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The Apprentice - Week 8
08/05/08
07/05/08
07/05/08
01/05/08
14 May 2008
21:47:00 o'clock BST
“Well here we are then”, grunts one of the surlier gargoyles at the church of St Bartholomew the Great, where the 'great' and 'good' of Britain's aspiring businesspeople have assembled. Upon closer inspection, said monstrosity turns out to be the nation's premier purveyor of rubbish videophones (which nobody else in the phone book owns thus rendering them utterly pointless) and Spongebob Squarepants portable cassette players.
Sir Alan Sugar, for it is He, continues, “Weddings are very, very big business”, he insists, and he should know. After all, he's made a fortune out of making digiboxes that cut the end off 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding' every time I try and tape it off Sky Movies 4. But thankfully, this week's task does not involve setting the video (a task far beyond Lucinda's reach as she still prefers to commit things to wax cylinder). Instead, the two teams have to man stalls at Birmingham NEC's National Weddings Show, where they must tempt hordes of hysterical bridezillas with meringue frocks, melting ice sculptures and teetering profiterole towers.
“The teams will be selling wedding dresses and romantic accessories”, the voiceover confirms, for the benefit of viewers in nursing homes up and down the country. Well, I can't think of any other reason why he has to keep telling us everything again, can you? Having said that, 'romantic accessories' sounds a lot to me like that other quaint British term, 'marital aids'. If that's the case, there's little wonder that the Beeb insisted on editing out the bit where Sugar started gesturing at a horrified Sara and queasy Helene with an array of objects that would make Lindsey Dawn Mackenzie's eyes water. Brrr.
Helene heads up Renaissance, and is joined in her quest to sell chocolate fountains by Alex, Michael and Sara. “I used to model in bridal shows, so I've got a bit of experience”, their Dear Leader reveals. Really, Helene? Are you sure you don't mean “bridle” as in “path”? Apparently not. “I've been involved in a lot of my friends' weddings”, she insists.
This is not a first for The Apprentice, of course. I seem to recall Katie Hopkins being somewhat entangled in other people's marriages.
Michael and Sara are promptly despatched to the studio of wedding dress designer Ian Stuart, whose glamorous, ruched affairs are straight from the pages of Harpers & Queen and cost begrudging father-in-laws-to-be for upwards of two and a half grand. “We feigned interest very well”, boasts Michael, once the meeting is over. “I can pretend I'm passionate about the most insignificant thing and pull it off with an effortless charm.” Effortless charm, excruciating smarm, it's all the same in business.
They then nip off to taste some cakes. “I've been on a cake course”, Sara smiles, fondly remembering those Home Economics lessons where she baked Victoria sponges under the weary eyes of the Leicestershire Fire Department. “It's a big part of the whole wedding thing”, she adds, insightfully. Ooh I hope I have Sara on my team when I get hitched! Otherwise I'll probably forget the favours, and the vegetarian option at the reception, and to propose to somebody in the first place. The woman's indispensable.
Meanwhile, Helene and Alex head to an outfit that sells brightly coloured wedding frocks for around £900. ”The brides want to be a celebrity”, insists the company rep, who then goes on to name-check coarse, pneumatic model Jordan and shrill, teak-faced divorcee Jodie Marsh as women every girl should look up to when choosing an outfit that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. (Readers who would like to recall a typical outfit of Jodie's can click here, before wishing they hadn't.)
The two of them also visit a company that specialises in personalised honeymoon beachwear and wedding night lingerie. “I think I'm quite hung up on this”, says Alex, fingering a pink thong with the words “Just Married!” scrawled in glitter pen on the gusset. The range also features flip-flops that imprint love hearts on the sand, nightshirts depicting Garfield in a wedding veil, and various other artefacts that match the cloying sentimentality of Hallmark cards with the fine tailoring you'd expect from clothing bought at Stacey Slater's market stall on EastEnders. Frankly, the addition of this tat to a honeymoon would dampen the wedding night ardour of the most most red-blooded man, and leave most brides wishing they'd brought along some other 'romantic accessories' instead. However, Helene is impressed. “Smaller items for £20 or £30 are going to be a lot easier to sell”, she says. “And that's how I think we're going to win this task.” She convinces her team members to bid for the tacky lingerie and the wedding frocks aimed at Ryman League WAGs. Chardonnay from Footballers' Wives – you have a lot to answer for.
