There are no sandwiches in this entry (I'm not even eating a home made sarnie as I type... Sorry)

The Apprentice Christmas Special – Could Sir Allen learn from the mistakes of others?

We all know and love The Apprentice for its sharp-tongued perception of the wheeler-dealer world of cut-throat business. The show underlines the importance of stabbing the hill farmers of Nepal in the back if it means a better profit margin for your business.

But if the whole concept of this popular television show is for the contestants to prove their business savvy, surely Sir Allen is missing a trick. Is remaining loyal to a publicly funded television channel proving his worth? Why hasn’t The Apprentice moved to Sky or ITV for bigger bucks?

So lets have a ‘The Apprentice – Christmas Special’ this festive season. But instead of idiotic or presumptuous wannabees vying for Sir Allen’s favour lets get the channels in to fight it out for the rights for the next series.

It surely would be compulsive viewing to watch the T.V Channels build their business cases. Lets watch each production company break down the show and exploit every aspect of Sir Allen’s programme. Lets witness the tug-o-war tactics and arm wrestling in the boardroom as each channel attempts to lure the show to a new home.

I am sure Sky One would be up for it, as would ITV. Channel Four must fancy their chances too. The BBC would be obliged to turn up and let us throw in some outsiders like Bravo and Five for good measure.

The Christmas Special would follow each Channel as they weaved their ideas into something presentable. We can witness the channels snarling at each other, stabbing each other in the backs to steal good ideas. Add a little edited tension and a little Prokofiev and we have a winning formula, ladies and gentlemen. Of course audiences would expect, indeed demand, the show to be topped off with Sir Allen barking his displeasure in the boardroom. “What do you mean strippers? Bravo… YOU’RE FIRED!”

The BBC would obviously suggest a continuation of the brand based on loyalty and the fact they have never failed Sir Allen before. Quality would be their main selling point with promises to never cheapen the product. Graham Norton could click away at the BBC slideshow and glare coldly at Sir Allen if asked an awkward question.

Ant and Dec could be the face of the ITV pitch. Revenue from advertisement sales would surely get the taste buds-a-tingling. Britain’s Got Talent and I’m A Celebrity could be used as examples of ITV’s pedigree in reality television (?!?). A pre-signed contract would confirm that The Association of Nepalese Hill Farmers will sponsor the show so proving ITV are a channel of the people. ITV could also offer a second production (called The Apprentice: Fire and Forget) to be aired on ITV2 just before Katie and Peter: The Next Chapter.

Sky One would just offer a ludicrous amount of money for Sir Allen to up and move across to the champions of digi-tele. Andy Grey could make an entire presentation based on his wage salary and insist he can wangle a guest appearance on Soccer A.M for Sir Allen with the promise nobody would mention Tottenham Hotspur... Advertising figures would be marginally higher than ITV because Sky One would plan for five minute ad breaks for every ten minutes of television.

Bravo and Five could make a joint bid where they pitch an idea for a format change. Each week (under the proposed new format) the contestants would have to find the weirdest, most dysfunctional family in Great Britain and exploit them in the cheapest way possible. Either that or document the deviant lives of the British gentry. There would be a guaranteed breast count per episode and Sir Allen would get new fire-monkeys appropriately named Trixy Le Blow and Fifi Wanny-Wanny.

Channel Four would insist integrity would be a priority in their new version of the show. Peter Snow could host, with a live Big Brother-esque eviction every Friday night. The ‘new’ Apprentice would be a gritty fly on the wall documentary, a subtle blend of Big Brother, Despatches and Shameless. Each episode would guarantee a high use of profanities and at least two shots of men kissing.

Sir Allen could sneer contemptuously as each channel presents its case, firing each one as he sees fit. It would be a guaranteed audience puller and perhaps one final swansong for the BBC. 

We would all watch like an audience in ancient Rome baying for blood at the coliseum. And when we have been all whipped into a frenzy of blood lust and hysteria Sky could win.

Which would be ironic because then, despite the big money offer, audience numbers would plummet and the show would be cancelled, only to be re-launched in about five years time by Bravo… or Five.

They Say Bad Luck Comes in Threes

It is a definite exaggeration when I say that this week has been a little bit of a nightmare… Oh… My… GOD!!!

My original plan was to review a sandwich from one of those lovely supermarkets. Don’t worry, I am not going to insist we all stop using these industries of totalitarianism. I admit it would be brilliant if everyone stopped using the big supermarket companies and we all started buying our meat from a family run butcher and grew all our own tomatoes, cucumbers and basil. It’s a nice idea but lets be honest the only people who can really consider this a possibility are those who traded their common sense in for loads of spare time, land and money.

So, as I was saying, I was going to review a sandwich purchased from a supermarket and then I was told I may be made redundant. So, in trying to keep within the context of mirroring my life through sarnies, I thought maybe I could review the cheapest sandwich I could find in a supermarket and joke about the fact that this is probably the only bought sandwich I will soon be able to afford.

That seemed like a plan but then thought I could review a drive through restaurant (MacDonalds, Burger King and KFC all support this form of sandwich purchasing in the Swindon area). I did get a little excited about this because I do love a burger…

Then some twat stole the car…

That’s Ok, I hear you all shout, use your bike… Well I would but on the same day the car was stolen I was knocked from my motorbike on Swindon’s infamous Magic Round-a-bout.

And now… well not even a foot long BMT on Italian herb bread with olives, lettuce and mayonnaise would get me out of this all-I-want-to-do-is-feel-sorry-for-myself rut. My bike is totalled, my pride has been knocked and I have finally come to the conclusion that all my ranting about the fact there is no god has p!$$ed him off so much he is now getting his own back.

For those of you who do not know the Magic Round-a-bout please take a quick look on Google (here). The road system I describe is one large round-a-bout in the middle of five mini round-a-bouts. A series of lanes and confusion greets even the most confident road user the first time they stumble onto this icon of local traffic management.

My body aches from being launched into the air and landing on my back in the middle of the road. My lucky stars have well and truly been counted, recounted and then counted again just to make sure. I still do not know how I walked away from the incident.

The car has gone, my bike is going, my job is in risk of going the same way. You couldn’t make this stuff up and if you did nobody would believe you. I feel like I’ve dropped a Marks and Spencer Crayfish and Rocket and picked up a Tesco Value Egg Mayonnaise.