French farce

Well, we've already had the shopping list and the advertising tasks. So it must be time for the two-day trip to the continent, as we head across the channel for another episode that celebrates national stereotypes and makes us all slightly embarrassed to be British. Aside from a strangely arty opening shot of a spider hiding inside a lampshade (metaphor alert), it's pretend business as usual. Our would-be entrepreneurs are off to St Pancras International with their matching overnight bags. Hopefully these have actually got something in them, unlike the empty props that get carried into Lord Sugar's offices at the end of every episode.

As Tom, played this week by Michael Sheen, grudgingly accepts the Team Leader role, Melody regales the rest of the team with stories of her negotiations "at U.N. level". You see, Melody speaks six languages and sounds like she's been autotuned in all of them. Looking more and more like a used teabag with five o'clock shadow, Lord Sugar tells the teams "Your train leaves in twenty minutes so you'd better hurry up". They wouldn't need to if he didn't insist on these ridiculous Mexican stand-off briefings.

Over on Team Venture, Susan eagerly volunteers for the PM role, excitedly announcing "I know absolutely nothing about France, I've never been there, I don't even know any French people, I can't speak a word of French, apart from 'Bonjour', don't know French food. I know nothing." I've been shouting that at the TV for weeks.

As half the teams head off to Paris, the rest stay behind to hear the product pitches. Electric bikes, beanbag beds and a weird ball-on-a-string. Hard to tell whether that last one is a children's toy or a sex aid. Zoe says she's impressed by the beanbag bed, but her flat intonation makes it hard to tell. Tom expresses his enthusiasm for a light that looks like a teapot, saying it's very "Briddish". Not when you pronounce it like that.

Susan's ridiculously juvenile exclamations border on the surreal as she asks questions like "Do the French like their children? Do people drive in France." If we hadn't cut to one of Karren's disapproving looks, we'd probably have heard her telling everyone "I want to do a poo in Paul's bathroom."

One of the star products is clearly a booster seat that doubles as a backpack. Melody's unconvinced, asking, quite reasonably, "Why would someone carry a car-seat with them. Wouldn't you just leave it in the car?" Unfortunately, she uses 'market research' to fuel her preconceptions, rather than determining whether or not people like the idea. And since no-one else speaks French, she's able to reframe the feedback to suit her own agenda. Clearly smelling an immaculately dressed rat, Tom advises her to conduct the research "independent of her own thoughts". Perhaps "enculer vous" might have been clearer.

Leon, on the other hand, is in awe of his team-mate, as he marvels at the way she can say stuff to French people and understand what they say back. It's called communication, although that's obviously an unfamiliar concept to the majority of this year's bunch, since they spend most of their time saying "I hear what you're saying" despite all evidence to the contrary. Let's not forget that Jim also speaks French, although he takes every opportunity to avoid it, by asking "Parlez vous Anglais?" then proceeding to speak like he's auditioning for a reboot of Allo Allo. There's something strangely despairing about Jim - he may have a killer instinct, but he has the doleful expression of a caged beagle in an animal research centre. And is it just me, or are his eyes gradually getting further and further apart? In a couple of weeks he'll be able to see his own arse, just as Lord Sugar boots it out the door.

As the teams reunite in France, Melody expresses disappointment at the teapot lamp, complaining that it's a little tacky. I'm not sure what she had in mind, but it's a fuck of a sight better than the ridiculous sketch that Leon was using to canvass opinion. Despite her misgivings, she's decided to keep all the appointments she made to herself, leaving Tom and Natasha (yeah) to fend for themselves on the mean cobbled streets of Paris.

Sales are sluggish to begin with. Melody scores fifty units early on, followed by Natasha (yeah) who explains that bone china is traditionally used for tea and scones. I find Be-Ro works better, but who am I to judge? Tom had little to add to the pitch, instead claiming that "Natasha's done a brilliant job of presenting." Jury's out on that one. Yeah.

