The Apprentice Reopens For Business.

After months of waiting, and with a suitable amount of hype, the Apprentice has appeared back on British screens at last, as Lord Scowler Sugar (I wonder if he insists that his wife refer to him as Lord Sugar too?) begins the search for a new bootlicker.

Firstly let me diffuse a myth, The Apprentice is not a representation of real business in action. I’m pretty sure that anyone who claims that the Apprentice is a representation of real business practice probably still believes in the tooth fairy or Tiger Wood’s fidelity, as most people surely must have realised that real business it ain’t.

The candidates this year seem to be an even bigger collection of cocks, back stabbers and self important windbags, which is quite frankly fantastic. The most amusing thing is that quite a few are out of work, as the recession continues to ravage our economy (I know as well as anyone), which means they have less of a credible position to pontificate about how bloody great they are.

The task this week was to make sausages and sell them, which caused a lot of stumbling and bumbling as one might expect. The boys team managed to ruin their sausage mixture and reacted calmly by running around screaming at one another in the process. The girls were just as volatile as they squabbled over the name of the group – in the end settling with Apollo, because the NASA mission had the ethos that “failure is not an option” – and hissed at one another passive aggressively. Still, at the end of the day they sold the most and rightfully won the task, whilst the boys were left to meet with the craggy face of Lord Sugar in the boardroom.

Watching the boys prepare for their face to face meeting with the angry Lord Troll, seemed like something prior to the night of the long knives. In the end the shouty and dictatorial Dan of the boys team got the chop.

Here is a brief rundown of this year’s candidates:

Stuart Baggs: Ah, Stuart Baggs. Stuart Baggs “The Brand.” So far the only image his brand conjures up is that of naively bold statements spurting from the love child of James Cordon and Frodo Baggins.

Raleigh (pronounced rawley?) Addington: A well to do unemployed graduate, who looks as if he’s in his forties? He’s a bit of a wet fish really, as he accused the project managers actions in the first task of being “shameful” and looked as if he was about to start blubbing from the confrontation.

Stella English: Mrs Blend In.

Alex Epstein: What’s Alfred Molina doing on the Apprentice?

Joanna Riley: Nice but dim.

Dan Harris: Ball busting, blundering bastard. When he isn't shouting he's looking for someone to shout at. Thankfully was the first to be fired, despite the potential for being very entertaining.

Melissa Cohen: Horrible! Horrible! Horrible! The worst kind of sanctimonious, self interested, excuse for a businessperson as I have ever seen on the show. She’s about as agreeable as a punch in the face.

Jaime Lester: Very wishy-washy and very quick to point the finger when something goes wrong.

Paloma Vivicano: Seems a little airy fairy, but otherwise we have yet to see what she can do.

Sandeesh Samra: Who?

Dr Shibbi Robati: Now hang on? Why oh why would you give up a career as a surgeon to be Alan Sugar’s apprentice. I don’t know if anyone’s noticed but does Amstrad actually make anything anymore apart from Sky boxes (and shoddy ones at that)?

Chris Bates: Wins the accolade for being the least deluded thus far. Seems to be able to cut round the bullshit and pleased me no end when he called foul on the practice of running round aimlessly trying to sell things to local businesses. I’ve never understood why people keep trying to do this on the show, as if I ran a small business I wouldn’t even consider buying anything from a flurry of pushy salesmen that walked in off the street. Then again would you?

Joy Stefaniki: Bouncy. Too bouncy! It’s as if someone has plied her with Red Bull and Pro Plus before the task.

Christopher Farrell: Yet to show his colours.

Liz Locke: I think Britain’s Next Top Model is missing a pouty and vapid clothes horse.

Laura Moore: A potential emotional minefield. I’d say her composure is about as stable as Pete Docherty’s rehab program.