Junior Apprentice: Week Four

 

Gah! Have been wrestling with a completely dead Virgin media box for half an hour before remembering I didn’t need it to watch t’Apprentice, what with BBC1 being terrestrial and all. I feel most vexed. Not to mention stupid.

9.04pm- The youthful, bright eyed Minishuggas are carted to the David Beckham soccer academy to talk about…er, art, of all things.

They’ve really given up even pretending to disguise the product placements, haven’t they?

Emma is placed in charge of VanillaImpulse- sorry, Revolution. Tim is in charge of Puberty or whatever the heck the boys’ team used to be called. They have to arrange an art viewing, whittling down six potential artists to two, then identifying and inviting potential buyers to a viewing the next day.

Tim freely admits that he knows about as much about art as a cheesecake knows about quantum physics. However, VanillaImpulse have a secret weapon: Zoe the Ice Queen. Her parents either are artists, or like art, or have something to do with art, or make crayons or something. Sorry, didn’t quite catch the details there. But needless to say, she’s more arty than the secret love child of Van Gogh and Rolf Harris.

Yes. THAT arty.

She’s apparently ‘on a mission to fulfil her artistic potential’. Er….ok. How, exactly? By wearing a beret and occasionally pursing her lips?

Over on the other Team (TeamTim), he and Hannah are chatting to an artist. Well, Tim’s doing most of the talking, with Hannah marginalised, like a doodle by Leonardo Da Vinci (he used to doodle a lot. In the margins. Look it up).

WHAT? The crazy artist that Kirsty had been sent to see regularly masquerades as a pet/housesitter, then pretends she’s the owner of the house, wears their clothes and hires a photographer to come and take a portrait of her. Holding their cat or whatever. That seems a bit….odd.

“She’s not an artist, she’s a criminal!” shrieks Tim when he’s told about this. I think they’ll end up declining her services, which is a bleedin’ shame as it’s that kind of bladdy nonsense what sells art these days, ain’t it?

Sorry, was channelling Lord Sugar for a minute there.

“The black is holding the colours back, in a way,” says Tim at another artists studio.

Just say what you see, Tim. Say what you see. Watch Mr Chips…

He seems to have labelled Hannah as his ‘secretary’, for some baffling, overconfident reason. If I were her I’d stab him in the leg with a biro and then rip his silly fake beard off.

Kirsty is still working away on her own, offending artists left, right and centre. “How much is it? Right. I don’t like art. Yeah? Ok. Bye.”

Tim: “Have you been schmoozing the artists?”

Kirsty: “Oh yes. That last one more than any.”

I really wouldn’t like to see her when she was setting out to be abrupt. She probably wouldn’t even speak- just make a series of strange growling noises, spit, punch someone and leave.

Kirsty’s tense manner means they didn’t manage to line up Tom Lewis, who is, apparently ‘very Brick Lane,’ according to Nick. How does Nick know? He doesn’t seem very trendy, frankly. He looks like a bank manager from the past, the kind who’d purse their lips at you if you asked them for a loan, then look at a piece of paper and tut.

They’ve picked the artists. Emma’s team are going for expensive abstracts and some ‘cheap urban prints’. Shouldn’t that be Printz? Yo, I’m totally urban. Word.

With one hour left, they’re yet to line up any buyers. They turn to the traditional Apprentice technique of random cold calling- not quite sure how random. They possibly ended up phoning a Dagenham housewife  and a Greggs the bakers in Wigan.

“I was wondering if you’d like to come down and enjoy some art, have some food, blah blah blah beard beard,” says Tim boredly to (possibly) a customer service assistant at an Asda in Weybridge.

9.25pm- The next morning dawns and the youthful, merry little hobbits leap into action. Hannah’s placed in charge of leafleting. A slight step up from being Tim’s ‘secretary’ then. She’s doing it with whatever the opposite of aplomb is. Notplomb?

In the other team, installation artist Mark Melvin turns up to check out Zoe’s handiwork. She’d put herself in charge of hanging his pieces but got a few the wrong way round. Ah, sod him- it’s modern art, no one would care. Or notice. The punters are only buying it to hang in a pretentious Hoxton gastropub, for flip’s sake.

WAY TO STRESS OUT A CHILD MARK, YEAH? Twunt.

The viewing starts and Lady Beigeberet is selling the affordable £120 ‘Urban Printzzz’. She’s doing well.

Over in Brick Lane, TeamTim are waving canapes at an almost empty room whilst saying things like ‘yeah, blue’s my favourite colour too. Hur hur.”

They seem to have picked the priciest art, rather than ‘edgy Brick Lane printzzzz’, etc. Their gallery has all the glitz and glamour of a bus stop and they clearly don’t have a Bladdy Clue. Not a bladdy clue!

Sorry, channelling Lord Sugar again there. I really must hire an exorcist.

It’s Emma Who Sells Eggs and Sweets again! I’d forgotten about her rather bizarre business claim to fame. She’s complaining about Zoe usurping her but I failed to note exactly what she said as I was chuckling about the fact she sells Eggs. And sweets. But not chicken or chocolate, clearly, as that would be odd.

Tim’s ‘slightly’ worried that he’s not sold anything yet. He calls a bar owner who hasn’t shown up and asks him where he is. The chap makes that inward hissing noise so beloved of plumbers. You can almost hear him shaking his head on the other end of the line and wincing. “I’m stuck in traffic,” he says.

