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08 May 2008
18:32:23 o'clock BST
Interview: "Extremely horrible and nasty..."
Who could Jenny be talking about? And who does she think is a "dirty bastard"?
Read
my in-depth interview with Jenny Celerier and Jennifer Maguire
here and find out what they have to say about their fellow candidates, breaking rules and stealing golf carts...
Funnily enough, they're not shy!
Don't forget to leave a comment...
Written by joejbbrett
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07 May 2008
22:09:13 o'clock BST
The Apprentice - Week 7
Dear reader, something is troubling me about The Apprentice. No - it's not the bullying. Nor is it the relentless boardroom hectoring, the brown-nosing of a deeply charmless entrepreneur or the narrator's dogged insistence that this year's candidates are there to make Richard Branson and Steve Jobs look like Del Boy and Rodney. No. What I'm puzzled about is why, at the beginning of every episode, Sara is pictured striding through the arrivals lounge of London City Airport, briefcase in hot little hand, when she lives in Leicester. She's an hour away from London by train - imagine the size of her carbon footprint! No wonder Jenny hates her!
Ah, yes, Jenny. The most reviled Apprentice contestant since Katie Hopkins. Will this be the week of her comeuppance? Read on to find out...
Show seven begins with another rude awakening from Frances the PA. (Note to Frances – as you spend all day playing Minesweeper and making Alan Sugar mugs of Bovril, you're not exactly doing the hiring and firing at the helm of British industry and therefore should probably drop your snotty attitude.) “Sir Alan would like to you pack for a two-day business trip to Morocco”, she sniffs, annoyed that Michael answered the phone, and that she wouldn't get to fantasise about Vimto-lipped dreamboat Alex standing around in his Wallace and Gromit boxer shorts while he grunts monosyllabically at her down the line.
“Really?” Michael asks. No, Michael, it was all a big joke. Really you're off to man the toilets at Victoria station overnight, charging drunks thirty pee to relieve themselves in the sinks. The team that mops up the most splashes wins. After suffering you all for six weeks thus far you OWE me that viewing pleasure.
Fast forward to the next morning, and the candidates are all present and correct in the lobby of a swank Marrakech hotel. Nick and Margaret, who are clad in lab technician white in a bid to disguise their dark souls, eye each and every one of them with contempt. Big Grey Al, since you ask, is busy helping Simon Ambrose fill in his timesheet so is unable to attend. However, he has managed to put together a DVD from which he delivers his usual baffling instructions. “I classify Marrakech as the bargaining capital of the world”, he begins, proving that he writes his own scripts. “You accept the first price they offer you then you've got to be the biggest mug on the planet. They'll eat you for breakfast. They'll chew you up and spit you out.” I'm not sure anybody eats breakfast like that...
The teams are divided into Alpha, which is headed by Lee and includes Lucinda, Sara, Helene and Raef; and Renaissance, comprising Michael, Claire, Alex and Jenny and led by Jennifer. Their task is to purchase ten items on a list for the lowest total price possible.
“Nick and Margaret will tell me which team has won”, he confirms. “They'll also tell me which team has lost,” he continues, “as I've always been a bit of a thicky-bo-bo when it comes to processes of elimination”
Off the teams go, then, to search for items such as tartan paint, the powdered horn of a unicorn, and heroin. No, not really. Genuine items on the list include a green alarm clock in the shape of a mosque, some kosher chicken and a Berber rug in a particular style. Sadly there is no cuddly toy, possibly because drowsy viewers waking up to see a giant stuffed panda next to Jenny's silhouette would have assumed they were watching a repeat of the Generation Game on Challenge TV.
Anyway, instead of doing any convoluted and pointless research, such as phoning some shops to see what they have in stock (did JR Hartley do those Yellow Pages ads for nothing?) Jennifer insists on dragging Claire and Alex straight down to the markets. They merrily set about haggling with a man who has a massive great big bloody sign reading 'PRIX FIXTE' outside his shop, and is therefore unwilling to give them any more than a pound off a juicer. Their second attempt at bargaining proves slightly more successful, with Alex managing to negotiate a third off a rug, but Claire gets his back up by pretending to be his girlfriend (calm it, Frances) and trying to take over the deal. “I've worked in sales all my life and the first rule is to never jump in on someone's sale”, he insists, hoping that we'll all believe he spent his school days closing deals over the phone like those creepy toddlers in the bog roll ads.
