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The Apprentice - Week 7
07/05/08
01/05/08
07 May 2008
22:09:00 o'clock BST
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...
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22:09:00 o'clock BST
The Apprentice - Week 7
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 Blog about this entry |
Add to del.icio.us | digg this
This entry has 35 comments: (Add your own)
-
Brilliant! Two Jenny's for the price of one gone! Was on the edge of my sofa, had opened a bottle of red wine, and can't even recall drinking it (9pm- cork goes, 10pm WTF happened to that!) Was deleriously in tely heaven and pouring away!
Jenny (Ginger with chin) had really been the one that got away too many times - Bribery and corruption - indeed! Reminded me of the series where (name escapes) female decided to threaten and name drop Sir Alan's name in negotiations in previous series. Other Jen (lipstick, also chin but dark hair) was also skating on thin ice with the previous "exclusivity" deals with ice cream/ partaking in the £5k bid for a £200 washing linen job, and also on board for the £15 for a multitude of bloodied clothes Fishmonger's laundry job. Best sales person in Europe.......I think not, not, not. Best tely I've seen since the last episode - yes, yes, yes (EVEN bearing in mind that LOST is back on....and with that eye candy giving even lushious Alex a serious run for his money) - Can't wait for next Wednesday, Wednesday is the new Saturday!! (Getting carried away, I'll go now) -
I've read all the other comments about the contestants being clueless arses - and have to say that as a businessman myself the only one I would consider taking onto my books is Raef who seems a good salesman and to posess some modicum of decency, in which the others are sadly lacking. Shame he can't spell his name though.
Despite the criticisms it's compelling viewing; I find it truly astonishing that so many well-educated and ambitious people can plumb ever lower depths of ethics week on week, telling barefaced lies that they must know will be aired to a flabberghasted nation.
Is a six-figure salary worth selling one's soul for? Don't these people have parents with even the tiniest streak of decency? What will Edinburgh University have to say about one of their alumni? For the answer to this and many other questions, I can't wait for next week's spellbinding episode.
Gripped of Dover
Oh, and aren't the Lego spoofs the best ever? -
Finally, we lose Jenny, and the applause is heard all over England (and my bit of Wales particularly).
Not sure why the show keeps me spellbound, but it has become more addictive each week, and your blog is the icing on the cake, Joe, as it always makes me laugh.
You previously mentioned that Michael might be in with a chance, do you still feel the same after the Kosher chicken fiasco ?
Was amazed that he was not included in a mass firing. -
Would it be outrageously improper to ask who the f—ck is paying for this cornucopia of unadulterated crapp.
Bad enough the license payer has to foot the bill to send this menagerie of self-ingratiating, un-talented, un-organised and decidedly un-imaginative bunch of cretins as far as Margate.
But a crowed of morons lacking in any of the recognisable skills that might warrant a six figure salary being totted around the globe at our expense is hardly what I would call a good use of license payers money.
That we should be forced to pay, what must have amounted to several tens of thousands of ponds to send them and the rest of the entourage to Marrakech, searching, would you believe, for alarm clocks and tennis rackets is an insult to our intelligence.
That concept could only have been dreamed up by someone that thinks Marrakech "Is the bargaining capital of the world or for that matter the capital of any soding thing other than bad smells and goats shit. The man really needs to get his head out of the cash register and get a bloody life. It is, I am afraid, beyond my comprehension that it is allowed to go on. Just how far does the producer have his or her head up their arse?
If Sir Allan Bleeding Sugar wants to show off his obvious limited worldly knowledge and also wants an apprentice whose main claim to fame is to be able to sit on his or her arse in a Persian Bizarre sipping Turkish coffee while bargaining for a kosher chicken and a cow skin, then I think we should make him pay for the shit.
Let’s face it, we are told every week how much he is worth and meanwhile we are being penalised by the programme and it’s off shoots, consuming valuable prime time TV slots.
Let’s take it off and put on something more entertaining. “Snail Breeding and Compost Making in the Suburbs” or perhaps “Knitting and Basket Making for beginners” Boring but useful.
09/05/08 12:13
Okay, so they, especially Michael, should have known that you probably wouldn't be able to buy a Kosher chicken from a moslem butcher but compared to last year's contestant who took a load of cheapo cheddar to France and then tried to fry sausages over a candle they look like nobel prize winners( I seem to remember he was unrepentant too - perhaps a perfect mate for Jenny C?).
Glad to see Lady Macbeth get her come-uppance but doubt anything anyone says to her will sink in. Her "competitive spirit" reminded me of a quote from an American military commander during the cold war who said that if there were only 2 Americans and 1 Russian left alive after a world-wide nuclear war then the Americans would have won.
The program is really now more about entertainment than business though I'm sure we can all learn from their many and varied mistakes.
Love the blog though - keep it up!
p.s. anyone have the recipe for that tasty-sounding dish Surallan mentioned - "Chicken Fiasco"