While Lucinda (Alpha's team leader) and Lee busy themselves checking out wedding cakes that sell for £45 a slice, Claire and Raef trek around London hunting for frocks. “Every girl dreams of wedding dresses!” cries Claire, en route to Ian Stuart's studio. “I used to work in a designer clothes store”, she continues, neglecting to mention that the shop in question begins with “TK” and ends with “Maxx”. Stuart's creations impress confirmed bachelor Raef; however, he's less impressed by what's on offer at their next appointment. In a south London living room, he and Claire are shown a variety of dresses for larger brides. Claire remains positive. “Maybe I should get a boyfriend!” she sighs, while holding a ship's sail up to her midriff.
However, back in the car, Claire has a question. “Is it a bad partnership if we had cake and...”
“...A size 16 dress?” finishes Raef. “I think we need to remember that people in a size 16 to 32 dress are that size for a reason - they love cake.” Oh, come on, Raef, everybody loves cake. I love cake, you love cake. I bet Kelly Brook loves cake, and I can't quite picture her galumphing up the aisle in Demis Roussos's summer kaftan.
Their final appointment of the day is at BHS, where thriftier brides can purchase scratchy mix-and-match outfits for as little as £95. “That is my first choice”, says Claire, who plans to have her wedding reception in the function room of her local Wetherspoons. However, Raef disagrees. “The higher the risk, the higher the gain,” agrees Lucinda. Yet another of Claire's appalling about-turns ensues. “Let's go for Ian Stuart first option, and BHS second option”, she says, transparently planning to say “I told you so” in the boardroom when they fail to make any sales. I know your game love.
Unfortunately, both teams want to try their hands at flogging the lingerie with the wedding motifs and static crackle, but only one can do so. Lucinda manages to clinch the deal for Alpha by revealing that they'll be sold alongside the dresses of a multiple award-winning designer. A dismayed Helene is forced to make do with selling cakes instead.
The next day, 7000 bridezillas and members of their entourages descend upon the NEC, determined to make their wedding day the happiest of their lives. However, for members of teams Alpha and Renaissance, it'll be one of the most stressful.
Although Alex soon manages to offload some of Renaissance's less traditional garments, the only people interested in the cakes are sugar addicts who can't be arsed to queue up in the Starbucks yet do not wish to risk hypoglycaemic coma. Sara and Michael soon begin to panic, and start trying to dispense their wares as though they're bullets. “There's a very limited amount of cakes”, Michael shouts, sweat beads forming on his brow. “They're only available today and then THAT IS IT”, he continues, as though the only alternative to spending hundreds of pounds on some eggs, flour and sugar will be handing out Mr Kipling's Battenburg fingers to disappointed guests.
Sara, who has obviously never had a Saturday job in Gregg's, tries a different tactic. “The taste is the most important thing ladies!”, she shrieks, as she holds people's noses and pushes fistfuls of fondant icing into their mouths. She might as well forcing them to eat it at knifepoint. Needless to say, no orders are placed.
Team Alpha, meanwhile, is having an equally difficult time of it. Although people queue up to try on their selection of designer wedding dresses, nobody seems to want to buy one. “Raef was insistent on this high-end brand of wedding dress, without taking any notice of what the mass market would be”, Nick Hewer complains. “We're not in Knightsbridge,” he continues, “we're in Birmingham.” Yes, Nick, that's right. Because everybody in Britain's second-largest city wears hessian smocks and Tesco carrier bags on their feet, don't they? The place has a Selfridges, for god's sake. Call me a fool but I doubt its profit margins rest purely on the largesse of the canny scallies that cloned my credit card.
