This week, the teams (I use this term loosely, as they all appear to loathe one another) were summoned to the Southbank Tower. “Arve told previous team to sell all forts of fings,” said Siralanlordsugar. “Coffee. Erm, flowers….” there was a long pause as he tried to remember what else. Nope, nothing. Move on, Al, you’re losing your audience. “But viss time…feh priciest product around: property.” Abramovich’s yacht broker may beg to differ.
On Twitter, Alansugarlordsir had brought his customary witty wordplay to proceedings:
The tiny noble had found two developers in London about to launch a range of luxury apartments (revolutionary thinking, guys; really, well done) and the teams had to pitch themselves as sales executives to represent them, the team making the most in commission being declared the winner. Given that these chumps couldn’t sell Simon Cowell a teeth whitening kit, it was always going to be interesting watching them try to sell Thames-side penthouses to some of London’s “most discerning buyers”.
Joseph, aka Gomez Addams, lead one team, Richard led the other. Each team met Developer Number One who was called, if I recall correctly, Harry Hardhat Stan. He was “passionate” about his property. Joseph was less bothered with such detail and wanted the skinny on how much money he would trouser. “What are the prices? We’ve got to make a lot of commission.” Hovering in the background, Claude made a face like a man who has a crushing hangover and just discovered his cat has vomited by virtue of getting out of bed and planting his bare foot in it.
Pitch blah blah decisions etc. Scott and Brett had their property selling patter prepared. “These are the walls.” Vana and Richard looked round a Canary Wharf show flat. Vana knew she could sell it, no problem, because “I like Canary Wharf.” It’s not often I feel sorry for Lordsirsugaralan but seriously. These people?
Charleine sold a flat for £350,000. Her complicated hair-do filled with triumphant static. “You could buy a whole street in Wales for that price!” she squeaked excitedly. You could practically hear the Cardiff property market plummet.
Superior Selina tried to sell a flat to a clued-up buyer. “It is quite expensive.” “What’s the average price per square foot of property in Stratford?” “Um…” The buyer looked at her with thinly-veiled amusement mixed with contempt. Selina nimbly shifted the blame for her ignorance onto Gomez Addams. “Joseph didn’t ask the developer the right questions.”
Meanwhile in Lewisham, Gary was busy waxing lyrical with the kind of poetic linguistics only an Apprentice candidate can come up with. Apparently some people like looking at “the greenery”, some people like looking to the “city” and some people like looking at “Lewisham”. He was practically Oscar Wilde.
Over on Twitter, Sugarlordalan might have revealed who WON’T be his business partner.
Just as an aside, I assumed, since the chumps were selling property, that there wouldn’t be the usual running around the streets selling their wares trying to make a few quid at the last minute. How wrong can a girl be? 90 minutes trading left and they were OUT ON THE STREET trying to sell flats. “My husband’s going to kill me,” laughed a woman, who promptly spunked several thousand grand on one. Imagine the dinner conversation that night. “Do much today, darling?” “I just popped into Waitrose and picked up some mangos and a couple of Advent Calendars for the kids.” “Lovely.” “Oh, and a flat.” “A…. what the fu…….?”
Anyway, the ghastly Selina lost and Richard and Vana et al won and went off to try out a speedboat, but before they left, Sugarlordalansir had a word of warning for one candidate. “Scott, Karren has warned me abaht you. You’re a lucky man to be still in feh process.” Scott promptly fired himself. “I’d like to resign.” In a dog-eat-dog process, this dog ate himself. It was a kindness.
In the Cafe of Doom, Selina and Charleine exchanged insults. “Let me speak. Let me speak! LET ME SPEAK!” Joseph’s moustache quivered with fright. They drooped into the boardroom. “Joseff, yous a bull in a china shop,” announced Alanlordsugarsir. Joseph looked puzzled. “In what sense?”
Selina went for Joseph’s jugular. “I get negative feedback because I’m too pushy and take the lead.” No shit. “You weren’t the kind of person who can lead.” Everyone turned on Selina, and about time in my opinion. Selina rose above it all. “I pride myself in getting on with people.” Joseph cleverly brought Selina and Gary back in the boardroom with him so that he and Gary could gang up on her, and Charleine breathed a sight of relief.
Joseph’s audition tape came back to haunt him. “Arm the godfarver of bizniss.” Sugaralansirlord was unimpressed. “You’re not.” “But arm 26 years old!” “Ar don’t care, arm not ear to babysit.”
Selina got the boot and looked furious. “Pfft. Okay,” she spat. Well, I did ask them to come up with something different.