As Team Venture make their presentation to the French retail giant, Helen reminds us that she's just toying with the rest of them. She nails her pitch like a pro, whereas Susan simply demonstrates that she can fit in a child's booster seat. Shortly afterwards, she redeems herself by flogging 1,000 flexible phone stands - the perfect accessory if, like the contestants, you're incapable of holding a phone properly. Our final glimpse of the gang's French foray sees Melody happily proclaiming "I should move to Paris and do business here." I'll start the whip-round for the ferry ticket myself.

Back in the boardroom, and Lord Sugar's dropped the weak puns in favour of a comical mispronunciation to win this week's sycophantic laughter (drink). "Trompserleesers" seems to do the job. Muted lolz all round. He also points out "I set up a meeting with one of France's biggest retailers, where I used to do a lot of business." Somewhere in the South of France, there's a landfill site full of email phones. 

The results are in and Helen's amazing pitch has scored a record-breaking 214,000 Euro order. That's four weak teas in the Cafe of Crushed Dreams for Team Logic then. The winners are off for flying lessons, and we get to see Susan come down to Earth with a bang. But not quite the one I had in mind.

In the first round of 'It wasn't me's (drink), Tom blames Melody for not getting behind the rucksack booster seat, but she responds by handing him his balls on une assiette. Even though it's clear that Melody didn't do the research as instructed, overruled the team leader and seized control of the entire fail, she's not going anywhere. Nick complains that Tom and Leon need to be a bit more manly. Thankfully Leon's out of the room at this point - the last thing we need is an outbreak of gay panic in the boardroom.

Tom brings Leon and Melody back in, and Lord Sugar opens with a review of Melody's rezzyoomay. I guess C.V.s are so last century. After a tedious recap of Melody's accomplishments, it's Lord Sugar's turn as we get this week's "when I was 18 years-old" anecdote (drink). Since it's Tom's first time in the boardroom, he doesn't notice the trap set for him when conversation turns to the way he and Natasha decided who would lead the big retail pitch. Apparently, rock, paper, scissors plays less of a role in big business than you might imagine. As Tom confesses, Alan and Karren do their best incredulous face (drink).

After his customary pre-firing bluff (drink), Lord Sugar lets Melody off the hook, possibly because he saw the shiv she'd stuck up her sleeve. She's taking no prisoners this week. Instead, he's listening to his gut and getting rid of Leon. He departs with a genuine "thanks for the opportunity" (drink), and gets an over-the-shoulder duckface from Melody. Final words from Lord Sugar, "I like Melody because she eats them up and spits them out." Somewhere in Heaven, Sid James is smiling. 

We'll take a cup of kindness

Well, this is it. The final post of 2010. And what a year it's been. I hope this series of memory joggers has helped you reflect on the ups and downs of the last 12 months, and that not all the memories gave you a headache.

George Bush had his own troubling moment of reflection in November as he reflected on his eight years in the Oval Office. Strangely, it wasn't the economic meltdown, Hurricane Katrina, 9/11, an illegal war, corporate corruption or dubious election results that caused him sleepless nights. It was being called names by Kanye West. Still, at least he has a newfound empathy for Taylor Swift.

Speaking of music, Katy Perry, P!nk, Ke$ha and Lady Gaga plucked their pens from behind their ears and scribbled some inspiring songs to show their support for their gay fans. One person who was unable to contribute to this musical outpouring was Michael Jackson, although that didn't stop his canny record label from cobbling together an album from recordings of the King of Pop clearing his throat and practicing his scales.

Nadine Coyle also released her long-awaited debut album, but only on the shelves of Tesco. As a result, she shifted fewer units than a warehouse worker on long-term sick leave. Poor promotion was blamed for the project's failure, but ultimately, it came down to what her bandmate Cheryl repeatedly refers to as 'the likeability factor'. In that she didn't have any.