Meanwhile, seven million viewers reach for the earplugs as Michael and Jenny search for a cow hide (insert your own joke here kids). “We have velly velly little money”, Michael shouts to the trader, a mere step away from becoming one of those boors who spend their summers in Torremolinos going “Oi, Manuel” at waiters and then loudly demanding sausage, egg and chips without a “por favore” in sight. This has limited success, so Jenny steps in with her own proven tactic of yowling people into submission. “That's far too much for a cow hide!” she trills, as if she often puts one in her trolley when nipping round George at Asda. “Two thousand five hundred dirham for a cow hide with holes in it! We can't pay that!”, she screeches. The cost is whittled down to 825 dirham. I guess that's not bad going on the traders' part. I'd have given her that money just to make her sling her shrill, chinny hook.
Later, events turn from the ridiculous to the unbelievable when they try and buy some kosher chicken from a Muslim butcher. Unfortunately, Jenny is of the mistaken belief that kosher and Halal meats are one and the same, which surely rules her out of landing the catering contract for the next round of Middle East peace talks. “I want a chicken!” she demands, as a group of confused Moroccan onlookers increase their distrust of the western world. “I want it blessed!” she shrieks. “I need to have it blessed by somebody from the mosque so it is kosher!”
Jesus wept. How depressing that an attempt to buy a chicken sees them ending up with a turkey... (geddit?)
While all this is happening, Jennifer's side of the team picks up three oven dishes of the wrong brand, and buys an alarm clock in the wrong colour. “It's very poorat this stage” sighs the beleaguered Margaret, unaware that she'd be foaming at the mouth should she have chosen to accompany Jenny and Michael on their adventures. And yes, when I say “foaming at the mouth” I probably mean “going mad with a gun”.
Unlike Renaissance, Lee's team spends a bit of time researching what they need to buy and, er, arguing about what they should wear. “Getting into the local garb would make a huge difference”, proclaims Raef. However, as Lucinda has clearly put a lot of thought into which of her many billowing fuchsia ponchos she'd wear that day, the subject is swiftly put to bed. Interestingly, whoever spent two years steering Lee through GCSE Business Studies taught him to swap any motivational speeches for an array of loud and peculiar noises. “Are we ready to win?” he trumpets, before doing his best impressions of an alarm clock and a parakeet. Weird. If I was a shopkeeper and saw somebody doing that, chances are I'd put the grilles down and hide behind the counter. Not invite him in to gawp at tat and trinkets.
While Helene (of whom we see very little this week) and Raef chum up to look for cow hides and tagines, Lee, Sara and Lucinda head down to the markets. Unfortunately, they fail to make much headway and only have two of their items by mid-afternoon. In a bid to get hold of some tennis racquets, the three of them head to an upmarket shopping centre – and are dismayed to find that Jenny and Michael have got there first. In a move that Jenny clearly thinks makes her look like a competition-winning genius and not a petty, desperate cheat, she tries to bribe the salespeople to break the racquet-stringing machines so Alpha have to leave empty-handed. The salespeople, quite rightly, refuse.
One little problem solved, Lee's team grapples with yet another - they only have an hour left, they've yet to find a juicer, and all the shops are closing.
“F***!” says Lee.
“Bigger than f***”, corrects Lucinda, making water come out of my nose and promptly securing my support for the rest of the series. I'm going to use that phrase for the rest of the summer. I'm going to try and use it for the rest of my life. Posh people swearing – one of life's greatest pleasures!
They come up with the plan of trying to purchase a second-hand one from a juice stall. Although one vendor refuses to part with his kit, word soon spreads that a group of tourists are looking to pay good money for second-hand goods. Not one but two juicers quickly turn up, leaving Sara with the task of negotiating the price down to, er, that of the brand-new one that they should have bought earlier. They make it back to their hotel just before their 6.30pm deadline.
From his London home, which has gold taps and oil paintings of Sky+ boxes on the walls, Sir Alan calls Nick and Margaret to ask who has won, and indeed, who has lost. It proves that Alpha managed to purchase everything for the paltry sum of £413.61. However, Renaissance spent £449.60 and have been hit with fines for purchasing non-kosher meat and the wrong kind of ovenware. The two teams promptly return to the UK, with Alpha in first class British Airways and Jennifer's lot shipped over in a veal crate.
“You can go into the boardroom now”, snoots Frances, who then returns to filing her nails and dreaming of one day becoming Margaret Mountford: The Next Generation.
Big Grey Al is not pleased – and he's gunning for everyone on the other side of the table. Firstly, he mentions Jenny's age in a bid to point out that by rights she should be a little more worldly-wise than her team mates. “It's my birthday today Sir Alan!” she gurns. “Congratulations”, he replies, in a deadpan voice. “At 36 years old, are you seriously telling me that you've never heard the terminology 'kosher' and you don't know that it's associated with Jewish people?” She replies in the negative.
