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so ‘the apprentice’ returns to bbc tv perhaps for a series to far.

the candidates are the usual bunch of of up-themselves young gits and it’s a treat each year to watch them show the holes in their smug arses to an audience of millions, whilst speculating as to which will meet with most displeasure each week. obviously they deserve all the humiliation they get.

this week a baby-faced butty tycoon met his chicken marengo waterloo in the boardroom having, hilariously, failed at his own job. brilliant! extraordinary that even he could lose to an ‘award-winning restaurateur’ whose food i would not have offered to my pet pig. (alright; if i had one. don’t start)

but what’s this change i detect in the sucrose one? could it be that having exhausted his meagre repertoire of native ribaldry, some sap has been tasked to script gags for the business guru? is the great man, heaven forfend, scripting his own?

either way they ain’t working. sir al may have made a few quid but a stand-up, he ain’t.

take my advice, big-boy, “bang-bang and off”. ooh, missis, where’s me washboard?