It's not all bad, though. Lee soon shifts over £300 of underwear, possibly by promising anybody after one last fling that he'll take them into the changing room later and rip it off with his teeth. Impressed by his technique, Lucinda puts him in charge of dress sales. Sure enough, towards the end of the day, customers begin to return to the stand and part from their hard-earned with gusto. Meanwhile, in the most surreal moment of this year's Apprentice so far, Raef dresses up as a teddy bear in a bid to direct potential customers towards the lingerie. I don't have to canvass my female friends on this. I'm already certain that nothing lights a woman's fire more than a posh-voiced Pudsey Bear trying to garrotte them with a pair of schoolgirl knickers. Phwoar, eh, girls? Girls?
After a day in Brum, it's back to the boardroom. And although Helene and Lucinda sit next to each other, both of them purse their lips and pointedly look in opposite directions, as if their noses are magnetically repelled. Which one of them will be first to give the other a smug look?
Yet again, all agree that Lucinda was a good team leader. “I really enjoyed working with her”, says Claire, whom you can guarantee will be first to get the knives out about their project manager should they have lost the task.
Big Grey Al then fixes his eyes upon Lee. “Do you feel you are now the foremost expert on...”
“...On how to sell a lady a thong?” Lee finishes. “Yes.” Margaret Mountford smiles in agreement. The footage of her placing an order obviously ended up on the cutting room floor too.
Although Renaissance managed to sell five dresses for £1925, they didn't make a crumb of profit on the wedding cakes. However, Team Alpha shifted three designer dresses at a cost of five grand, and they made another £647 on novelty pants. The team enjoy a group hug before being shunted off to something called an 'Energy Clinic', which seems to involve sitting around in bathrobes, drinking wheatgrass juice and listening to 'Orinoco Flow' by Enya on repeat. An afternoon in the boardroom now looks more appealing than some of the prizes, doesn't it?
Michael attempts to leap out of the firing line by saying that he wanted to sell the designer wedding dresses. However, the hawk-eyed Margaret refutes his assertion. “Can I quote what you said?” she asks. “'Not to everyone's tastes, quite niche, quite expensive'”, she pronounces, with a silent harrumph. And no, she hasn't finished with him yet. “There was quite a lot of feedback that people were being bludgeoned by Michael and Sara about buying cakes”, she sniffs. “You'd have been SCARED to buy a cake!” Margaret finishes, as Michael's eyes well up yet again and Sara's bottom lip begins to tremble.
Sugar then has a pop at Alex for having been in the boardroom six times. However, after Helene comes to his defence, Alex is sent back to the house. Sir Alan Sugar is faced with his most difficult decision yet – should he fire Helene for choosing a poor selection of products, Michael for having the sales technique of a panic buyer at a petrol station, or Sara for having the friendly customer service patter of one of the Cylons from Battlestar Galactica?
“Helene, this task was lost on the first day, and it's because you didn't recognise what this was about - the captive audience and the passionate customers that I provided“, Big Grey Al barks, having invited everybody who attended the NEC that day individually.
Sara also comes under fire. “For the past eight weeks there's been lots of suggestions that you don't do anything”, he begins. “Your arguments are always very confusing and you've alienated customers in this particular task.”
“Michael”, he continues, “I've got a list as long as my arm of your apologies. I don't know how much more I can listen to that nonsense.”
Poor old show from Sir Alan on the quips front this week, I must say.
Anyway, Sara is shown the door, and a nation shrugs. “I cannot work under a project manager telling me what to do”, she declares in the taxi, underlining why she probably shouldn't have been picked in the first place. Back to Network Q it is, Sara. See ya!
However, there's an extra moment of boardroom excitement when Sugar makes moves to fire Michael too. “I don't want to sound like I'm begging,” Michael begins, before doing exactly that for the amount of time it takes for Big Grey Al to realise that another double firing would mean making the series one whole episode shorter.
“Talk about a cat with nine lives”, the gargoyle sighs.
So, Sara's gone. I think the most appropriate way to describe her exit would be "meh". But do you think Michael should have gone too, or maybe Helene? Let me know by commenting below...
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21:47:00 o'clock BST
The Apprentice - Week 8
Sir Alan Sugar, for it is He, continues, “Weddings are very, very big business”, he insists, and he should know. After all, he's made a fortune out of making digiboxes that cut the end off 'My Big Fat Greek Wedding' every time I try and tape it off Sky Movies 4. But thankfully, this week's task does not involve setting the video (a task far beyond Lucinda's reach as she still prefers to commit things to wax cylinder). Instead, the two teams have to man stalls at Birmingham NEC's National Weddings Show, where they must tempt hordes of hysterical bridezillas with meringue frocks, melting ice sculptures and teetering profiterole towers.