Michael also gets some stick for their “chicken fiasco”. “You said that you're a good Jewish boy on your CV”, Big Grey Al declares, while squinting at Michael with his little raisin eyes. “I'm only half-Jewish Sir Alan!”, Michael replies. “If you're not sure then we can always pull your trousers down and we can check”, Sugar continues, to snorts of laughter from Alex and confused expressions from Claire and Jennifer. Jenny, meanwhile, tries not to wet her knickers in delight at being offered yet another thread to pull on and eventually tie a fellow candidate up with. Without a pause, she sticks the knife into Michael, claiming that he should have known that kosher meats and Halal meats are not the same thing. “With his Jewish roots I thought he'd understand”, she declares, fighting back a smile before leaning back in her chair, job done, smug as a cat with a cream-flavoured arse.
However, at long last, it's her turn to get stitched up! “A few moments ago you didn't know that kosher was associated with Jewishness”, Alan barks. “You didn't know it until I raised the issue, but now you're saying that you did know what it was, because you were relying on Michael's Jewish connections.” She also gets a kicking for trying to sabotage the other team's tennis racquets. “Bit of a cheap shot”, snipes a disdainful Nick Hewer.
For once, Jenny is lost for words. After seven long weeks, people across the country begin to turn their TV volume back up.
In a “shock twist”, the Greys do not request for the team leader to choose two people to join them in the firing line. Instead, Alan asks for all five of them to come back in. This, I like to think, is to maximise Jenny's humiliation when she's kicked off the show. “It seems to me that you hang on every word I say then turn it on your colleagues”, Big Grey Al rasps. “No good. Jenny – you're fired.”
I look out the window. Grown men are hugging each other in the street and weeping. And back in the boardroom, Jennifer can't help but grin. This turns out to be a massive mistake on her part, as she soon finds herself up for the chop on account of being an utterly shoddy project manager who kept buying the wrong items and couldn't keep control of the team members who were out of her sight. “You couldn't even read”, Sir Alan sneers – an accusation the “Best Saleswoman in Europe as voted by her mum” wastes no time in defending herself against.
Hilariously, Jennifer is then foxed by the door when she storms out of the room. She desperately tries to push it open, unable to comprehend that the little sign above the handle reads 'Pull'. Embarrassing! But maybe not as embarrassing as asking as Muslim butcher for a kosher chicken.
Rejoice! Rejoice in the comments boxes below! Let me know what you thought of tonight's firings - after the misjudgments of the past few weeks, has Sugar got his groove back? Click below to let me know...
Written by joejbbrett
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12:09:14 o'clock BST
Tonight's show: Apprentice Abroad
Close the borders! The Apprentice contestants are off to Morocco for this week's task, and quite frankly I'd prefer it if they all stayed there.
Tune in at 9pm to witness the increasingly loathsome Jenny Celery committing "an act of espionage", then head back here at 10pm to vent your frustrations. Of which there will be many. Oh yes.
In the meantime, here's another clip courtesy of the very talented BolegBros...
Written by joejbbrett
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01 May 2008
14:50:29 o'clock BST
Feeling Sad
Kevin interview: cancelled
Apologies, everyone - I nipped out to interview Kevin at lunchtime only to find out that he'd cried off for "personal reasons". Gutted. Sorry to disappoint you all!
Instead, here's a clip I found on the internet of Kevin being interviewed by Margaret Mountford.
Whoops! My mistake! That's not Kevin at all... etc, etc.
Written by joejbbrett
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30 April 2008
22:11:35 o'clock BST
Feeling Angry
The Apprentice - Week 6
Day breaks. The phone rings. And 11 aspiring capitalists, who hope to prove that they have the mental muscle and business know-how to match the fierce minds and money-making skills of Simon 'Abandoned Puppy' Ambrose and Michelle 'Celebrity Scissorhands' Dewberry, shuffle over to Hackney Town Hall. Alan Sugar was born in Hackney, you see, and likes to remind everybody who lives in this poorest of boroughs about it by being chauffeured around the area in his Rolls Royce, nose in the air.
Sir Alan Sugar – he's a card.
And speaking of cards, this week's task is a humdinger. Not only does each team have to design five greetings cards based on a particular theme and sell them to the three biggest card retailers, they also have to create a brand new occasion to go with them. Just what the world needs! Another day of the year where you can't walk past a branch of Cards Galore without signs in the window harping at you to waste your hard-earned on trinkets featuring the wit and wisdom of Purple Ronnie. Oh good.
Michael heads up Alpha, a team that includes Lucinda, Helene, Raef, Jennifer and Lee. Meanwhile, Kevin installs himself as leader of Renaissance and promptly starts 'motivating' Jenny, Alex, Claire and Sara. “I want to be the world's most successful businessman by the age of 40”, he declares, as Sara and Claire swap looks of thinly-veiled horror.