He’s not.

Tim half-begs one of the artists to give 30% off to an incredibly pushy, slightly drunk blonde lady who vaguely resembles JK Rowling. So that’s what she’s up to these days. The artist looks glum, but Tim is sweating relief, sieving it through his beard and drinking it like success-juice. Or something. Sorry, all this art talk has made me a bit abstract.

Oh look! The barman. He’s shown up with 5 minutes to spare. God only knows what Tim had to offer him to get him to show up. God only knows…

The barman buys two paintings! Hot damn. Tim makes a sudden £1000 on two Andy Taylor photos. Phew!

9.37pm- The boardroom. Zoe calmly announces to the VT that she doesn’t think there’s any way that the other candidates will turn on her as she was very fair, etc. Hmmm, if this were a film we’d immediately jump cut to a scene where the other two rip her LIMB FROM LIMB. But we’re not, so we have to sit through a rather samey boardroom session instead. Sorry about that.

“The kind of art I like has the Queen’s head in the middle and a 50 in one corner.”

Does he mean stamps, or £50 notes?  £50 notes don’t have her head in the middle, it’s off to one side. So he must mean stamps. Weirdo.

Arjun says he negotiated on the price but that Mark Melvin (upside down rubbish installation man) wouldn’t budge. LurdShugga says that TeamTim managed to get up to 30% off. TeamEmma look a bit nervous…

But it was ALL A RUSE. Naughty Surallun. Revolution (aka TeamEmma) made six grand and roundly beat Tim’s team.

Revolution head off to their prize. They’re going to have tailored suits made by someone or other that will make them look even more like miniaturised yuppies. Well, better than lunch with Richard Branson I suppose…

Over in the FailCafe, Tim’s team drink instant coffee out of polystyrene cups. He says it was a shame no one came in and spent several grand. Yes Tim. It’s also a shame a magical unicorn made of platinum didn’t show up and crap a handful of diamonds into your lap.

9.46pm- back in the boardroom. Tim says he trusted Kirsty to do a good job on her own.

She didn’t. If they’d have got that last chap to agree to sell his art to them, apparently the trendy Brick Lane types would have ridden up on magical, cash-crapping unicorns and fought each other to the death for a tiny scrap of canvas.

“Kirsty, here’s some feedback. You didn’t look at the product, you didn’t look at him,” says LurdShugga.

The Shugganator blames Tim for picking Kirsty, who says she’s ‘not good at  schmoozing’.

Is that how you spell it, by the way? Shmoozing. Schmooooooozing. Shhhhh-moozing. Hmmm, well, whatever. She’s not good at pretending to be nice to people, and that’s all there is to it. Artists? They should all get proper jobs working in whisky distilleries or in the Glasgow docks or something. Yeah. Load of rubbish *kicks canvas in, punches some people*.

“I felt I had to make all the important decisions,” whines Tim. Yes, you were team leader, you CHUMP. Also, you didn’t delegate at all. You had Hannah taking minutes and leafleting, whilst smirking about how you were ‘da boss.’

Kirsty: “I’ve been on the losing team three times…”

Don’t say that! That’s not a good opener, petal. Oh deary, deary me.

Shugga said she sent the wrong messages to the people she went to see. Like she’d just shove their art in a skip or draw on it with crayons or something.

He then turns to Tim and tells him he’s rubbish too but it’s allmisdirectionbecauseheactuallyfires

HANNAH!

For no reason whatsoever.

Sigh. Surely Tim or Kirsty should have gone! And by ‘or Kirsty’, I mean ‘Tim’. So basically it should have between Tim and Tim. Or possibly Tim.

Hannah is whisked away in the Shugga mobile, clasping a ‘Lord Sugar of Clapton’ business card mournfully.

If there’s a less distinguished sounding Lordship out there, I’m yet to encounter it. Possibly Lord Twatt of Balls Green. Possibly.

Anyway chaps, hope you had fun. Tune in next week for another thrilling installment of Some-Children-Sell-Things-To-People-And-Then-A-Bit-Later-On-A-Short-Gruff-Man-Tells-Them-They’re-Rubbish-At-Selling-Things-To-People (as Junior Apprentice was originally going to be titled).

BYE!

Advertisements

About Hilary Wardle
Hilary is a freelance journalist and copywriter who writes for a wide range of websites, magazines and newspapers, including Buzzfeed, MSN, The Poke, Chortle, the Guardian and the Independent. She specialises in arts and entertainment, comedy, video games and viral content. Contact her at Hilary3@gmail.com.

7 Responses to Junior Apprentice: Week Four

  1. Apprenticles says:

    Both my parents are artists, my brother is a professional artist, my mate’s a piss artist, I’m a bullshit artist …

  2. Mads says:

    Zoe is proper scary, man. She’s so aware of the camera, it’s like every facial expression is followed by an evil aside. *smile smile smile SCOWL SCOWL SCOWL BWAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!*

    Chilling.

  3. Moviejam says:

    ‘Hot damn.’ Lucky I’d peed before reading.

  4. KJ Elsdon says:

    Hilarious, as usual! I also thought that the artist/criminal would have been a better bet, mostly because most of her photos featured pets and everyone loves an animal!

  5. Garagegirl says:

    Love this blog, you write really well and it always makes me grin!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: