(Note from Hazel: I missed the first 40 minutes of tonight’s episode so, in keeping with the romantic theme, I left it in the capable hands of my better (and swearier) half to blog the show. He appears to have given contestants his own names so will try to clarify where necessary. Over to Paul then. )

 

As the missus is off doing some poncy Shakespeare rehearsal for ‘The Merry Wives of My Bellend’ or ‘Much Ado About A Big Pile of Shit’ or something equally rhyming-couplet related it’s up to me to pen this week’s Apprentice blog on her behalf. I don’t know – bloody actors – mincing about in crinoline talking a load of old nonsense, and not a car chase or a tank in sight. Bastards!

Anyway, as I couldn’t give a monkey’s left ballbag for the drivelling cunt faced twat bastards which ooze onto the show – least of all that monkey faced cock forehead Alan Fucking Sugar – I’m not going to be too good at getting their names right, so henceforth I’ll have to refer to them in the main by their stereotypes – i.e. Posh Boy (Jason) is that posh twat who everyone loves because he’s so fucking incompetent he should be running the fucking economy (note the similarity in fecklessness between Posh Boy and Osborne – with the difference being that Osborne should be hung from the nearest yard arm and thrashed soundly until he stops liking it), and Essex Girl (Luisa) is that woman with the high whiny voice and the orange face who spends her time whinging away like a total git – come to think of it that’s everyone on the Apprentice. Anyway, you’ll get the drift of it.

But first of all we get the usual 5 minutes of bumbling time filling shite as Voice Over Man tells us a bunch of grasping, ulcerous wannabes are willing to crawl up Suger’s crusty old clagnut ridden behind to get a slice of his readies, tickling his balls along the way if necessary. It’s a load of old time filler and I’m already feeling suicidal and the fucking pre-amble hasn’t even finished yet. What with this load of old monkey’s cock cheese and Big Brother bum-touching it”s way into the nation’s mind it’s no surprise we’re a colony of drooling fuck nuggets!

Anyway, after the delightful sight of watching a bunch of tousle haired cheeky munchkins scrabbling around for the phone as they are ordered to the firing squad of Suger’s business sense we get to the meat and bones of the situation. Team Wankbiscuit (Endeavour) and Team Arsebadger (Evolve) have to coalesce their tiny imaginations into creating a new online dating concept and shagging an advertising campaign into existence. Of course, at this point it would be far too fucking easy to make some snide, ill-judged comment about creating a dating agency for feckless shit buckets who spend their spare time shoving money up their marmite motorways and rubbing pound coins over their nipples and going, “Oooh, Blimey, that’s nice” but I won’t. I’m far too lovely for that.

Old Marylebone Town Hall is the setting for the execution of good taste and common sense this year as Jordan is moved over to Shitdeavour, whoever those grinning arseholes are. Speccy Northerner (Neil?) says he’s never done online dating, probably as sex with farmyard animals is illegal. Welsh Dracula (Alex) BANGS ON ABOUT ALL THE different sexual types there are, before we segue nicely into an advertising agency called Kamarama, which is massively shit, cunty, fucknobbed and shitbiscuit.

Posh Boy becomes project manager as he’s managed his cock in the toilet before, and Welsh Dracula and Jordan Speccy Twat both fight for the right to be Top Twat. Welsh Dracula is poo-poo’d for being mental and so Jordon Speecy Twat is next up on the executioners block. There;s some motivational bollocks with Welsh Dracula who comes up with Fifty Shades of Work as a name. What a cunt.

Team Whatever – the other one -chat about passion and vigour and marketing a site to old fogies who need splints for their Herman Gelmets and clamps for their fannies, and Paddick (Myles) runs about snapping pics with that blonde tart with various suitors who all look a bit dim and infected with something nasty in the genital region to me.

Essex Girl is on website duties and says an object is ‘so cringe ‘ which immediately means she must die. They get vox pops for ideas from blokes in pubs and no one mentions the site should cater to men who like birds with big knockers and no morals.

Speccy Jordan suddenly becomes a woman for 5 seconds and talks of himself as ‘sexually liberated’ and Welsh Dracula says all women like men in a suit. Basically he’s looking for a quick shag. Posh Boys team have taken the vox pops to heart and opt for a sickly sweet dating site for the over 50s.

Cuff Links is the Speccy Jordon’s name for the website, and the Irish Doctor Sex (Leah) opines it’s a bit old fashioned, and she prefers men wearing a posing pouch shaped like an elephants head. Well, she doesn’t actually.

Posh Boy flaps over the website and pisses Essex Girl off and comes up with some really over the top ideas for colour scheme – spending 45 mins fucking around with the colour scheme, and they leave bickering like an old couple – I sense the stench of yuppies and their mating rituals here.

Cuff Links website looks like it’s been designed to showcase computer systems – bland as a load of old cock monkeys shiny bellends.

Posh Boy faffs again and delegates to Essex Girl, spending his entire time looking perpetually confused.

Brian Paddick Man has the idea for the advert being about some dick not having a good date, and Speccy Jordan options the idea of ‘getting an ugly actor’ for the role.

Back to Posh Boy and he’s all over the fucking shop. Northern Man is somewhat flummoxed by the lack of a finished website, and Essex Girl sticks the knife into Posh Boy, doing a vote to get him usurped and putting herself forward and they swap to Essex Girl as the Head Git.