Well, he's not going to do it with any of his team's suggestions. Jenny, she of the Bruce Forsyth jaw and Anne Robinson sneer, comes up with cards for graduation days and, more laughably, ones to show that you care about saving the earth. After all, what better way to encourage environmental awareness than chopping down an entire rainforest in order to make tacky cards that nobody but shopaholics and emotional cripples would even think twice about putting in their basket. Brilliant!
In fact, the only half-decent suggestion comes from a reluctant Sara. She suggests designing a range of cards for religious events such as Eid – an occasion that doesn't get much of a look-in in your average branch of Smiths. “There is a market for them”, she insists. However, as Jenny can't stand it when people have better ideas than her, she promptly sets about tearing Sara apart with an unhinged verbal diatribe in the style of Janet Street-Porter with toothache.
Funnily enough, a local gift shop doesn't sell cards with haikus about wind turbines and recycling your empties (which is a shame because I bet there's a lot of those round at the Amstrad offices come Monday lunchtime). And despite the clear message that they are absent because nobody would want to buy them, Kevin decides that this is a gap in the market that urgently needs to be filled. 'Save The Planet Week' is born. Cue several hours of team members coming up with limericks that primary school teachers would think better of putting on the wall.
“A house with no insulation,” begins Alex, as seven million viewers hold their heads in their hands, “Is a crime against the nation. So don't be a cheat, keep in the heat and protect the next generation.”
Imagine, for a second, receiving a card with that message inside. I for one would be walking around my house switching on all the lights, then opening all the windows and turning up the heating.
Then I'd be driving 200 yards up the road in an eighteen-wheeler and ordering a McDonalds.
“They're all getting really passionate about it!” crows Jenny, her mandible swelling with pride. “I've even had Kevin saying he'll trade his Porsche in for a bicycle”, she declares. “And Claire's going to stop taking budget flights to Faliraki! While I'm going to start growing my own potatoes in my mattress!” These last two comments she didn't make, of course, but we all know they have just as high a chance of happening as the first.
Something else unlikely to occur is Kevin letting Claire (a sales rep) and Jenny (a woman who puts the mentalist in environmentalist) make the next day's presentations to potential buyers Clinton Cards, the Celebrations Group and Tesco. “I would relish the opportunity to do it”, he says, in his weird squeaky Vicky Pollard voice. “Anyone who feels that the environment isn't worth saving is going to lose the argument.” Let's just hope his sales skills are better than his cooking.
While Kevin and Sara visit a design studio to work on the cards' layouts, Jenny, Alex and Claire hire models for a photoshoot with the brief of taking five different ecological-themed images for the front covers. Jenny, who has 'Gingerbread House' written all over her, makes a child cry while forcing him to ride a bicycle. Happy save the planet week, everyone!
Meanwhile, an unlikely male model named Tom has his picture taken while flashing his spotty arse and pretending to be farting. It's a clumsy metaphor for wind power, of course,but I do wish “committed greenie” Jenny had remembered that human-related methane production is one of the biggest problems environmental lobbyists have to tackle. Twenty-eight percent of it is produced by cattle farming; the other 72% of it is a result of the hot air belched out of Miss Celerier's unholy gob when she's in the workplace. It's true. It says so on the internet.
“I would really need to balls it up big time for it not to sell”, says Kevin, on his way to their first presentation. A self-fulfilling prophecy it is, then. Hurray!
“I want to give you some facts that are valuable not only to Clinton Cards but to every man woman and child walking this planet”, he begins, as a wobbly man and a teak-faced execublonde stare at him with murder in their eyes. Kevin then prattles on about how much rubbish gets thrown away every year (he neglects to mention the amount that gets broadcast on BBC1).
“Who do you think is going to buy these cards?”, they ask. “Do you think that's going to make anybody laugh?”, continues the woman, pointing at a card containing water-saving tips such as “Don't flush the loo / Unless you've had a poo”. (Thanks Alex.)
Kevin has the answer to that. “If you don't get behind these cards that's just the same as the US saying we don't care about pollution”, he says, as Jenny's mahoosive jaw drops and Alex cringes. Mr and Mrs Clintons certainly don't have any further questions, that's for sure.
Things are equally icy at Celebrations. “Wouldn't you save the paper and send an e-card?”, Mrs Celebrations asks. “I understand the message is good, but I'm struggling to see that the best way to deliver it is with a card”, she continues. Only the buyers at Tesco react to the idea with anything other than extreme disdain. “I feel that we captured their hearts” says Jenny, who probably has them in her bag, in a jar.
