having about being overpowered by the female Gladiators.