“The teams will be selling wedding dresses and romantic accessories”, the voiceover confirms, for the benefit of viewers in nursing homes up and down the country. Well, I can't think of any other reason why he has to keep telling us everything again, can you? Having said that, 'romantic accessories' sounds a lot to me like that other quaint British term, 'marital aids'. If that's the case, there's little wonder that the Beeb insisted on editing out the bit where Sugar started gesturing at a horrified Sara and queasy Helene with an array of objects that would make Lindsey Dawn Mackenzie's eyes water. Brrr.
Helene heads up Renaissance, and is joined in her quest to sell chocolate fountains by Alex, Michael and Sara. “I used to model in bridal shows, so I've got a bit of experience”, their Dear Leader reveals. Really, Helene? Are you sure you don't mean “bridle” as in “path”? Apparently not. “I've been involved in a lot of my friends' weddings”, she insists.
This is not a first for The Apprentice, of course. I seem to recall Katie Hopkins being somewhat entangled in other people's marriages.
Michael and Sara are promptly despatched to the studio of wedding dress designer Ian Stuart, whose glamorous, ruched affairs are straight from the pages of Harpers & Queen and cost begrudging father-in-laws-to-be for upwards of two and a half grand. “We feigned interest very well”, boasts Michael, once the meeting is over. “I can pretend I'm passionate about the most insignificant thing and pull it off with an effortless charm.” Effortless charm, excruciating smarm, it's all the same in business.
They then nip off to taste some cakes. “I've been on a cake course”, Sara smiles, fondly remembering those Home Economics lessons where she baked Victoria sponges under the weary eyes of the Leicestershire Fire Department. “It's a big part of the whole wedding thing”, she adds, insightfully. Ooh I hope I have Sara on my team when I get hitched! Otherwise I'll probably forget the favours, and the vegetarian option at the reception, and to propose to somebody in the first place. The woman's indispensable.
Meanwhile, Helene and Alex head to an outfit that sells brightly coloured wedding frocks for around £900. ”The brides want to be a celebrity”, insists the company rep, who then goes on to name-check coarse, pneumatic model Jordan and shrill, teak-faced divorcee Jodie Marsh as women every girl should look up to when choosing an outfit that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. (Readers who would like to recall a typical outfit of Jodie's can click here, before wishing they hadn't.)
The two of them also visit a company that specialises in personalised honeymoon beachwear and wedding night lingerie. “I think I'm quite hung up on this”, says Alex, fingering a pink thong with the words “Just Married!” scrawled in glitter pen on the gusset. The range also features flip-flops that imprint love hearts on the sand, nightshirts depicting Garfield in a wedding veil, and various other artefacts that match the cloying sentimentality of Hallmark cards with the fine tailoring you'd expect from clothing bought at Stacey Slater's market stall on EastEnders. Frankly, the addition of this tat to a honeymoon would dampen the wedding night ardour of the most most red-blooded man, and leave most brides wishing they'd brought along some other 'romantic accessories' instead. However, Helene is impressed. “Smaller items for £20 or £30 are going to be a lot easier to sell”, she says. “And that's how I think we're going to win this task.” She convinces her team members to bid for the tacky lingerie and the wedding frocks aimed at Ryman League WAGs. Chardonnay from Footballers' Wives – you have a lot to answer for.
While Lucinda (Alpha's team leader) and Lee busy themselves checking out wedding cakes that sell for £45 a slice, Claire and Raef trek around London hunting for frocks. “Every girl dreams of wedding dresses!” cries Claire, en route to Ian Stuart's studio. “I used to work in a designer clothes store”, she continues, neglecting to mention that the shop in question begins with “TK” and ends with “Maxx”. Stuart's creations impress confirmed bachelor Raef; however, he's less impressed by what's on offer at their next appointment. In a south London living room, he and Claire are shown a variety of dresses for larger brides. Claire remains positive. “Maybe I should get a boyfriend!” she sighs, while holding a ship's sail up to her midriff.
