Chez Moi

a.k.a The Singhsons. Really! The only surprise is it was so long in coming. Watch the video and crack up!

“This is a job interview from hell!” - the dour voice intoning this stale statement has gone beyond getting on my nerves. It has gone to the stage where I can only watch Surallan’s rants when the telly is on mute. And the contestants - boy, if these are the brightest and best business minds in Britain today, then Lord help us all!

What the hell am I going on about? The latest installment of Apprentice, of course. The show that started off with so much promise. Week after week, we watched it to see what new task will be given to the bright sparks and what they do with it. The wide variety, the ideas that came thick and fast and of course, the discussion we had about it all made it unmissable telly.

Well that was then.

Now, ratings greed have swallowed the Unique Boss from Hell and spat out an irascible man, whom I wouldn’t work for, not even for the much vaunted six-figure salary. Hell, if he shouted and spat at me like that, I’ll be happy to chuck the job straight back in his face, thanks very much and exit with my head held high. Which is probably what the former winners have all done - not one of them seem to stick around for longer than the stipulated year.

Nowadays, the show has become a farce of the highest order. Project managers, who seem to think shouting, intimidating and bullying the rest of the team is the best way forward. A bunch of twats in power suits, who seem not to know what the word “team” means but somehow consider grim looks and bitchy attitudes are just the ticket. If this is the job interview from hell, then we have the perfect candidates!

Two things that are annoying the hell out of me this year - the gross ineptitude of the candidates and the amount of bullying that is going on, unchecked.

Task after task, we have these idiots running around like headless chickens, not knowing which way to go. Cooking task? The head chef is someone who eats out a lot but cooks shite. Photography? How about a chap who cannot take a decent photo and a lady who doesn’t know one end of a computer from another, in charge of the technical details. Laundry? We have ninnies who haven’t got a clue how much it costs to wash and clean clothes and pitch ridiculous amounts and even lose a few garments in the process.

And the bullying? The girls team has got Lucinda or Ladyribenaberet, as Ann Pickard of the Guardian has named her, as the pet scapegoat and generally piss on this weepy woman week after week. In the boys’ side, Simon was sniggered at cos he was common, I suppose and even Claire saw fit to treat him like shit. And she got away with it! That’s the way, Surallan!

None of these clowns seems to have a single redeeming quality amongst the whole lot of them - and that is saying something. Cliques, backstabbing and walking over a few heads to grab that trophy seems to be sufficient. This ain’t no all for one and one for all gig - it is every man for himself and woe betide any of you if you actually possess a heart.

Nice to know this is the kind of workplace attitude and ethics that are being promoted by one of Britain’s top employers. Maybe it ain’t just the interview that is from Hell - it may well be the blessed workplace too!

I have a biggo rant on the show coming up but I need to get this outta my system before I pop so here it is. This week the twats were given the task of coming up with a whole new ‘day’ for people to send greeting cards to. One gang of nitwits had their leader, the Sophocles chap, coming up with a “hey you’ve just had plastic surgery - many happies” card (or Happy Boob Job Day, as the Guardian’s Organ Grinder blog colourfully puts it) while the others come up with - wait for it - Save the Planet week.

How do they propose to do it? Oh by sending cards to one and all. The most hilarious bit is, it doesn’t occur to NOBODY what a self-defeating purpose it is to print CARDS (made, one thinks, by CUTTING TREES), put STAMPS on it, get  it delivered from POINT A to POINT B… well, you get my drift. And these, ladies and gentlemen, are the ‘finest business minds in Britain’ today. God save Britain.

Sophocles’ team finally decide on National Singles Day but are blown if they can figure out if there is an apostrophe in Singles and if yes, where it comes. They spend about 4 hours thrashing this about.

What neither team have stopped to consider - among other things - is the market. Who is going to buy the blessed cards? Who, for example, would buy a card that says “happy s’ingle’s’ day” and send it to their single friends? From one single friend to another? And then you’d hope to be alive after that?

And who would like to be the first chump to BUY a CARD that says “don’t waste water - take a shower” and GIVE it to someone.

Finest minds in Britain today people. Be afraid. Be very afraid.

Ok I missed Episode I of this year’s series, shuttling as I was between Marne de Vallee / Chessy and St Pancras stations. But thanks to Guardian blogs and BBC’s excellent iPlayer, I have been brought up to speed. And I have to say, the actual viewing of the missed episode paled in comparison to Guardian’s Anna Pickard’s lively piece. The girl is undoubtedly hilarious!

I actually thought I would steer clear of this year’s quota as it was getting a bit stale. A scowling Surallen, the latest crop of Britian’s Supreme Twats and the po-faced trusty sidekicks was too much deja-vu. But typical of car crash telly, one cannot keep away, right? And when you can get quality television, thanks to the supremely arrogant tools on the show, why deny oneself eh?

Last year’s show was made interesting as 1. I could discuss it the next day with my team at work and 2. we had a sweep of sorts to predict the winner. (I gotta say, I never would have chosen Simon Ambrose in a million years!) So this year, I am looking to my lovely readers and my reluctant uni mates to make it all interesting.

So, BBC 1, Wednesday at 9.00 pm - mark it!

What is this guy doing? I mean, seriously. Yeah he had a pop at a tennis career. That bombed. Now, in true blue British sense of the word, he is trying to make a career for him as a celebrity? I mean, what gives?

When I saw him with his family on Family Fortunes last month or so, I thought “what?” but then, the oddest celeb has-beens parade on that show so it wasn’t a big. Or so I assumed.

And now, for the past three weeks, he has been gracing my TV screen every Sunday night, on Dancing On Ice. And it is excruciating to watch. This gangly, seven-feet or so of ungainly man comes on the ice every Sunday, as stiff and ill-suited to a spin on the ice as one could possibly be, with an inane grin fixed on his mug and it is enough to make me scream. Why? Why? Why?

Stop making a fool of yourself, please, Rusedski. Stop trying to carve a life as a celebrity on British telly. I cannot imagine a life worse (for me, that is!) than watching you pop in at random moments grinning like a nutter. This may sound really bizarre, but how about a life away from the limelight? Yeah? Move away from the cameras. No Spouse Swap, Celeb Big Brother or I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out of Here nonsense, ok? Just get yourself out of here. Please!