It’s advert time!! Essex Girl and Posh Boy are in the advertising agency (obviously populated by streaming cocks, but that isn’t pushed forward in the edit, unfortunately) where Posh Boy basically nods and bangs his head against a mirror like a sad orphaned budgie.

Welsh Man tries acting and looks like death warmed up. Hard Faced Blonde Tart (Francesca) goes all Scorsese on everyone’s bottoms whilst the other team yank on a couple of old coffin dodgers in front of the camera and the filming goes lovely and everyone’s happy. Cuff Links shoot is turning into a freaking nightmare as Welsh Dracula tries to take over and Irish Doctor Sex tries hard not to belt him in the cock end.

Nick Hewitt does not approve, probably due to the lack of foxy boxing.

The shots of Welsh Dracula are fucking hilarious, and make up for 7 weeks of toe curling shite. Some boring old toss in the editing room fills out a few more seconds as Essex Girl drivels on and makes me claw my own ears off rather than hear her fucking Sloany old crap.

Northern Neil says he wants to do the pitch, and Essex Girl is taking no shit from his honky ass. The Cuff Links ad is fucking hilarious in all the worst possible ways as Welsh Dracula embarrasses the human race by trying to act a bit, and Paddick shits a brick as Irish Doctor Sex looks stunned that her masterpiece is denigrated by plebs.

Essex Girl pitches to a bunch of massive wankers (no evidence for this but they must be as they’re all corporate types,) The over 50s advert is dull and staid and makes everyone laugh as there are old people on the screen and they’ll die soon whereas they’re all young, you hear me, YOUNG!! Understandably it gets a right fucking drubbing from the massive cunts, but it’s really like watching a bun fight in a wanker factory – utterly pointless.

Cuff Links next and Paddick tries not to bite his own cock off in shame as he introduces the advert, which is a comedy spectacular. Welsh Dracula justifies the name as it reminds scrotes of business types and some bloke says the advert doesn’t fit the corporate image and blah blah blah, who gives a fuck – they’re advertising types and they should be forced to spend a few years… I don’t know – doing something worthwhile with their pointless empty lives, the massive greasy old todgers!

The board room – Jordan smarms and Karren Brady points out no one voted for Welsh Dracula as he probably smelled of old tramps wee. They fill more time by showing the fucking adverts AGAIN and Sugar initially approves and then it’s on to the website. He points out the obvious disparity between the shit video and the corporate website and wobbles his bollocky chins a bit. They all like Spekky Jordon as project manager but Karren Brady and Lord Bollockface poo poo him and call him a cunt, spilling his pint, and he runs off and cries like a big girl. Or not.

Posh Boy admits to not being any good and tries to make it out that he delegated to Essex Girl to take over as project manger before Nick Hewitt jumps in and says they hounded the poor old big eyed orphaned puppy into handing over the reins to her.

The website gets a bollocking and Lord Bollockface points out it looks like a funeral business website. Advert on fucking AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!! and I’m trying hard not to skull fuck the screen into oblivion and descend into my own private hell.

Crunch time – the advisors Sugar bribed to watch the shit videos hate almost everything, but the over 50s one gets a massive kick in the knackers, and thus Cuff Links win and start touching each others genitals.

Fish poo for the winners in the shape of caviar, and for the losers the Tea Shop of Shame.

Sugar points out they didn’t touch the grey dollar and Posh Boy blames the bad market research rather than his own bumbling way of tripping over all common sense in his quest to be a bit dozy. He has a mild go at Essex Girl and does a little bit of savaging of her attitude, but it really is like he’s a big toothless puppy gumming a teddy bear.

Essex Girl and Posh Boy plump for bringing back Francesa and she rightly givers them a collective genital mauling as Hewitt admits she did alright and he likes her knockers.

And we’re back in the room.

Posh Boy blames Francesca for the video being cack and for fucking up with the focus group and it’s basically pissing against the wind of his own fate. Essex Girl defends Francesca and opts for kicking Posh Boys arse. Posh Boy says he’s a thinker when the complete opposite is quite obviously true.

Sugar finally delivers his ‘you shut up – and you shut up’ the programme’s been trailing since day one and Posh Boy gets to deliver his plea for clemency as he admits to taking the ‘courageous’ decision for the unity of the team – basically admitting he was utter cack only to be promptly brow beaten by bloody Essex Girl once more.

Crunch time. And Posh Boy gets the boot for being too nice and too academic and the puppy walks off a million grannies’ hearts break. Back in the boardroom they all agree Essex Girl is a nut crunching bitch and needs tanking down a peg or two.

Next week they have to come up with a ready meal, and the missus will tell you I lived on these for the last 30 years, so I’m looking forward to this. Although it won’t be quite as fluffy without Posh Boy. Altogether now – ‘aaaaaaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwwww’.

 

(It’s Hazel again. Well that was different wasn’t it? Without my favourite fey posh boy who so nobly sacrificed himself to stop the women and children drowning (and to spare Luisa’s family from listening to her voice for another week at least), it’s hard to find anyone to like, but here’s my summing up of the remaining runners and riders:

 

Liking: Jordan (at a push, especially his “feminine side”)
Warming to but not yet having the love for:
Myles
Finding Amusing: Alex
A bit bored by: Francesca
Disliking:- Leah, Luisa
Back to hating: Neil, Luisa
Bye, Bye: Jaz, Tim, Sophie, Uzma, Zee, Rebecca, Kurt, Natalie, Lovely Jason and his Teddy Bear