The Apprentice: Week Six
[SPOILER ALERT! Blah blah blah . . .]
At last. She’s gone. It was a close-run thing, in that it wasn’t clear until the final weigh-in which team had made the most commission selling used cars in Slough, and I had money, as it were, on Sharon’s shambolic team being kept behind. But thanks to shifting more Ribena-proof upholstery treatments, they pipped Ansell’s team by over a hundred quid and were sent down the Thames on a casino boat to stuff their faces and have a steaming, stand-up row over something Syed said to Michelle about what Paul had said about Sharon, I think. Meanwhile, Ansell dragged Jo and Samuel back in so that the world could breathe a huge sigh of relief that’s been building up like gas these past six weeks. Ding dong! Jo is dead! (“I’ll stay a good person,” she blubbed, inevitably, in the cab home, deluded to the end.)
We saw some sights along the way tonight. Ruth pulling one out of the hat and doing what can only be described as a damn good job. Syed getting a “bollocking”, which he called a “consultation” (remember that one) for what can only be described as lying to a customer while qualifying a potential sale. His family are originally from Bangladesh, by the way, and he worked his way up from nothing, you know. Jo “taking it on the chin” for leaving the word “SOLD” scrawled across the windscreen of a car that was “ACTUALLY NOT SOLD” for four hours. Seeing her actually chasing customers away with her brand of Coventry-accented hysteria. Sharon, the spiritual sackee, who knew nothing about cars, or, apparently, about when and when not to call someone away for an important meeting ie. when he’s actually seconds away from closing a deal.
Jo deserved to go. We have seen enough of that vacant, toothy, corpse-like grin, and heard enough of her yapping about being too much “competition” for the rest. Ruth has redeemed herself. Paul is sliding down in my estimation: too much testosterone, too much self-belief (“I will be the best”). Sir Alan was on top form, speaking sarcastically of the “Jo Fan Club” and, with regards to the MG Rover part of her CV, muttering, “No wonder they went bloody skint.”
The English language continued to take a pasting, with Michelle using the phrase, “As if magic,” and Jo storming in with, “Absolutely good.”
I’m fired up.