The celebrities were also out in force this November - another bunch of desperate 'stewing steak' stars tried to convince us they were still fillet, by gobbling down all manner of marsupial genitals in the Australian jungle. Hungry fans were also able to join in the fun of the Bushtucker Trial this time, thanks to the release of witchetty grub chocolates.

If you prefer your celebreality entertainment with fewer dry-heaving scenes, you could have tuned into Celebrity Coach Trip - a remarkable show which stretched the concept of celebrity to its illogical conclusion. Forget about BAFTAs, what everyone needed to see was Barry Chuckle sharing a beer bath with Ingrid Tarrant.

The Daily Mail continued its war on logic, tolerance and professional journalism, by writing an article warning its white readership that they're just fifty years away from being a minority. Less politically minded readers had to content themselves with a remarkable story investigating the science of celebrity. Its stunning conclusion: famous people mix with other famous people in expensive place. Mystery solved. There were also some handy hints on how to buy your wife the perfect Christmas gift. If you missed this incisive piece, here's the summary - listen.

The recession maintained its icy grip on the wallets of the nation, so David Cameron commissioned the Office of National Statistics to conduct a survey assessing how happy we all are. It's just a shame no-one has found a way to measure the happiness of Britain's turkeys, who had good reason to celebrate on Thanksgiving (for once) when Bernard Matthew finally bit the big Golden Drummer.

The True Clean Towel was also made available, promising to put a smile (and nothing else) on the faces of anyone with a phobia of letting their damp parts touch. The surprisingly graphic ad shocked and amused in equal measure, although if anyone does want a pair of balls rubbing in their face, I can recommend a number of clubs.

Finally, November was a month of shocking revelations, as Michael Moore received a long-awaited apology, Tomasz Schafernaker showed his casual side, and Hobbits were uncovered as a bunch of undersized white supremacists.

Which, rather neatly, brings us to December. As five inches of snow managed to bring the whole country to a standstill, we found ourselves under house arrest, much like Julian Assange. The Australian journalist was eventually released on bail to await extradition, having ironically found himself on the receiving end of a tactical intelligence leak.

Bernie Ecclestone showed his battered features in an ad for Hublot watches, making it the desirable timepiece for anyone who wants to be beaten and robbed in the street. In contrast, Nike became a much less desirable brand when the shoe manufacturer decided to sue a guy who mistakenly bought a fake pair of shoes on the internet.

A school in Memphis waged war on low-slung denim, by creating a wall of shame for slouchy students revealing a little too much underwear. And Disney tried to help out the kids by bringing in Britney Spears to teach the next generation of child stars about how to handle the pressures of fame. Which was a little like asking Katie Price for advice on getting the 'natural look'.

We endured the finals of the X-Factor and The Apprentice, both of which ended rather predictably, with winners that most viewers had picked out in the first couple of weeks. However, both shows did give us some fantastically entertaining highlights, thanks to the most objectionable contestants since Goebbels and Goering appeared on Double Dare with Peter Simon.

So here we are. It's December 31st, the Prosecco's chilling in the fridge, and many of my work colleagues are shivering in the cold by the banks of the Thames, waiting to trigger the fireworks. Whoever and wherever you are, I'd like to wish you a Happy New Year and thank you for spending some of your time on this blog. I hope you'll be back again in 2011.

Now, to play us out, here's a mash-up of 25 of the biggest hits of the year, courtesy of DJ Earworm (Warning: may contain traces of Ke$ha)...

What not to do in an interview

Baggs is offering a 24/7 working week, by inventing a dog collar with GPS, so that your pets can be tracked when you're in Bermuda. Now he's telling his interviewer that he's a brand, and when pushed, softens that to "I think I might be". Oh, and he's a fish too. After last week's "field full of ponies" remark, it seems that he's working his way through the animal kingdom.