However, back in the car, Claire has a question. “Is it a bad partnership if we had cake and...”
“...A size 16 dress?” finishes Raef. “I think we need to remember that people in a size 16 to 32 dress are that size for a reason - they love cake.” Oh, come on, Raef, everybody loves cake. I love cake, you love cake. I bet Kelly Brook loves cake, and I can't quite picture her galumphing up the aisle in Demis Roussos's summer kaftan.
Their final appointment of the day is at BHS, where thriftier brides can purchase scratchy mix-and-match outfits for as little as £95. “That is my first choice”, says Claire, who plans to have her wedding reception in the function room of her local Wetherspoons. However, Raef disagrees. “The higher the risk, the higher the gain,” agrees Lucinda. Yet another of Claire's appalling about-turns ensues. “Let's go for Ian Stuart first option, and BHS second option”, she says, transparently planning to say “I told you so” in the boardroom when they fail to make any sales. I know your game love.
Unfortunately, both teams want to try their hands at flogging the lingerie with the wedding motifs and static crackle, but only one can do so. Lucinda manages to clinch the deal for Alpha by revealing that they'll be sold alongside the dresses of a multiple award-winning designer. A dismayed Helene is forced to make do with selling cakes instead.
The next day, 7000 bridezillas and members of their entourages descend upon the NEC, determined to make their wedding day the happiest of their lives. However, for members of teams Alpha and Renaissance, it'll be one of the most stressful.
Although Alex soon manages to offload some of Renaissance's less traditional garments, the only people interested in the cakes are sugar addicts who can't be arsed to queue up in the Starbucks yet do not wish to risk hypoglycaemic coma. Sara and Michael soon begin to panic, and start trying to dispense their wares as though they're bullets. “There's a very limited amount of cakes”, Michael shouts, sweat beads forming on his brow. “They're only available today and then THAT IS IT”, he continues, as though the only alternative to spending hundreds of pounds on some eggs, flour and sugar will be handing out Mr Kipling's Battenburg fingers to disappointed guests.
Sara, who has obviously never had a Saturday job in Gregg's, tries a different tactic. “The taste is the most important thing ladies!”, she shrieks, as she holds people's noses and pushes fistfuls of fondant icing into their mouths. She might as well forcing them to eat it at knifepoint. Needless to say, no orders are placed.
Team Alpha, meanwhile, is having an equally difficult time of it. Although people queue up to try on their selection of designer wedding dresses, nobody seems to want to buy one. “Raef was insistent on this high-end brand of wedding dress, without taking any notice of what the mass market would be”, Nick Hewer complains. “We're not in Knightsbridge,” he continues, “we're in Birmingham.” Yes, Nick, that's right. Because everybody in Britain's second-largest city wears hessian smocks and Tesco carrier bags on their feet, don't they? The place has a Selfridges, for god's sake. Call me a fool but I doubt its profit margins rest purely on the largesse of the canny scallies that cloned my credit card.
It's not all bad, though. Lee soon shifts over £300 of underwear, possibly by promising anybody after one last fling that he'll take them into the changing room later and rip it off with his teeth. Impressed by his technique, Lucinda puts him in charge of dress sales. Sure enough, towards the end of the day, customers begin to return to the stand and part from their hard-earned with gusto. Meanwhile, in the most surreal moment of this year's Apprentice so far, Raef dresses up as a teddy bear in a bid to direct potential customers towards the lingerie. I don't have to canvass my female friends on this. I'm already certain that nothing lights a woman's fire more than a posh-voiced Pudsey Bear trying to garrotte them with a pair of schoolgirl knickers. Phwoar, eh, girls? Girls?
After a day in Brum, it's back to the boardroom. And although Helene and Lucinda sit next to each other, both of them purse their lips and pointedly look in opposite directions, as if their noses are magnetically repelled. Which one of them will be first to give the other a smug look?
Yet again, all agree that Lucinda was a good team leader. “I really enjoyed working with her”, says Claire, whom you can guarantee will be first to get the knives out about their project manager should they have lost the task.
