The Apprentice Series 6: Episode One, sort-of-liveblogged

Hello hello!

I’d like to have liveblogged Wednesday’s episode but (rather excitingly) the Guardian gave me a mission. Yes, I’m no longer Lady Ribenaberet. I’m now *drumroll*…

Supercommenter Ribenaberet!

A new job title, and I didn’t even have to go through 12 weeks worth of demeaning tasks in order to get it. In your face, Apprentice candidates!

As part of my new role, I sift through the pebble-strewn, gravelly river bed of the comment box looking for comedy gold to bring to the attention of Liveblog Queen (and enemy of Norway) Heidi Stephens, offering up my bits of treasure as a comment roundup every 15 minutes.

I’m literally twelve hundred million percent excited to be given this task however, it did mean I didn’t take in much of Wednesday night’s episode.

So, for my sins, I’m going to watch it again. I know who gets Fiyud, obv, but that’s pretty much the only thing I took in so I will still be viewing it with largely fresh eyes – or at the very least, eyes that are in the ‘reduced to clear’ section but still have a few hours left on their best before date.

On with the not-liveblog! (Or ‘deadblog’- credit to @manytypesoftea for that one) I promise not to pause it or cheat in any way- and not just because the batteries have gone in my TV remote.

Here we go! I’m pressing play on the digibox…

“I’m not just a corporate clone,” says a corporate clone in a Burton suit.

“My first word wasn’t mummy. It was MONEY”, says a total git.

Aaahhh, yeah. That’s it. That’s what I’ve been missing. The clarion call of complete twuntiness. Lovely stuff.

They’re in the board room. At midnight! How alarming. Has Suralun turned into a vampire? It’s hard to tell, he looks about a trillion years old at the best of times.

Yes, Suralun (I can’t quite bring myself to call him Lord Sugar–I’m a creature of habit, plus it makes him sound like a pimp).

He reveals the the reason for the midnight board meeting: he’s sending them to an all night sausage emporium where they’ll make some delicious meaty treats to flog to unsuspecting passers by the next morning.

Sausages, he tells us, sell in bucketloads.

Do they? I thought they were sold in little polystyrene trays covered in cling film. But what do I know, I’m not in charge of Top Electronics Company Amstrad, inventors of the Em@iler.

“I am Stuart Baggs, the Brand.”

No mate, sorry. You’ll be Stuart Baggins: the Hobbit, because that’s the nickname I’ve assigned you.

A man with hectic eyebrows informs us that people like him don’t come along very often. He has a ‘unique blend of creativity and commercial nouce’, he asserts- before coming up with the most imaginative sausage-title ever: Britain’s Best Bangers.

Hmmm. Yes. Well done. As brand names go, that’s barely a step up from writing the word ‘sausages’ onto some chipolatas with a black marker pen.

Team name time.  I’m certain we’ll get some interesting, thought provoking ones this year. Surely by series six, all the corporate buzzwords in the English language must have already been used (with the exception of Innovise and Conceptulate, which I just made up).

Nope. I was wrong. It’s the same old nonsense: Synergy, Fusion, Apollo, Smithfield Meat Market- nightclub managers across Leeds are writing them all down as we speak…although to be fair, if I was asked to come up with a team name at 2am I’d probably just scrawl ‘Whaaaaaaa? Blibble” on a napkin, hand it to the producers and go to sleep.

Synergy and Apollo then play the famous game: ‘Who Wants to be the Team Leader?’ It’s like Who Wants To Be A Millionaire, but instead of winning a million pounds you just get shouted at and, ultimately, fired.

Dan and Joanna volunteer. Have they learned nothing? Lurk in the background for the first few tasks at least, but not too far back. The middleground. Yes- lurk there.

“Let’s get the sausages sorted,” says Joanna. That’s my favourite quote of the night so far. I can totally see it on a motivational poster- Sausages: Let’s Get Them Sorted.

Joanna and the rest of her team are grilling a butcher about meat (instead of grilling some meat from a butcher). She discovers that if their product actually contains meat then they can call them ‘gourmet’ sausages. So they abruptly up the meat content to 70% in a sudden decision that has Nick rolling his eyes. What, no costing?

Oh, how I’ve missed those eyebrow arches and eye rolls. *fans self*

The boys are sticking with ‘bargain bangers’, aka gristly tubes filled with sawdust, floor scrapings and cow knees. Nom.

5.30am- they’re getting a crash course in sausage making. Team leader Dan starts shouting for absolutely no discernible reason in some kind of attempt to show that he’s literally a million percent assertive. Or something.

“Who’s doing the mincing?!” he yodels. He’s clearly not aware of the irony here- the last person I saw wearing a hair net like Dan’s was my gay friend Brian.

The meat grinding and sausage creation begins- suddenly everything starts to resemble a porn version of the Saw films. Thank goodness I’ve not had my dinner yet, I feel rather unwell.

