The magic of television
What have I learned so far from watching the latest series of the Apprentice ?
Well, for starters don’t be a project manager, because if you lose, you’ll get the sack. Managers would seem to have all the authority, but if you’re loud enough (Philip) and mardy enough (Philip again) you can effectively sabotage the project manager into making frankly ridiculously stupid decisions safe in the knowledge that it’s their head on the block. Calling your product ‘pants’ is a stroke of utter genius if you’re selling pants, completely f***ing suicidal if it’s anything else.
I don’t like Philip, he’s a loud mouthed knob who clearly fancies himself too much. “Business is the new rock 'n' roll and I'm Elvis Presley” he claims on the BBC website. No it’s not, you pillock, business is going down the swanny and you’re an over-bearing tosser. Hope that clears it up for you. But it’s ok, he isn’t going to win anyway. I’ve got a feeling that SirAlan has already pretty much decided on who are his favourite two or three (Debra, Kate, Yasmina) and will keep them in regardless. Everyone else who makes good television but is clearly unemployable, for example Philip, the mental James, deluded Ben or Lorraine, the second most miserable person on the planet, gets kept in purely to make good television and to make the eventual winner look semi-decent in comparison, instead of the over-hyped preening wannabee they clearly are.
Howard is a toady little arse of a man, the kind of kid you felt sorry for at school when he got bullied, tried to make friends with, then within five minutes got an understanding of where the bullies were coming from. “If I don't go far down this route I shall go far down another route.” Really ? Can I suggest a short pier.
Two candidates who I’d completely forgotten about until they popped up like a long forgotten cold sore were the utterly incompetent Noorul and the completely invisible Mona. Noorul dressed up as ‘Pants man’, a role he’s undertaken pretty much every week so far, while I’d completely forgotten Mona even existed until she stood up to explain to everyone else they couldn’t be the super-hero they’d need to aspire to be to buy the product. Genius.
But there’s one thing that I don’t understand, one thing that is starting to bug me about the whole thing. Every week is the same, the phone rings, someone in quite frankly childish underwear answers the phone, SirAlan’s secretary (minimum wage, has to be at work at 6:30 in the morning) tells them that they need to be on the other side of London in half an hour and poof, as if by magic a dozen sleepy singletons are transformed into sleek over-preened designer clothes hangers in less time than it takes me to have a dump in the morning.
The magic of television ? The b******s of television more like.
Well, for starters don’t be a project manager, because if you lose, you’ll get the sack. Managers would seem to have all the authority, but if you’re loud enough (Philip) and mardy enough (Philip again) you can effectively sabotage the project manager into making frankly ridiculously stupid decisions safe in the knowledge that it’s their head on the block. Calling your product ‘pants’ is a stroke of utter genius if you’re selling pants, completely f***ing suicidal if it’s anything else.
I don’t like Philip, he’s a loud mouthed knob who clearly fancies himself too much. “Business is the new rock 'n' roll and I'm Elvis Presley” he claims on the BBC website. No it’s not, you pillock, business is going down the swanny and you’re an over-bearing tosser. Hope that clears it up for you. But it’s ok, he isn’t going to win anyway. I’ve got a feeling that SirAlan has already pretty much decided on who are his favourite two or three (Debra, Kate, Yasmina) and will keep them in regardless. Everyone else who makes good television but is clearly unemployable, for example Philip, the mental James, deluded Ben or Lorraine, the second most miserable person on the planet, gets kept in purely to make good television and to make the eventual winner look semi-decent in comparison, instead of the over-hyped preening wannabee they clearly are.
Howard is a toady little arse of a man, the kind of kid you felt sorry for at school when he got bullied, tried to make friends with, then within five minutes got an understanding of where the bullies were coming from. “If I don't go far down this route I shall go far down another route.” Really ? Can I suggest a short pier.
Two candidates who I’d completely forgotten about until they popped up like a long forgotten cold sore were the utterly incompetent Noorul and the completely invisible Mona. Noorul dressed up as ‘Pants man’, a role he’s undertaken pretty much every week so far, while I’d completely forgotten Mona even existed until she stood up to explain to everyone else they couldn’t be the super-hero they’d need to aspire to be to buy the product. Genius.
But there’s one thing that I don’t understand, one thing that is starting to bug me about the whole thing. Every week is the same, the phone rings, someone in quite frankly childish underwear answers the phone, SirAlan’s secretary (minimum wage, has to be at work at 6:30 in the morning) tells them that they need to be on the other side of London in half an hour and poof, as if by magic a dozen sleepy singletons are transformed into sleek over-preened designer clothes hangers in less time than it takes me to have a dump in the morning.
The magic of television ? The b******s of television more like.
posted by Lucky Col at
4:26 PM
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