Big Grey Al then fixes his eyes upon Lee. “Do you feel you are now the foremost expert on...”
“...On how to sell a lady a thong?” Lee finishes. “Yes.” Margaret Mountford smiles in agreement. The footage of her placing an order obviously ended up on the cutting room floor too.
Although Renaissance managed to sell five dresses for £1925, they didn't make a crumb of profit on the wedding cakes. However, Team Alpha shifted three designer dresses at a cost of five grand, and they made another £647 on novelty pants. The team enjoy a group hug before being shunted off to something called an 'Energy Clinic', which seems to involve sitting around in bathrobes, drinking wheatgrass juice and listening to 'Orinoco Flow' by Enya on repeat. An afternoon in the boardroom now looks more appealing than some of the prizes, doesn't it?
Michael attempts to leap out of the firing line by saying that he wanted to sell the designer wedding dresses. However, the hawk-eyed Margaret refutes his assertion. “Can I quote what you said?” she asks. “'Not to everyone's tastes, quite niche, quite expensive'”, she pronounces, with a silent harrumph. And no, she hasn't finished with him yet. “There was quite a lot of feedback that people were being bludgeoned by Michael and Sara about buying cakes”, she sniffs. “You'd have been SCARED to buy a cake!” Margaret finishes, as Michael's eyes well up yet again and Sara's bottom lip begins to tremble.
Sugar then has a pop at Alex for having been in the boardroom six times. However, after Helene comes to his defence, Alex is sent back to the house. Sir Alan Sugar is faced with his most difficult decision yet – should he fire Helene for choosing a poor selection of products, Michael for having the sales technique of a panic buyer at a petrol station, or Sara for having the friendly customer service patter of one of the Cylons from Battlestar Galactica?
“Helene, this task was lost on the first day, and it's because you didn't recognise what this was about - the captive audience and the passionate customers that I provided“, Big Grey Al barks, having invited everybody who attended the NEC that day individually.
Sara also comes under fire. “For the past eight weeks there's been lots of suggestions that you don't do anything”, he begins. “Your arguments are always very confusing and you've alienated customers in this particular task.”
“Michael”, he continues, “I've got a list as long as my arm of your apologies. I don't know how much more I can listen to that nonsense.”
Poor old show from Sir Alan on the quips front this week, I must say.
Anyway, Sara is shown the door, and a nation shrugs. “I cannot work under a project manager telling me what to do”, she declares in the taxi, underlining why she probably shouldn't have been picked in the first place. Back to Network Q it is, Sara. See ya!
However, there's an extra moment of boardroom excitement when Sugar makes moves to fire Michael too. “I don't want to sound like I'm begging,” Michael begins, before doing exactly that for the amount of time it takes for Big Grey Al to realise that another double firing would mean making the series one whole episode shorter.
“Talk about a cat with nine lives”, the gargoyle sighs.
So, Sara's gone. I think the most appropriate way to describe her exit would be "meh". But do you think Michael should have gone too, or maybe Helene? Let me know by commenting below...
Written by joejbbrett Blog about this entry |
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This entry has 38 comments: (Add your own)
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I will be extremely cautious should I be in the unlikely position of doing business with any of Sir Alan Sugar's companies based on his criteria for key staff selection as demonstrated on The Apprentice, especially the new one to be headed up by the lying and inarticulate Lee McQueen.
How could anyone believe what he was saying, even if they could understand it! -
Who the F??? Cares. What a waste of TV time. Alan Sugar is a PRAT and the contestants, well what a load of uninteresting people thinking that they are the best thing since sliced bread. Can't the TV Producers find anything better than this, even repeats of NODDY and BIGG EARS would be more exiciting. I would like my TV Licence back if the programmes don't get any better.
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Sorry Sir Alun, right up until the end you played it right, but at the final hour, you allowed yourself to be conned.
I always believed you cannot con a conman, and any businessman with your credentials knows all the cons. The lies should have warned you. You picked the wrong one. I know you won't let it have any effect as you will get rid of him. But you made a BooBoo.
Rees -
sad loney people
get a real life job like ur hero alan (sweet as crap sugar)
10/08/08 00:53