Things look equally desperate on the other team. Jennifer comes up with the idea of cards for “National Joke Day” - that one about her being the best saleswoman in Europe will be the biggest seller of all, surely - whereas Michael suggests cards for people who are about to have breast enlargements. As somebody who can't resist an appalling pun, the first tag line that came to mind was “Get well-developed soon”. Hallmark, you can have that one for free. (Add your own below, go on, make me laugh.)
However, Raef comes up with the idea of launching an official Singles' Dayto counter the swarms of pink hearts and fluffy bunnies sent between the doe-eyed every February 14th. “I like that”, says Helene (I'm saying nothing). I don't, though. It's bad enough when smug married couples try setting their happily single friends up with people more interested in picking their nose than polite conversation, but, under Raef's command, they'll now get to send them cards admonishing them for enjoying solitude. Cards signed with two names. With kisses. Those bastards. I hate them.
Um... oh yeah! The Apprentice. Right. After Michael requests for a volunteer to lead the pitch, Raef steps up. “The spoken word is my tool!” he cries. “The art of sales relies heavily on the ability to communicate efficiently and the ability to persuade... ah... and those are two abilities that I have, er, um...” he trails off.
I think we'd all rather be single than go out with Raef. No offence mate.
Meanwhile, you could knock me down with the feather from Lucinda's cap when Helene takes yet another of her innocent comments as a personal slight. “We need to to discuss the roles [at the photoshoot] between the three of us”, she suggests. “Nobody's telling me what to do”, harrumphs Helene, while hitching up her bosoms and pulling a face like Les Dawson in drag. “Lucinda's looking for an argument all the time”, she later insists. Funny how I'm not seeing that. All I'm seeing is Cindy, in her fuchsia beret and skirt, dragging along a cloud of brightly-coloured balloons while looking deeply dismayed. The moment could be a cartoon from the New Yorker. I'd buy a card with that on it. I think we all would.
Over at the printing office, Michael is wrestling with an apostrophe. As he has no idea where it should be placed in his text, he does what any of us would do and phones a national newspaper to ask. Rebuffed, he then phones the British Library, where the woman on the phone has no idea either. At this point I am so furious that I attempt to put my laptop through its own screen, and have to go and have a large bowl of blue cheese and cranberry ice cream to calm down.
Admittedly, Raef during a pitch meeting is mesmerising. “We have not just created a card, we have created an industry!” he begins. “We have created a diary entry!” the champion of the single man and woman booms, as birds on the steps outside the office take to the skies in fright. Sadly, that diary entry falls on February the 13th. “I think you'vemissed thepoint”, sighs Mr Clintons. “Forty percent of our store will have been turned over for Valentine's Day. I'm not sure we'd want to try and have it fight against one of our major seasons.”
Tesco respond equally badly. “So logistically, on the day before one of the busiest days of the year you want to try and sell different cards to what's already being sold?”, the Tesco man asks, while barely concealing his laughter. “And who's going to buy the other card?” It's simple, silly! The husband or girlfriend or... oh. Yeah. The ex, maybe? Especially if there's one reading 'Happy Cuckolding!'
By the time they reach the Celebrations Group, Michael has insisted upon not mentioning that particular date. But will this last-ditch attempt to flog cards be enough to save their skins? Only smart-arse has the answer...
“As a merchandiser, where am I going to stick this on the shelf in my shop?” Big Grey Al roars in the direction of the singles club. The environmental disasters don't come out of it very well either. “Cards are for sending a personal sentiment”, he points out. “They don't send cards to politically preach”, he continues. Perhaps Jenny, Kevin and co should have realised that part of Alan Sugar's empire is a private jets business, and therefore he probably doesn't care all that much about his carbon footprint.
Anyway, Tesco buys 6,000 environmentalism cards. That's three per UK store. I don't think that's going to go a long way in convincing China to switch to solar power. Clintons and Celebrations both decline to purchase any at all.
However, things look a bit brighter for Team Alpha, who notch up a grand total of 22,500 orders. “COME ON!” yelps Michael, in more relief than joy. The stare Margaret dishes out to him could make the Venus de Milo look away. “This outburst of yours is not something I'd condone normally in this boardroom”, Sir Alan Sugar confirms, before embarking upon an afternoon of dishing out comments like “As sure as there's a hole in my bladdy arse...”
Gone are the days when the contestants won trips on the Orient Express – this week Team Alpha is rewarded for their efforts with a private recital from the world-renowned virtuoso that is ex-Hear'Say pop star Myleene Klass. Cue Lucinda, Michael and Lee checking their watches and drinking heavily while Myleene tootles out 'Pure and Simple' on the recorder.
