Particularly the pointless, nauseating and now departed Big Brother. That said, there are some issues I must raise at an executive level so I have copied you in on the following memo:
1. Lord Alan 'Lorshugger' Sugar tells us in the opening sequence that the prize is 'to work with me'. Leaving aside the rather puzzling notion that to graft for Amstrad is the kind of blessing of which mere mortals can only dream, it seems obvious the winner gets to do nothing of the kind. I understand former 'apprentice' Michelle Dewsberry was put in charge of recycling PCs. Is this a flagship area of Lorshugger's operation that's alive with challenge and opportunity? I'm not so sure. No wonder she left after three months.
2. Many of the contestants are really incredibly stupid. Now they may be picked for that very reason, but that would force Lorshugger to hire an idiot. Nevertheless, only this week we saw several grown, educated adults turn down an offer from Boots (only named once and thereafter dubbed 'The Pharmacists') and thereby ensuring their ludicrous 'novel as a windbreak' concept attracted not a single buyer. Razor sharp thinking there, ladies.
3. The 'team leaders' almost always fail miserably to grasp even the basics of people management. In most cases their strategy appears to involve dumping any notion of planning, discussion, listening, deputising or executing in favour of a festival of shouting, bickering and occcasionally crying. If the next generation of industry captains are going to take all their cues from the playground, then this fiscal crisis is likely to have a long shelf life.
4. I don't really get the cooking tasks. This season favours these episodes - we've already had sausages and there's at least two more kitchen briefs to follow. They don't really explore the complexities of business and are closer to an edition of 'Ready, Steady, Cook'. I can't imagine a three figure gig with Lorshugger calls for much culinary flair and what about hygiene? Do restaurants really buy meat products from gangs of youngsters on the street? I hope not.
5. On the Piers Morgan documentary, Lorshugger claimed he was one of the few people who could write a valid cheque for £100m. So how come his boardroom resembles the meeting room of a medium sized plumbing supplies wholesaler? I've seen better furniture in the Ikea Spring sale. C'mon Alan, surely you have Lawrence Llewelyn Bowen's number.
6. Returning to the title sequence, I note Lorshugger no longer glides over the office blocks of the capital in his SugarCopter. But is this a result of the recent 'authenticity' scandals tainting other shows (ie: he doesn't really have a chopper), or a nod to the cutback culture we're all enjoying so much? I must find out.
7. Karen Brady is no Margaret. Last week, it was rather ironic that the young lady who was shown the door was accused of taking a back seat and not getting 'stuck in', when this is very much Ms. Brady's modus operandi. Her little 'women in business' speech was her sole appearance of note (and was largely nonsense) so the barbed observations of her predecessor were particularly missed.
8. When the 'saved' pair return to the house and their fellow competitors jump to their feet to embrace them, as if to say 'Thank God it was you who survived!', the insincerity almost moves me to physical sickness. Just for once, it would be wonderful if the two strode into the lounge to be met with moans of disappointment, exasperation and dismay.
9. If I was to be summoned to Heathrow at five in the morning to watch Lorshugger's 'bulldog licking a nettle' visage on a big screen, before being whisked back to central London, I might have cause to question the decision making abilities of my potential employer.
10. When Lorshugger appears through the frosted glass door of the shabby boardroom, straight after the task, it looks like he's just been for a poo.
Still, Alan, loving the show, loving the show.
Magnus Shaw, October 2010
