A Quick One, While I'm Away...

Ok, so I have lots of points to make and not really all that much time to make it in. That said, any kind of pseudo-cultural, cynical blog seems a bit trite and insignificant after yesterday's tragedy in Cumbria. For what they're worth, Or So I Thought...'s condolences are offered to all affected. Terrible loss of life and only 3 weeks or so into the rule of the Coalition. Now, I'm not saying that this is Cameron's fault, but in many ways, this is Cameron's fault...

Anyway, that's enough walking the razor's edge of taste for one blog. Moving swiftly on, Junior Apprentice continued its crash course through the corridors of busines, this time stopping at art dealing. Again, I find the best way to watch this (as with Eurovision) is with friends... alright, not real, actual, fleshy people who are in the room, but witty E-people delivering 140 character character assassinations (I'm not sure if that was actually quite clever or just clumsy syntax). Well, things opened with the usual hive of Tim 'I'm secretly 31, but shh, don't tell anyone' Ankers theories and we all agreed that he was in no way a 17 year old. Arjun was wearing a suit several sizes too big for him (one of Tim's? As several theorised...), whether he was staring in the Bollywood remake of Bugsy Malone, we'll never know (though I suspect the application will be in the post should he be fired at some point). Most of the attention was suitably garnered by mega-cow Zoe who decided that she was Charles Saatchi all of a sudden. What was it her parents did again? Oh, that's right, they're artists, aren't they. As she reminded us every five fucking minutes. That said, it was very difficult to distinguish between her obvious bullshitting and, say, Tim's. There were just as many. 'Ooh, nice use of space' and 'you're taking me on a journey's.

Tim had been operating with the other blonde one as his secretary (hopefully avoiding the usual trappings of the boss/secretary relationship as he would no doubt end up on a register...) and was looking particularly louche in the back of the mini cab. Zoe had once again been sucking off Clifford the Big Red Dog/Po/Iron Man (delete as appropriate) as her mouth was a lurid red, like some bollocks-spouting life ring. It seemed to work for her as she got the pick of the artists. Kirsty's infallible Scottish charm clearly not triumphing this time... ahem...

In the sale room, Zoe decided to steal everyone's customers and tell them about how she knew so much about art. Clearly one of those people who goes on a reality show so that they can end up presenting a feature about home decor on This Morning. Arjun, the sly dog, had picked up a few ladies on the quiet and had promptly sold them in excess of £2,500 worth of modern tat... sorry modern art, don't know what happened to my keyboard there... Tim decided to push people, who weren't having any of it, until a restaurant owner managed to flog him £1000 worth of photographs (no qualms there, that's pretty much art).

So what did everyone think come the end of the task? Well Zoe said that she had 'no idea how the others would turn on her' as she was 'very strong in that task'. No idea? Hahahaha. As the legendary Bernard Black (on whom I appear to have based most of my life) don't make me get sick into my own scorn. Have you never met you, Zoe? You're a teensy bit bitchy, of course they're going to turn on you. 'Delusional as well as self-obsessed and dressed like someone Arjun is about to pimp to Tim' was Simon Best's (friend of this blog) verdict on Zoe and I couldn't put it better myself.

As it happened, it was Tim's team left to face the music. "Tim, is it going to be Ankers away?" said Lord Sugar, who'd clearly been hoping that Tim lost so he could make that excellent pun. Nope, it was going to be Hannah away, because she was the most qualified. Remember Hibah? No? Well, she was fired for the same thing. That's how it works.

Finally, nemesis update. The best way I can think to frame this is that he's one of those guys that people seem to like and you appear to be the only one who can see that he's the king of all cunts. I have a lot of sympathy for Frank Grimes in The Simpsons, because, from a purely objective point of view, Homer is a bit of a bumbling, offensive loon and it's only natural that Grimes would question how he seemed to be so popular and why no-one could see his obvious flaws. I suppose, like all the things, the principle of nemeses is purely subjective... expect for this nemesis is actually a complete, mind-bogglingly punchable, marauding fucknut. Fact. That is all.