Kevin brings Claire and (inexplicably) Sara back into the boardroom to faceSir Alan's wrath. They also have to listen to his unbelievable musings on what's appropriate material for Clinton Cards to be stacking on their shelves. “I would have complimented you if you'd come up with a range of bereavement cards that say, 'Sorry your 11 year old beautiful child got shot in the head by a hoodie'; 'Sorry that your loving husband with two children got kicked to a pulp'. These are the things that people might have signed up to”, he states. On camera. Before an audience of millions.
Do you know what - I'd be speechless about it if I wasn't so damned angry. Firstly, how could anyone be so impossibly crass as to want to coin it out of people grieving for those who have been brutally and pointlessly murdered? And secondly, how much Grand Theft Auto does this man play of an evening? Doesn't he realise that these events thankfully take place a very small number of times a year, and thus he'd sell barely a hundred cards in total anyway?
The worst bit is that not one of the spineless twerps in there challenges him on it. Appalling.
After that little brain-not-connected-to-the-mouth incident, the rest of the show passes, for me, in a red mist. All I can really remember is Kevin getting the boot after he and Claire try and pin their failure on Sara (who, you may recall, came up with the only relatively good idea). And, worst of all, Jenny gets to survive another day.
That Sir Alan Sugar, eh? He's a “card”.
Do you think Kevin should have gone tonight? Or did you want Sara to go? And what the heck was Sir Alan talking about in the boardroom? Was it all just a big joke that I didn't pick up on? Let me know in the comments boxes below...
Written by joejbbrett
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12:53:09 o'clock BST
Dear Apprentice fans...
For a man who famously once signed a card to his wife of 40 years with "From Alan Sugar," it's a bit rich that the multi-millionaire technology hedgehog asks the remaining candidates to go out and design greetings cards in tonight's show.
I wonder what poems they'll come up with. In readiment, I've had a go at one myself:
Some of them are lawyers
And some of them are bankers
But this week's task
Will fail to mask
That they're all a bunch of young and enthusiastic go-getters with solid business acumen.
Waste your afternoon by giving me your attempts below!
I'll be blogging as usual, so join me after tonight's show to tell me what you think of Big Grey Al's latest firing.
And - Lego.
The Lucinda is priceless.
Written by joejbbrett
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24 April 2008
18:12:09 o'clock BST
Lindi's interview
"I hope you break your heel, fall flat on
your face, and then you can't come into the boardroom later because I hate you..."
Read this and other gems in my interview with the very charming yet spectacularly immodest Lindi Mngaza.
Find out who she likes, just how mad Lucinda is and who, in her opinion, shouldn't be there at all...
Don't forget to come back and comment!
Written by joejbbrett
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23 April 2008
21:56:02 o'clock BST
Feeling Quiet
The Apprentice - Week 5
When Alan Sugar rings that doorbell at 7.30am, you can guarantee that he isn't expecting it to be answered by Andy Capp's missus. Whoops! Sorry, my mistake – it's Claire in her British Home Stores dressing gown, her hair in rollers, one fag in her mouth and another one singeing the curtains. What a welcome. I bet Sugar doesn't get that at home. After all, the man has been in business for 40,000 years and has made twelvety billion pounds out of flogging substandard electronics to morons. The man is loaded. I bet his housekeeper looks like Jessica Rabbit.
Eventually, the bedraggled candidates haul their bones out of bed and line up for inspection. Big Grey Al is so horrified at the sight of them that he forgets what he came round for, gives them a Cornetto each and tells them to go and play in the countryside.
This week's task is to develop some ice cream flavours for two different independent farmers and sell them to vendors in London. Claire heads up Renaissance, a team comprising Michael, Kevin, Jenny, Alex and Sara. Team Alpha, meanwhile, is project managed by Minnie the Minx from the Beano.“I don't believe you have to be a bitch in business to succeed”, Minnie says, as it dawns on you that she's actually Lucinda in yet another outfit that Gwen Stefani wouldn't touch with a barge pole. “Project [pronounced 'prohhh-ject'] managers are there to facilitate teams, not necessarily dictate,” she continues. “Working together and having fun brings outstanding results.”
Lucinda, then, seems to think that she'll be spending the next two days recreating Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. And, to be fair, the ice cream flavours her team comes up with do sound appropriately wacky. The ingredients mentioned initially include goji berries, wheatgrass and gingseng – all healthy, all even healthier when whipped up with a pint of double cream and frozen. Mmm.
“Everybody thinks Lucinda's a bit eccentric, a bit of a fruitcake,” says Helene, as Lucinda obligingly starts to suggest taste sensations such as blue cheese and cranberry, and dandelion and wildebeest. To be fair, though, I think blue cheese, cranberries and ice cream are the three most delicious things in the universe. And, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense – they all go down the same hole y'know! The campaign to get Lucinda on Celebrity Come Dine With Me starts here!
