And so it begins. Lord Sugar has a new hench-woman and I already want to kill 4 of the candidates! There's a new house, a woman who looks like a friend of mine and so much male-back-slapping/girly-group-hugging that I wanted to high-five someone myself, sat at home! But there was one who just couldn't cut the (pork and) mustard (sausages) tonight...
Or, as he will be known from here onward, The C**t. A loud-mouthed, bullish, pinch-faced shout-monger who, despite being an ex-millionaire sales director, was a shit salesman and a terrible leader. The C**t yelled, pushed, arm-folded, huffed, puffed and blew himself out of the house and into that black cab before the end of just the second day.
The only reason I can think of for The C**t's to-attentionism and utter disregard for professional courtesy and understanding - (if he'd spoken to me like that in front of strangers in the street I'd have quietly taken him to one side and explained, politely, that I am not a cat and barking at me won't make my run faster) - the ONLY reason I can think of for his over-the-top, look-how-big-a-man-I-am 'juggernaution' is that he's got a dick like a bookie's biro.
That said, The Brand was a pain in the arse and I'm a little freaked out by that woman who looks a bit like Miriam Margoyles being sucked nose-first up an invisible vacuum cleaner - so it's clearly going to be another year of I LOVE HIM/I HATE HIM action from the best dichotomous reality show on Earth - (it's both full of childish wankers who can't be trusted to wash a fucking car and the people who actually have jobs in important areas of this country's economy - no wonder we're all going to the dogs) - Roll on next week.
My favourite? Oooooh! Too early to tell... Ask me again next time.
