Enemies of Reason Poundshop potshots at the media moral maze.

The desperate search for watercoolerness

News? Too tricky. Requires too much labour. Means people have to leave the office sometimes. Inefficient. "What I watched on telly last night" is so much better.

So we have Jaci Stephen's weekly insight into The Apprentice, courtesy of the Hate.

One of the great mysteries about The Apprentice is how, given the enormous chip on Sir Alan's shoulder, we get to see the contestants at all.
Last week, the chip loomed large again when he fired barrister Nicholas de Lacy-Brown, whose great crime was to have an education.

Balls. Double balls and bollocks. How do you explain that simpering upper-class twit of the year who won it last season then, Jaci?

Now, cards on the table. I love the Apprentice. I love it for slightly different reasons than a lot of people love it, but I love it nonetheless. I love those lingering helicopter shots of the London skyline and the minimalist ambient music chugging away in the background. Wonderful! I love TV that has quiet bits where some Mancunian numpty doesn't have to shout at you and tell you the things that are going on, in front of your face, which you can see with your eyes. The Apprentice is a silly confection, a bit of telly nonsense, a pretence of what is rather than a serious bit of reportage. Here are people who claim they're brilliant at sales, yet don't know that lobsters are more than a fiver each - the irony's there for everyone to enjoy. And it's a very tasty weekly sherbet fountain of a programme. I don't get the bit where Adrian Chiles amiably chunters away at whoever's been fired afterwards, but we can excuse that. In general, it's a load of fun.

One of the most fun things is - and how Stephens, being a TV critic hasn't spotted this - is that, in the early stages, the annoying bastards and bitches must NEVER get voted out. You have to keep your Raefs and your Jennys - they'll have their day, don't worry about that, but not straight away. Where's the fun in that? You have to see hubris before nemesis. Not much point in King Lear dying in Act I Scene I, is there. You have to seethe at the injustice so you keep watching and eventually see them humiliated and fired. It's the same in the US version of the Apprentice, presented by that jowly berk with the flock-of-albatrosses haircut who wants to buy Scotland. Keep in the really irritating ones, chip away at the blander and equally inept characters. This is television, after all.

Anyway, back to Stephens.

We have been told that the upmarket, very smart converted factory where the contestants live for the duration of the show is the kind of lifestyle the winner can expect to enjoy. Not on a measly hundred grand in London they won't.
They'll be lucky to get the kitchen (minus sink) for that.

A hundred grand not enough for you, Jaci?

Things didn't get much better when the teams returned to the boardroom, where the boys were declared the winners and given tea at the Ritz.
Whoopee! Eight hundred million a year, Sir Alan, and the best you can offer is a couple of cup cakes? Shame on you.

Hundred grand is 'measly'; tea at the Ritz is 'a couple of cup cakes'. Phew!

And now onto my internet messageboard heroine of the week: Helen E, from London. Take it away, Helen...

Jaci Stephen: Why would anyone want to work for him, "and just for one hundred grand"? Oh you arrogant, out of touch, over-paid cow.

- Helen E., London, UK

Class. World class.

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