Previously on Junior Apprentice: Flogging, fighting and fannying.
They open by meeting Sir Alan at an aquarium at about 7.30am, when we suspect it’s not actually open. Hewer looks like he can jimmy a lock though, so they manage to sneak in and glare at the sharks. Their task is to sell bottled water by creating a brand, bottle, TV advert, jingle and pitch it to Industry Experts.
But with this being the final episode, the folks that got fired are back, and lined up ready to be picked for either team. Nawty Adam is back, and the LAD quotient increases a million fold, while first week’s fired twat Jordan De Courcy is last to be picked, and stands looking increasingly uncomfortable as he realises nobody wants him.
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Last week on Junior Apprentice: Art, arrogance and arseholes.
The task opens in Amsterdam, which leads the teams to consider all the things that they’d do over there: Tim puts on a rubbish Dutch accent and Emma would sell windmills and clogs. If Adam hadn’t been sent home the other day, he’d probably have gone on a three-week drugs and hookers binge culminating in a vomiting experience over the Anne Frank museum and a hasty cover-up with Nick Hewer to prevent a diplomatic incident.
They arrive in a Dragon’s Den-esque warehouse to be confronted by a serious looking Hewer, Karren Brady and a video recording of Alan, because he can’t be arsed to fly out. Who can blame him, KLM are rubbish. In fact, their first class bit is the same as the rest of the plane but with a curtain drawn across so the snobs don’t have to look at the plebs.
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Previously on Junior Apprentice: Cupcakes, cock-ends and crap cupcake costumes.
The children of the damned arrive at the David Beckham Academy for the most tenuous of reasons: the academy is there to spot the talent of the future, and that’s what they’ll be doing. With art. “I wonder if David will be there”, muses one contestant. She’s disappointed. There’s no David Beckham. Instead, there’s a crotchety old midget in a suit, there to bark orders at them like a pissed off hedgehog.
Tim, the wolf-man that shirks responsibility at every opportunity, is project managing midget Kirsty and eerie blonde Hannah. He’s not happy about being PM, and later complains that he was forced to make all the awkward decisions. The poor sod.
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Previously on Junior Apprentice: Camping! Campness! Cardboard! Reinforced Cardboard!
This week, our intrepid teams of the weird, bullied and damned are sent to Oxford Street, to ice and sell cupcakes. VALUE ADDED cupcakes, as Lord Alan keeps mentioning.
Rhys is hounded into being project manager for his team, because he once worked in a kitchen. He also ends up not working in the kitchen.
On the other team, Lipstick and Emma Walker (16, sells eggs and sweets) get into a pissing match over who bakes the most cakes. “I like baking.” “Well, I love baking.” “I REALLY love baking.” Eventually Emma Walker (16, sells eggs and sweets) gives up, because she’s used her quota of words for the series. Lipstick takes centre stage once again. Squee, pretty, etc.
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Nine junior horrors, one job (not actually a job, because even Lord Alan’s not mental enough to hire a foetus to work on whatever Amstrad do these days) and just a couple of weeks to pick one out to be… the Junior Apprentice.
Previously on Junior Apprentice: Cheese. Sales. Puns. Tears. Jordan De Courcy.
Zoe, played by Robyn caked in lipstick, answers the phone while the camera hovers for an uncomfortably long time staring at her arse. It follows her upstairs as she wakes the boys up, who are already dressed in suits. They’ve probably been in them all night, waiting for the Lord Sugar batsymbol to appear in the sky, calling for them. It’d be in the shape of a barrow.
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Remember when you were 16? It was just like Skins, right? An orgy of drugs, violence and sex. Or, like 95% of people on the Internet, it was furtive, frantic masturbation the moment you were alone and trying to get served in pubs.
You probably didn’t spend those precious years running an international importing and distribution business. If you thought the dicks on The Apprentice were hateful turds, The Junior Apprentice is sure to boil your piss in new ways. It’s one thing when the back-stabbing business-botherers are ten years older than you, but when they look like they’ve rolled on set straight from an episode of Grange Hill, it’s somewhat dispiriting.
Yes, it’s The Junior Apprentice, in which six teenagers prove they have the mettle to argue with Lord Alan, who sits peering and at them and scrutinising like a fussy paedophile, while Karren Brady, with her daft spelling, glares at them like Margaret Mountford, only older and weirder.
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Danny Dyer is our favourite actor, mostly because he seems genuinely confused between ‘pretending to be hard in a film’ and ‘real life’.
He probably imagines that when he’s out shopping, he can’t resist a cheeky Cockney smile before battering the butcher with his own cleaver, and coming out with an incomprehensible witticism.
Implausibly, Danny has turned his gangster hand away from guns, but towards his keyboard, to put together a weekly column for Zoo magazine, covering such important issues as ‘how many sausages should you have on a fry up?’ (at least four) and ‘If I was Prime Minister…’ (‘legalise cannabis’ and ‘castrate anyone caught noncing’.)
The bit that’s got everyone all in a twizzle though is his rubbish agony uncle column, ‘Ask Danny’…
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There are loads of reasons to be proud of being British. An army of lads taking over an Eastern European capital on a stag do; lazy racism perpetuated through newspapers; the BNP.
The one thing that really does make us bloody brilliant is music.
Popstars eh, aren’t they just wonderful? With all their singing and dancing and sitting on tour-coaches and tolerating interviews with Jonathan Ross. Plus the other stuff they, um, probably do. The ultra rich need a night of free alcohol and to celebrate each other’s wonderfulness, before the inevitable decline towards cruise ships and the Line Up round on Buzzcocks. And so, the Brits. The painful pseudo-live event that reminds everyone involved just how fleeting fame is. JLS will be watching the 2012 Brits on their sofa at home, bitterly Tweeting about Geri Halliwell.
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Previously on Junior Apprentice: Flogging, fighting and fannying.
