Disgusted, etc

Excuse the title, but I am still reeling from the mess that was last night’s Apprentice final. I, and many other people, had been looking forward to it for weeks. My mouth was watering over the thought of all those lovely-jubbly business pitches growing in the minds of Britain’s Brightest and Best. You know what I mean; an amazing niche restaurant, or a boutique of extraordinary clothing, or a widget to revolutionise all our lives and save the sinking economy. Of course, I ought to have known that there is no money in making and selling things any more. But even if the plans of the candidates were going to focus on organizing, and communicating, and presenting, they could have done loads better than finding a new way to, er, buy groceries. There was the candidate who wanted to open a series of those wonderful things, call centres. She didn’t even bother to find out if the web name on her business plan was actually available and buy it – one of the easiest things in the world to do. Then there was the geezer who wanted Lord Sugar’s money to help amass an enormous gambling fund – what a project for the country’s business tsar! The ‘winning’ plan will at least create a few jobs by placing other people in jobs. But what a letdown the entire series has been. I hearken back to the blog I wrote a few weeks ago, expressing a wish that Lord Sugar would summarily fire the whole lot of them and hold over the quarter mill for the next series. One thing; the entire episode has answered the question I posted on my last blog: why do Americans get to go to the moon while the British get the steam punk trophy?