The Apprentice

There are a few things in life which I categorically do not understand...

1. Why TfL feels the need to inform customers that imminent engineering works are “planned”.
I thought that engineering was always planned (or at least, I had hoped it was). The image of five men in hard hats turning up for work in the morning and going “Yes, I think we’ll put a load-bearing lintel in there, and have some riveted steel beams extending down here” doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence...

“Erm Derek”
“Yes, Brian”
“I think we might have accidentally built a rollercoaster.”
...
“Again?”


_{IMAGE CREDIT TO Frantzesco Kangaris}



2.The enduring popularity of “Ugg” boots.
They look like wellingtons made of suede.

Suede Wellies™, brought to you by the makers of the Glass Hammer™ and Paper Kettle™.

3. The central catch-phrase of “The Apprentice”: “You’re fired”
Sralan, sorry, ‘Lord Sugar’ (who sounds more like a character designed to endorse a breakfast than a business magnate) gleefully exclaims this phrase at the end of each episode.


Hang on a minute.

I thought that ‘firing’ someone was expelling them from the workplace. Terminating their employment contract. The whole gambit of The Apprentice is that it represents the "job interview from hell*". You can’t fire someone from a job for which they have not yet been hired. That would be like withdrawing money from their debit account before you’ve told them what they’re buying.

_{*Which I always imagined would involve paying Charon to cross the Styx, not being chauffeured in a flotilla of corporate cars.}

In a nameless city deluged by a continuous rain... two penguins live with a child nutritionist

As the title sequence fades out a woman appears, descending a spiral staircase into what appears to be a spacious open-plan flat. From the window, an urban skyline is visible. The woman begins to talk – to a duo of penguins. Her voice is strained, the inflection unnatural – almost as if she were a television presenter uncomfortable with the idea of sustaining dialogue with a puppet. Their eyes glazed, the penguins nod and reply to her every statement. They never blink.



As if to punctuate this impossible discourse, anthropomorphic cupcakes chime in with three-part harmonies at seemingly random intervals. The doorbell rings. Two people, barely half the height of a normal human adult, enter. They cook. All the while, the penguin stares.

It all sounds a bit David Lynch, doesn’t it?



In reality, it’s ITV’s latest offering at the altar of children’s TV: a cookery show. After watching a few episodes – for research purposes, of course, I might hastily add- I’ve reached the conclusion that, despite having a certain charm, it raises several questions.

1. What tragedy befell ‘Jimmy’ the penguin prior to broadcast?
Watching the show, you don’t get the impression that Jimmy is ‘wide-eyed with excitement’ so much as ‘shell-shocked’. Perhaps he recently received a tweet from Anthony Weiner. Whatever the trigger, it’s left him looking half way between Malcom McDowell in the infamous Ludovico technique (pharmacologically-assisted aversion therapy) scene and a juvenile scops owl...







2. What on earth is a penguin doing with a dead chicken in its fridge?

I know that in a world in which children turn up (unannounced) at the abode of a middle-aged woman, and a Sphenisciforme with no opposable thumbs invents and operates heavy machinery, the food chain should be the least of my concerns, but there’s something slightly unnerving about a penguin eating a chicken...


We all know where the penguin is really looking.

Having said that, if you happen to have 15 minutes to spare I can think of worse ways to spend it.

The Only Way is Structured Reality

In many ways, the BAFTAs are like a school play performed by a relative’s progeny; you may have constructed elaborate excuses so as not to have to watch it, but despite your earnest efforts you’ll hear about it anyway. That and at some point, one of the performers will forget their lines. Oh, and you can safely assume that someone will walk onstage wearing a pipe-cleaner creation.

Apparently, this year there’s been some controversy over the award of a BAFTA to The Only Way is Essex, or “TOWIE” to fans of acronyms.




The Only Way is Essex represents something of a new genre – ‘structured reality’. Not to be confused with augmented reality, (or proper television, for that matter), structured reality offers “real people in modified situations, saying unscripted lines but in a structured way”. With programmes such as ‘Geordie Shore’, ‘Made in Chelsea’ and others of that ilk successfully vying for screen time, perhaps it’s worth exploring what drives people to consume this sort of output. At heart we’re all voyeurs. It’s the reason that super-injunctions are contested and why fly-on-the-wall documentaries can be so compelling – as a species, we’re fascinated by the minutiae of the lives of others. That and people with unusual names. ‘Binky’, ‘Funda’ , ‘Cheska’ - they sound more like European cars than people.




‘Caggie’ Dunlop, of Made In Chelsea. I’m going to go ahead and assume that it’s short for ‘Cargaret’.

So perhaps it is no great surprise that ‘TOWIE’ managed to triumph over Downton Abbey, Sherlock, Miranda, Big Fat Gypsy Weddings and The Killing in the YouTube Audience prize.