Joanna is now explaining what it means to own a cleaning company, making it sound like she just manages the rotas for a couple of Polish women. I know these segments are edited for highlights, but it basically looks like they walk in, get insulted, then walk out again. It's no wonder people are nervous about interviews if this is what the BBC wants people to believe about how the process works.

Stella's getting cross, having been told that she's "really just a very good PA". She grew up on Thamesmead, so the interviewer will be lucky if he leaves the room with both his knees intact.

Meanwhile, Joanna's admitting that there are people who "on paper, look a lot better than me". I'm sorry to be the one to break the news that the rule doesn't just apply on paper. Funnily enough, Lord Sugar is someone who does look good on paper. At least that's the only explanation I can think of to explain why a man was thrown out of Crawley Library last week for masturbating into a copy of Sugar's autobiography.

Oh dear, now Baggs' claim about being a fully licenced telecoms operator is being interrogated, in that it's complete bullshit. It probably didn't help matters that he stopped the interviewer mid-flow to ask him his name because he wasn't paying attention earlier.

He reckons he feels like he's "gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson". Now that's something I'd pay to view on Baggs' triple-play platform. Strangely, the experience doesn't seem to have dulled his confidence - "I don't think there's anyone out there like me..." he claims. There is, but only in repeats of The Office on Dave.

Now Alan's advisors are giving him the feedback, but it doesn't look like he's really paying attention. He keeps forgetting how to start his sentences. It's all carefully edited to keep the audiences guessing, like Paul and Stevie once sang, "there's good and bad, in everyone".

Margaret made a funny about Chris, suggesting that he sits at home masturbating over his academic certificates. Karren Brady's lips pursed at this, since she's obviously keen to invite the blue-eyed boy into her boardroom.

Now it's Stella's turn. They keep using words like 'solid' and 'dependable' to describe her, as though she's a golden labrador. They're a little put off by the fact that she's "wooden and corporate", but that's because she views personality as an unfortunate disability, like dyslexia.

Now it's Baggs-the-brand under the spotlight. Lots of positive comments - "he's a dreamer who doesn't sleep", but they're all concerned that he 'gilds the lily' a little too much. Which is a nice way of saying he lies through his teeth.

The candidates have now been invited back into the boardroom, where Chris' eyes are as sparkly blue as ever. It's funny that he always gets stick for being monotonous, when Stella sounds like air slowly leaking out of a bus tyre.

Best laugh of the week was hearing Lord Sugar describe his business as a "dynamic environment where we're starting new ventures from scratch." I'm sure the eleven people in the UK with an Amstrad email phone are eager to see what other great innovations Big Al has up his dynamic sleeves.

Stuart feels that the interviews were probing and hostile - just wait till he meets his adoring public. Lord Sugar has just told him that he's 'full of shit', making it officially the first sensible thing he's said all series. Now poor old Alan is feeling sick that he let lovely Liz go. Shock horror, Stuart was fired almost without any warning. Stuart's concerned that no-one has any understanding of "what he's really all about". Au contraire my lumpy-faced friend.

Having seen Stuart banished from the boardroom like an incontinent puppy, the other contestants are now churning out all the 'spearheading', 'rawness' and 'breaking barriers' cliches. It's all "speaking volumes" apparently. Joanna hasn't done enough, so she's next to go, and has given us some hot teary boardroom action.

Stella's through, Jamie's gone, and Chris is safe. Perhaps Lord Sugar is finally getting the hang of this hiring and firing nonsense.

More than one of you will be fired

It's time for everyone's favourite episode of The Apprentice. Sure, the advertising task is always good for a laugh, and last week's 'bag a bargain' episode was up to the concept's usual standard. But in terms of pure entertainment value, nothing can trump seeing our favourite characters put through their paces by Lord Sugar's bully-boy mates. And Margaret.

Like everything else in the show, it's not really grounded in any kind of reality, much like the contestants themselves. No-one in their right mind would conduct such an aggressively antagonistic interview. So consider it more a kind of karmic retribution; punishment for all those weeks of aggravation and irritation.

