The Apprentice Recaps
News, Reviews, Features, Trailers & Rants...
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.
The cathedral bells remain silent, because He is unsatisfied. Year after year the people place presents at His feet: nigella seeds, skeletons
and African black soap
and yet the bells pay no heed. In this, His 70th year, the Lord Sugar demands nine sacrifices and only then shall the bells ring out and one lucky parishioner shall have bestowed upon them a £250k business opportunity.
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.
The Three Laws of Robotics, as devised by Isaac Asimov, are guiding principles whose purpose is to avoid robots rising up and destroying us all. The Laws state that no robot shall be able to neither harm nor allow harm to a human being, nor be programmed to conflict the first law, even if it risks its own existence. This week, the Apprentice contestants push Asimov's laws to the limit, thereby triggering the robopocalypse.
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.
A team of Oxford University physicists has recently determined that, despite popular opinion, reality is not a simulation created by a massive extraterrestrial computer, because physics. But how do you explain all of 2016? "Be under no illusion," says Lord Sugar. "In this process, I'm the one who decides who's going to remain, and I'm the one who decides who's going to leave, simple as that." What if life is just one long Amstrad computer program? No wonder the world's gone to pot.
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.
What's for dinner tonight? Is it ... ROAST LAMB? Because ... because they're like lambs, you see, and they're getting roasted, and, and ... oh, forget it. It's Interview Week, that's all you've come for. Are you not entertained?
There's one man left and five women, just like that dream I keep having about being overpowered by the female Gladiators.
This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill: the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill: you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. Remember: all I'm offering is the truth. Nothing more.