Well this is unusual. The advertising task in Week Two, which this year involved devising a marketing campaign for jeans. Hey, that’s cool, Apprentice dudes, nobody’s ever done that before!
Anybody remember who got fired last week? No, me neither.
Blah blah recap, blah blah holding phones horizontally the way nobody in the history of mobile phones has ever held them blah blah. Taxis, please be quiet, you is not the kind of person ah want to go inta bizniss wiv, blah blah.
The telephone rang, at OHMIGODWHATTIMEISIT, and despite having only minutes to get ready, ironing/hair straightening/admiring the view took place. The numpties were summoned to – er, not sure, somewhere that used to be a textile factory and is now a “renowned fashion school”, and told to come up with an advertising campaign for Japanese denim. “One of yoo will be ‘ung outa dry.” Oh haha, Sirsugarlordalan. Very droll.
Big K (twat) waffled on about not wanting to pluck his monobrow because he didn’t want to be like everyone else. Whevs, K. One of the girls announced she had a fashion plan. What’s that? The girls couldn’t decide on a project manager. “How many for Rebecca?” Rebecca held up her own hand. “You can’t vote for yourself.” “Oh.” JEEZ.
Jessica was PM (that’s project manager to you, not the prime minister. Although I can easily imagine Theresa May in this scenario). The girls did a quick focus group on the street. “What makes you choose a particular brand of jeans?” Her respondent replied as though speaking to a very slow, very small toddler. “The fit. And the fabric.” The boys wasted time stopping blokes to question them, and then telling them they were too old to know anything about jeans. Well done, boys.
Everyone started blabbing on about straplines. “Claim your fit.” “Wozza strapline?” “The thing that sits alongside the branding.” Man, this was already shaping up to be a doozy. Dillon, he of the mascara to emphasise his eyelashes, was, if I have got this right, art director. He declared he couldn’t be interrupted during his thought processes. Everyone in his team gave him the side eye. Their brand was Day After Yesterday Denim. What does that even mean? The girls chose something that I think was both Unclaimed (eh?), and Claim Your Fit, which frankly would have worked a lot better with an apostrophe. Jessica had a panic attack, which amused everyone (nice), and went outside to recover whilst her team took the opportunity to conspire against and say loudly how unreliable she was. They also seemed to have mislaid their jeans. Cracking start.
Mukai tried to call his artistic director who was busy auditioning hot models for the advert. The girls blabbed on about “share your image” and directed a photoshoot with genius suggestions such as “do a fake laugh”. It was all kinds of mess, like trying to make mayonnaise using egg whites instead of yolks. At this rate the whole lot of them were going to get fired and Sugarlordsiralan would spent the rest of the series having botox injections in the fruitless pursuit of looking less like a disgruntled Shar Pei. Jessica declared that today had been not at all smokin’ (quote) and that tomorrow she would be better. She missed out that to achieve this she would be an entirely different person with a working brain and a few ideas. The rest of her team had a hugely enjoyable session bitching about how hopeless she was. “She just lost it!” “Yeah.” As far as Jessica is concerned, the sisterhood is dead.
The next day dawned – the day of filming their ads. The girls were on point. “You need more lipstick.” YEAH GURL. They filmed in a toilet, to the sound track of Taylor Swift’s “Shake it off” which was, frankly, an unfortunate choice. Over in Brixton, Dillon gave directorial instructions to a skateboarder. “When you fall, can you take off your sunglasses?” Special K , behaving like Donald Trump at a Miss Universe pageant, suggested he remove his own shirt because he was so hot. Everyone shuffled their feet in an embarrassed fashion and pretended they hadn’t heard him.
The pitching. Speaking as a pitching expert (modest) they were all crap. The boys in particular were appalling. “I’ll now hand you over to…. thanks, Big Guy…. creative juices…. yeah, love it…. sorry if I’m going a bit quick.” There was a terrible bit where DAY denim or whatever they called it, launched into their presentation and Mukai, barely one word in, said: “I’ve completely fucked it.” Yes, he actually said that. It is only fair to say the girls were no better.
Alansirlordsugar listened intently on a corded phone (get with the 21st century, Daddio) as the advertising experts slagged off both teams. Everyone declared everyone else to be an idiot. “Did you all go orf talking too much abaht the jeans bean Japanese?” enquired Sirsugarlordalan. “Wotissit? You wait hours for a terrible bus advertisement and then two come along at once!” It was hard to disagree with him, and he was properly angry about the dross he was presented with. “Arm not putting ma name to EYE VERR OF VEESE ADVERTS!” he yelled. “Viss is ma favritt tarsk! GIT OUTTA HERE!”
Both project managers were sent out and told to chose two people each to accompany them back into the boardroom. The Cafe of Despair was full to bursting as both teams told each other they were crap.
“Arm bitterly disappointed,” declared Alansugarlordsir. Mukai brought back JD (who? Does he have a sports clothing company?) and Special K. Jessica brought back Alana and Natalia (no, me neither). The boys started arguing almost immediately. Special K’s monobrow disappeared into his hairline as he criticised JD. Mukai’s bow tie drooped with disappointment.
The girls fared no better. “On Day One, arr lost ma head,” explained Jessica. “But on Day Two, arr found it. Natalie could’ve done more, but she just got on with the job I gave her.” WTF? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do, ie your job? “Oooh, arrve lost ma train of fought,” flustered Jessica, who had mysteriously turned into Sue Pollard.
Natalie waffled on about not letting anybody down and doing 100 hours a week with passion but Alansugarlordsir was unimpressed and gave her the boot. “Thank you, Lord Sugar.”
JD was given the benefit of the doubt and was allowed to stay. Special K was declared to be a loose cannon but also allowed to say. His monobrow looked grateful. Anymore to be fired? Nope.
Next week, manufacturing and selling their own sweets.