Sadly, though, the team settles on try-outs of three flavours: 'cosmopolitan', toffee apple, and, er, avocado. And, as Heston Blumenthal phones his lawyers, Lucinda, Helene and Lee start making their desserts. Two hours later, Lucinda and Helene are actually starting to enjoy each other's company. “Lucinda has a good manner with managing her team”, says Margaret Mountford. “I think she's doing quite well.”
I pause, a second, to make sure the world hasn't spun off its axis.
Meanwhile, Lucinda's sales team – Lindi (who is second in command), Raef and Jennifer – are cold-calling. “My name is Raef!” he brays, like he's at the world's poshest meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. “I'm CEO of Alpha luxury ice creams!” Sounds delicious, Raef! I've often thought that Carte D'Or missed a trick by not borrowing their name from the Greek alphabet. Jennifer tries a different tactic. “Oi really waaant to come and see yers”, she honks down the other line.
That evening, Lindi orders some smock-wearing villagers to stop ducking witches and come and give her an opinion on their 'cosmopolitan' ice cream. And, after one of them says that it tastes like Smash, it's decided that the toffee apple and avocado flavours will be the ones going into production. “We're going to mix the teams up tomorrow if that's all right with everyone”, says Lucinda, once they're back at the house. The icy silence that follows indicates that it's not all right with anybody at all. The teams stay unmixed.
Team Renaissance, meanwhile, cook up some equally far-fetched recipes. Chocolate orange sounds hideously sweet and sickly; cider and elderflower sounds less like an ice cream and more like an afternoon pick-me-up for Asbo grannies; and 'Berry Mania', which includes strawberries, blueberries, logan berries, holly berries and Michael's Blackberry (Whoops! Butterfingers!) should probably be renamed something like 'Berry Low Level Mental Illness'.
As Alex, Kevin and Sara start getting their hands creamy, Claire, Jenny and Michael head off to a local cider brewery. Claire staggers back into the kitchen six hours later, three sheets to the wind, leaving the teams with just two hours to finish making their products. Meanwhile, Michael tries to drum up some interest in a taste test. However, the only people this side of the coffin that he manages to find are a group of old biddies at the village yoga class. Imagine half a dozen Tubbses from The League of Gentlemen, all farting away in the lotus position, and you're not too far wide of the mark. None of them want any ice cream. Possibly because Michael is not local.
Eventually, the team decides to drop the chocolate orange flavour after receiving some threatening letters from Dawn French.
The next day, Renaissance has only two sales meetings booked in. “I think three people calling non-stop all day could make more than two appointments”, moans Alex. Come on Alex, if you think that's bad, you should see Lucinda, who is trying to flog her wares to an Italian ice cream vendor that's somewhat less than keen. “I-a mak-a it-a my-a-self-a”, he confirms, as Helene reaches below the counter and switches off his freezer.
Meanwhile, Michael and Jenny attempt to sell their products door to door. “Very berry?” he offers, blithely infringing all sorts of copyright. Jenny mentions that their ice cream is good for you as one serving is the equivalent of one portion of fruit and veg per day. What a swell idea, Jenny! I'm going to stop buying apples and broccoli and just eat your ice cream all day instead. Ooh, I can't wait to be slim!
Things take an even bleaker turn when Kevin tries to tell a potential customer that his ice cream is “sexy”. Bleurgh. That's the last thing you want to hear from him. Not only because the last person who applied a big dollop of cold cream to any part of his anatomy was probably the acne nurse.
Anyway, the teams aren't just selling to individual shops and restaurants; both of them have plans to snare business from a chain of cinemas. Alex starts to believe it's in the bag for Renaissance when he sets up a second meeting with somebody from the Clapham Picture House, but Jennifer - who always struck me as being several degrees cooler than any room she's in - whisks it away from under his nose by organising an appointment with the men directly in charge. “If you make an order today, and I'm confident you will, you will have exclusive rights to sell this ice cream”, she confirms, as Lindi gazes on vacantly and Margaret Mountford chokes on her Solero. A deal for 100 litres is promptly signed. Claire is not pleased. “Sh*t!”, she cries, after somebody off-screen asks her what her cider and elderflower ice cream tastes like.
Sorry. Too easy.
Only two further big deals are made, and both of them are at restaurants. Taking her cuefrom Jennifer, Lindi secures a 130 litre deal with a gastropub chain by throwing in a three month exclusivity contract. “It just doesn't get any better!”, she shrieks, as Lee gets over-excited and starts doing Tim Westwood impressions in the back of the car like he's on Pimp My Ride: The Moorgate Years. On the other side of town, Jenny, Michael and Claire throw themselves back into the game at the last minute by selling 200 litres to a trendy wine bar. Frances, send them into the boardroom, please...