Suddenly, Lord Sugar's ridiculous decision to save Stuart Baggs ('the Brand') over large-eyed ingenue Liz Locke makes a little more sense. It's always best to save the most hateful candidate for the episode when they're torn apart like supporting characters in a Saw sequel.

Time for a quick check in with the five remaining hopeless hopefuls. Joanna claims that she's so much more than "...just a cleaner from Leicester". It remains to be seen what else she is. Jamie is dressed in a cheap suit and a red tie, whereas Chris is proud to look like John Major.

Stuart has got off to a great start, announcing "You've gotta show you've got the balls, and the minerals to do it." He obviously sees himself as cubic zirconia in the the rough. In typically arrogant style, he also announces that "Lord Sugar said he saw a little bit of himself in me." Funnily enough, so do I. But it's the tip of my left foot.

The interviews don't appear to be going well for Stuart - he went into a room to find Margaret Mountford making a special guest appearance. "Hello Margaret" he declared, to be met with that famous eyeroll, as she asked whether he'd typically greet an unknown interviewer on first name terms. Actually, I would, but Madge appears to be more comfortable with Miss Moutford. Pissy cow.

Joanna has breezed straight into her first interview unable to answer any questions about Lord Sugar's businesses. This comes up every single year, and yet time and time again the candidates don't even check Wikipedia to see which bits of his 'business empire' he's had to shave off and sell. "He sells computers and stuff" was her highly professional answer. I've never seen someone attempt to swallow their own face in shame before. That's one to tick off the bucket list.

Chris believes that he's a nationally revered scholar because he did well at his A-levels. Margaret's blue eyes glinted with delight at this, like a housecat spotting a mouse with a broken back.

It's OK, it's for charity

Remember those awful high-heeled shoes for toddlers that featured on a recent episode of The Apprentice? They're called Heelarious, and are designed to give pre-schoolers their first taste of negative body image and back pain.

If you're someone who thought "Ooh, they look like fun!" I have some exciting news for you. Your little girl will soon be able to complete her Minipops Makeover thanks to those Transylvanian trollops The Cheeky Girls.

Having run out of self-esteem bashing reality shows to appear on, the vacant vamps have just launched a new range of glamour products aimed at young girls, including eye-shadow, nail varnish, lip gloss and a perfume(presumably featuring top notes of desperation).

So if you've ever bemoaned your child's plain features or general lack of bedazzlement, you're in luck. Quicker than you can say Nabakov, your little Lolita will be stunning the council estate with her scarily accelerated sexualisation.

If, for some bizarre reason, you find this whole endeavour objectionable, the fact that 10% of the proceeds will be going to Great Ormond Street Children's Hospital should silence those nagging doubts once and for all. I look forward to the inevitable fashion range to go with the make-up, perhaps hot-pants with 'Touch My Bum' across the back? And the proceeds can go to a child abuse charity.

All good things must come to an end

Tonight's the night folks. It's the end of series five of The Apprentice, as Kate faces off against Yasmina for the coveted title of whatever bullshit job Alan Sugar can muster up for them. Because let's be honest, it's never really been about the job has it? How many times have you heard one of the candidates state confidently that they really want to work for Sir Alan, without ever giving a reason for holding such a death wish?

Nonetheless, millions will tune in tonight to see the women's battle royale. Kate is the spare Appleton sister that Natalie and Nicole keep in a cupboard incase Shaznay insists on going for lunch. Despite the fact that her mouth is on the side of her face, like Picasso's idea of a pin-up, she's far more likeable than hard-faced Yasmina who has a vast forehead and all the easy-going charm of Robert Mugabe. It's a tough one to call in terms of who'll win, but it's clear who's going to lose - Nick Hewer. Because Margaret Mountford has announced that this will be her final Apprentice appearance.

