The Apprentice…

I thought I’d weaned myself off this show. I honestly did.

I’d seen the preview adverts and not worried it was on its way back. And not even the thought of missing panto villain Alan Sugar telling besuited halfwits they were total fuck-ups with no value was luring me near BBC1 come Wednesday night at 9pm.

Hell, I even missed the first episode and my heart didn’t murmur a jot. Not one.

But then I caught the repeat of episode two when I was making tea last week – and there I suddenly was gorging myself on Sugar and his business mogul wannabes like some Viagra-fuelled sex addict who’d gone without a jump in ages.

So come episode three and I’m back in Apprentice land, a place where management-speak-spouting buffoons draw pie charts and discuss strategy for simple tasks like selling cups of coffee, a place where people pretend to like each other then stab each other in the back at any given opportunity.

And the ringmaster of this freakshow is Alan Sugar, a poor man’s Donald Trump (and that’s poor in terms of charisma, class and prescence – not cash) who still hasn’t worked out that the only place he’d ever be taken seriously is on a telly show populated by idiots who want to be just like him.

It’s wicked, it’s cruel, it’s car-crash telly – and it remains utterly watchable if only to see which one of the new intake will actually win.

So here’s my current list of runners and riders:

Tre: Bizarre facial hair and inflated ego aside, he is the most entertaining thing on the show. He swears, he gets stroppy and he’s right to be exasperated at the idiocy that surrounds him.

Jadine: The loose cannon of the show who should get together with Tre and machine gun every other contestant down. Then they should fight it out to see who wins. Not at all like the other twittering, designer-suit-wearing bitches on board. Thank God!

Paul: Former Army man and currently a posh idiot. Must be fired soon. Preferably from a cannon. With cluster bombs. Please…

Katie: Pleasant bit of posh. Surprisingly likeable too.

Adam: Token bluff northerner. Bit of a bitchy girly too.

Ghazal and Kristina: The ice queens of the show. The sort of people who say they're strong women and strong feminists then sell kisses for coins on a task. Will get what’s coming to them. Hopefullly…

Lohit: No idea who he is. But he has survived this far.

Naomi: Insert any dumb blonde joke here. It will work but she won’t get it.

Natalie: Bit of rough and determined Weight Watcher. The sort of woman you’d avoid in the pub on karaoke night. Or any other night.

Dr Sophie: Too tightly wrapped for my liking.

So it’s Tre and Jadine all the way for me.