Jenny and Kevin are full of praise for Claire, their team leader. And, even more astonishingly, Lee and Helene have equally positive things to say about Lucinda. “She pulled her finger out her arse”, Helene confirms, as if she were leaning over her garden fence and not in the war room of a multi-million pound electronics company. Even Alan Sugar praises Cindy for her idea of jumbling up the teams so that each one included somebody who made the ice cream in the first place.
I've never seen anything like it on The Apprentice. Surely Lucinda's team has got to win this one...
No?
Oh.
For the first time in living memory, both teams turned a profit to be proud of. However, as Claire's lot took £200 more than their competitors, Team Renaissance is packed off to a country house to go a few rounds of archery and shoot some peasants. Jennifer, meanwhile, starts sticking the knife into her project manager for wanting to change who was in which team.
Lee McQueen, it's fair to say, is concerned. “Not once did you say that there was an issue with teams”, he shouts, as Jennifer slits her eyes and purses her lips. “And as soon as you're in the boardoom there's a f***ing issue”, he continues. And with these words, a twenty-minute game of pass the buck begins. “Can we bring this back to business?” sighs Margaret Mountford, after Lucinda undoes all her hard work in making the world like her by accusing Helene of saying that Jennifer is a snake. Oh dear. She's got a point, of course, but I wish she'd made it privately.
Sir Alan's main beef with the losing team's efforts is that Jennifer and Lindi started offering exclusive contracts when they had no right to do so without consulting their farmer. “If I'd known about this before then those sales would have been void,” he spits, “and you'd have lost big time”. Lucinda takes this as a hint that she should bring Jennifer and Lindi back into the boardroom with her. Jennifer fumes. Lindi smiles vacantly.
Even though Lucinda apologises to them both for bringing them back in with her, she's not so sorry that she doesn't do a pretty fantastic job of defending herself. Jennifer and Lindi are left in the firing line - and the smile is finally wiped off Lindi's face when she's booted back to Brum. “I think Sir Alan didn't see enough from me!”, she smiles, vacantly, in the back of her taxi. “Never mind, I'm off to be a TV presenter,” she doesn't continue. “Want to see my showreel?”*
Yippee! Nice of Big Grey Al to finally start picking off the dead wood, isn't it? But do you think Jennifer should have gone instead, or maybe even Lucinda? Let me know by commenting below.
*Readers of Holy Moly will have seen last Friday's newsletter, which linked to Lindi's personal website. It had the words 'TV PRESENTER' smeared across it in large lettering and featured a clip of Lindi interviewing a reality show dancer. These elements of her site have since been removed. Funny that.
Written by joejbbrett
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11:16:42 o'clock BST
Feeling Happy
It's Apprentice Wednesday! Yet again!
I scream, you scream, we all scream "for f***'s sake"...
You see, tonight's Apprentice promises to be the best one in the series so far. Tune in at 9pm to watch our two teams of mewling business numpties creating brand new ice cream flavours and attempting to sell them to London restaurants.
Well. That's the idea. I'm expecting at least one of them to buy a job lot of Zooms and attempt to shift them on a ward of diabetics. Shame Ben and Jerry's already does a flavour called 'Half Baked'.
I'll be updating this 'ere blog soon after the show tonight - come back later to help me point and laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuggghh...
Meanwhile, here's last week's boardroom in plastic bricks.
Written by joejbbrett
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21 April 2008
15:40:10 o'clock BST
Tabloid hell
In response to last Monday's drab sacrifical offerings of Apprentice-related gossip, the papers seem to have pulled out all the stops in order to bring us the most salacious rumour-mongering so far.
First up is Saturday's Daily Mail, which carried a decade-old photo of Claire bearing her nips while working as a holiday rep in Majorca. Wowee. Woman on holiday in drunken boobage flash shockah. Mary Whitehouse would be spinning in her grave. Black bars at the ready, BBC censors!
More alarming news came from the Sunday People. "SECRET TORMENT OF APPRENTICE TV BITCH", it screamed, above an article detailing Jenny being held hostage by a drug-crazed former lover who threatened to set fire to her. Yikes. Bet the boardroom is a walk in the park compared to that little lot. I'll say this once and then deny it forever, but - poor old Jenny, eh?
And, of course, it would be wrong to gloss over the frank admission made by Simon in the Sunday Mirror. "I blew over £20,000 on cocaine in five years. I was completely selfish. My whole life revolved around getting wrecked", he told the paper, before revealing that he was off his rocker for most of his honeymoon too.
"I
completely ripped my ex-wife's life apart", he continued. "There is not a day goes by when I don't think, 'What an absolute arsehole I've been'." Blimey. It's always the not-so-quiet ones, isn't it?
Written by joejbbrett
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