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So far we've said goodbye to Dapper Laughs, The Sad-Eyed Woman, Fabulous Stephen, Lauren The Bratz Doll, Pamela (nope, me neither), The Sockless Wanker and finally, last week Fat Daddy Felipe got the chop and it was like seeing a pug being put to sleep.
Still left in the competition we have Sanjay whose name baffles me, Sarah Millican's younger sister, Rocket Surgeon Mark, Danyewl (how?), Solomon Blue Suit, Bianca and her million different shades of pink lipstick, and Roisin who I always forget is around. There are still more people left in The Apprentice than have auditioned for The X Factor over the past 10 years. Is our licence fee paying for all those taxis that ferry them around?
Obviously I don't watch The Apprentice, because it is among the litany of modern cultural images intended to discourage individual thought, divert our notions of aspiration towards dreams of meaningless celebrity, and make us dumb, compliant and less likely to rise up and overthrow the shadowy conservative plutocracy that owns the media. But I've recapped last night's episode anyway for funzies.
Remember when Wednesdays were fun? When you could do as you wanted and not be a slave to the corporate machine? I miss those days.
All Apprentice and no play makes Becky a dull girl All Apprentice and no play makes Becky a dull girl All Apprentice and no play makes Becky a dull girl All Apprentice and no play makes Becky a dull girl
Just when I thought it was on the brink, The Apprentice pulls itself from the wreckage of last week's Coach Trip disaster
and delivers another doozy of an episode. I may just push back my trip to Dignitas for another week.
Thankfully this week's episode was much less dramatic. Following the sucker punch that was last week's triple firing, I don't think my heart could have taken it. However, it did mean we got the worst. Episode. Ever.
Apologies for the spoilerish title, but holy fuck, what just happened? I actually think I'm about to have an aneurysm. This is peak Apprentice, people; we're through the looking glass.
It's 4am. The phone rings at The Apprentice house and it's Lord Sugar himself. He's not calling about this week's task; he just fancies a chat because he's been up all night worrying that Nick's written something horrible about him in his Book of Secrets. After reassuring a tearful Alan that it's probably all in his mind, the candidates are assembled at the Royal Exchange, but no one can quite look him in the eye.
So black-belt Chiles has been given the chop from The Apprentice, but there are still 576 hopefuls left. Due to BBC scheduling, even though we're only on the second episode I can't remember what my life was like before this year's series started: when Lord Sugar announced that he is "the judge, jury and executioner" I hoped he would grant me the sweet release of death.
It's been 10 years and yet an Apprentice has still not managed to get the coveted Christmas No. 1. To improve his chances, Lord Sugar has widened the pool to 20 prospective "partners", thereby giving me 20 chances to swear at the TV on a Wednesday evening.