So it’s over for yet another year and yet another halfwit won a six-figure salary with Alan Sugar while the far superior runner-up ended up with bugger all. But next year viewers may get a worthy winner as there'll be an additional credible candidate on board – because I’m applying.
So here’s my letter:
Dear Sir Alan
I’m a journalist who’s thoroughly disillusioned with his chosen career so I’ve decided to have a go at this business lark. Because, let’s be honest here, if countless, dimwit, cocaine-fuelled, City-boy tossers can earn fortunes by following share prices and predicting obvious market trends then it’s can’t really be that hard, can it?
And let’s face it, if it’s a salesman you’re after selling is pretty easy if you’re smart enough to pick a decent product and know where your market is (although if I was charged with selling the Amstrad Video Phone it would probably beat even me).
I’m also stupidly organised and, unlike the bulk of the people who make it onto your telly show, I wouldn’t spend countless hours farting around with mood boards when the task was buying a toilet brush or making a calendar.
My main strength is a calm, intelligent, common-sense approach – but that probably wouldn’t be very good to watch when compared to idiots floundering around making total tits of themselves.
And, now I think about it, I’m not enough of a stereotype (aggressive Tre, posh dimwit Rory, bitchy ice queen Katie, etc) for viewers to get an easy understanding of, so it’s probably better that I don’t apply at all.
Which is a shame because I think you’re actually quite funny (which is more than be said of that twat Donald Trump).
Yours truly
A nearly potential candidate
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