Nick and Margaret are Sir Alan's squinty eyes and ears on every task, tutting disdainfully at every cretinous remark and holding their head in their hands at every failed negotiation. Although they are only usually seen together in the boardroom, they have a Butch and Sundance quality whereby it's hard to imagine one without the other. Margaret is leaving to focus on her PhD in papyrology, although I imagine she could also find work as a Tony Benn lookalike.

Interestingly, Sir Alan could be following Margaret if Tory politician John Whittingdale gets his way. Speaking to the Mail on Sunday, Wittingdale claims that Sir Alan's recent appointment as an 'Enterprise Tsar' for the government represents a conflict of interest, and that he needs to stand down from his role on The Apprentice. However, I wonder whether Wittingdale has even seen The Apprentice, since he describes Sir Alan as the show's 'presenter'. Not that it's anything new for Tory politicians to decry something that they haven't even seen. It seems to me that this is someone taking an opportunistic swipe at the BBC (and where better to do that in the Mail?) and name-checking The Apprentice on the day of the final to ensure some high profile coverage.

Suffer the children

In this week's Apprentice, we were treated to the sight of 'Heelarious', high-heeled shoes for babies in a range of gaudy patterns that would be perfect if you wanted your toddler to look like Bet Lynch. Unsurprisingly, this dubious footwear has provoked its fair share of controversy, provoking debate about people's desire to strip children of their innocence at an early age. Apparently, whorish footwear isn't every parents' dream for their little ones.

So I thought it was a weird co-incidence that the BBC announced today its plans to create a spin-off of its Wednesday night ratings juggernaut, featuring contestants in their teens, to air in 2010.

Why wait until you've built a successful career, when you can screw up your entire future prospects while you're still studying for your A-levels?

Most teenagers have a special brand of obnoxiousness brought about by fluctuating hormones and a preposterous sense of entitlement, so I suppose it makes sense that they be decked out in braces and thrust in front of the cameras to learn about humility the hard way. It's going to be like Brat Camp, but with more 'thinking outside the box'.

Still, after seeing proper 'professionals' confuse Kosher with Halal, try to sell mild Cheddar to the French, and masturbate the legs of a trampoline, its safe to say that our next generation of apprentices can't do any worse than we've already seen. Some of them may even manage to be likeable, a task that has proved to be way beyond the capabilities of this year's contestants.

Pour some Sugar on me

Just days to go now, before we all get to feel a little better about ourselves. Sir Alan Sugar and his comedy sidekicks (like Phil and Kirsty in 30 years' time) are back with a new collection of pinstriped pricks to pick apart.

If you've ever questioned whether you're any good at the job you do, five minutes of The Apprentice will make you feel like Donald Trump should be polishing your shoes.

I often get accused of overusing cliches (if I've heard it once I've heard it a million times) but the scowl-faced muppets on this show make it an artform. Work hard play hard, not here to be liked, use it or lose it. It's all here and then some.

I've yet to see an episode where anyone displays any actual talent in their professional field. OK, I'll concede that Ruth Badger had a certain rough-edged set of sales skills, but if a butch Brummy bruiser started bellowing at me, I'd probably buy a car too. I've also yet to have a 'favourite' contestant in a final. The closest I've ever come to that is having someone that I would least hate to win. And that was Michelle Dewberry, who fucked it up nanoseconds after winning by getting pregant with the nauseatingly idiotic Syed.

Last year's stand out star was the impossibly posh Raef, who could give the Royal family lessons in haughty superiority. We were also spoiled for comedy lookalikes, so much so that we didn't learn anyone's name until about the eighth episode.

Even though the BBC didn't invent the format, they have to be applauded for their exceptional casting department, their aerial photography and the voiceover guy who does an admirable job of keeping a straight face when talking about Sralan's formidable business empire. I wonder if they'll still be using those ridiculous Amstrad email phones this year?

To get you in the mood for 2009's Best Bullshit Bingo players, here's the BBC's highlights from last year: