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I could go into the whys and wherefores as to why I'm almost three weeks late with this recap, but let's just say it was a combination of festive cheer, booze and a could-be-serious internet gambling addiction.
This week, I shall be shamelessly working in references to Star Wars in order to boost SEO, so you can do one, weather-girl. This is my wheelhouse.
It is easy to forget, now it is embedded in the BBC's Christmas run-up scheduling, that The Apprentice is a US import, based on an original built around Donald Trump. Fast-forward two years and imagine he is now President of the United States, and has banned all immigration by Muslims. Could we really continue dispassionately to watch Lord Sugar sit in a chair warmed by a proponent of ethnic cleansing, unaccountably making people build sandcastles as a 12-week aptitude test and purging those who failed? You'd have to argue the connotations made it inappropriate.
This is it, folks; the long-awaited bust-up between Charleine and Selina happens in this very episode. But before we get to the mother of all showdowns, we have to endure Lord Sugar turning his bunch of wankers into even worse wankers.
According to Lord Sugar, the average children's party costs £2,000. TWO GRAND? The centerpiece of my 6th birthday party was a cucumber on cocktail sticks that was meant to be a crocodile, but looked like a cucumber on cocktail sticks and goddammit, that was enough. Kids these days don't know they're born.
Stack 'em high, flog 'em cheap, leave a better-looking corpse. We're over halfway point, so we'll start to see the ads for the 2016 arena tour of rejected candidates soon.
On this week's Apprentice, we learn how many Apprenti (that's the correct plural) it takes to clean a window, and we get four cracking double entendres. Every week we are further and further from God's light.
This week on The Apprentice, some friends become enemies, some enemies become friends, lessons are learned and everyone is richer for the experience.
This week, we're all about show-jumping bunnies and chickens in high-vis jackets. Thank God The Apprentice is finally taking itself seriously.
Bonjour mes amis! Je m'appelle Becky! J'habite a pres de Londres, avec ma petit cheval, Phillipe. La disk-jockey Sash est de retour. Encore une fois. Frere Jacques.
This week, the hapless contenders are shipped off to France, hence my amazing parlez. Also this week, the Apprentices/potential business partners are literally shovelling shit. Someone at the BBC's got a wry sense of humour.