The boys put a handful of mince in a mixer, then about three sacks of something that looks like cat litter. Yuck.  I’m never eating sausages again. Not even Linda McCartney ones- you can’t be too careful.

Bigface Dan is having some trouble. His meat’s too hard. He possibly looked at Paloma’s ‘bulging bangers’ for too long.

Yes, the innuendo really is that obvious. It’s like watching Carry On Apprenticing.

“What are these sausages?” says Dan. “Apple?”

I second that. Seriously- what are they? Are they even sausages? They look…hideous, and weirdly orange. A bit like Jordan, in fact.

Maybe Katie Price tumbled into the machine while everyone’s backs were turned.

Morning breaks and the selling begins. And, predictably, it’s terrible. The boys put on ridiculous straw boaters which make them look like 1950s schoolgirls rather than homely village butchers, as I suspect they’d intended.

“I’ll be very annoyed if I trip over,” says a tetchy-voiced Stuart ‘Bilbo’ Baggins to an elderly man.

Well stop walking backwards then, you gimp.

The girls are selling their ‘gourmet’ sausages, but don’t bother firing up the griddle and cooking any samples for some reason.

“Have you tried one?” asks a besuited business type who didn’t have to go on a TV programme to get his job (probably)

“Er…no,” says Girl Team Member #6, in a tone of voice that suggests she’s forgotten what sausages are for.

Back in the boys team, they’re running around London trying to sell sausages to random pubs. For 90p each. 90p for a Katie Price sausage?! They’re having a laugh. You can get 12 brightly coloured offal-tastic ones from a local supermarket for that price.

Mmm, pink food colouring.

Over at the girls stall, a saviour has appeared in a bright white, glowing chef’s uniform. He eats a chilli and chicken sausage, isn’t instantly sick and so they manage to convince him to buy a dozen packs. But not before Joanna and Melissa have a silly, pointless row about ‘closing the sale’.

In contrast, the boys – led by Bigface Dan- have arrived at what looks like a clothes market- are they planning to make their sausages into a Lady Gaga- style meat dress?

They manage to sell a couple of packs in the market before resorting to that Apprentice staple- the panicked, hastily agreed bulk sale in a local business. They sell the remaining Lots of Packs for a measly £53.

The boardroom!

“What’s your team name?” says LordShugga to the girls.


“Well, I hope you got off the launch pad”

Oh, he’s such a one! He should really go into stand up. I’d pay a lot of money to see that. He’d be better than Michael McIntyre, that much is certain.

“What was your team name?” he asks the boys



Um, maybe he’s not ready for an arena tour just yet.

Apollo make a profit of £321.16. But the boys…oh dear… made a profit of £305.90. Poor the boys. Poor Bigface Dan.

Former enemies Melissa and Joanna share a faux-hug in the foyer, overjoyed that their meaty gamble paid off, while the boys trot off to the Cafe of FAIL to have a cup of instant coffee garnished with their own salty tears.

The girls discover they’re staying in a Georgian townhouse in the West End. Phew, that place is seriously lovely. It has a pool! If I had £11.25 million I’d definitely buy that.

“I’m not packing my bags, because I’m not going home”, says Stuart Baggs.

Stuart ‘Empty’ Baggs, more like. Eh? Eh? (thanks to Mads for that gag)

They boys head back into the boardroom, led by Bigface Dan and ‘No Bags’ Baggs.

“The subteam, of which you was the leader, sold naff all,” says SurAlun to Dan, whose giant face seems to be growing ever larger, possibly due to stress.

He’s giving them a right ‘grilling’! Ahahaha (ahem, sorry- I promise not to make any more sausage gags)

They argue about sausage consistency for a while, passing the blame around like a big Parcel of Fail, before deciding that they were poorly managed.

Uh oh, Dan. It’s not looking good. Raleigh ‘Call me Rawley’ Addington hits the nail on the head, calling Dan ‘thuggish’.

Baggins’ aggressive selling style also takes a hit, labelled ‘cringeable’ by moderately good looking member of the boys team who I hadn’t noticed before. I’m pretty sure he just materialised in a haze of Lynx body spray.

Cringeable- that would have been a much better team name. Or possibly ‘Embarrasize” or “Shame-ulate”.

Bigface brings Stuart and Hectic Eyebrows back into the boardroom (sorry, not sure of the latter’s real name).

Dan’s big massive face goes very very red as he tries to defend the fact he didn’t sell anything, despite being a sales director. It’s like looking into the caldera of a volcano.

Ah, Hectic Eyebrows is called Alex. There you go. I will, of course, continue to refer to him as Hectic Eyebrows anyway, but it’s good to know.

They argue for what feels like eleven years, possibly because I already know who’s going and there’s a lack of tension. But more likely because they’re just churning out the usual pleas, threats and promises. “I’m an entrepreneur/ I was fired by one of Britain’s top entrepreneurs/ If you give me a job and I’m shit, I’ll give you your money back”

I’m paraphrasing of course, but you get the idea.

Time for ‘Sugar Sums Up”, with your host- Lord Surallun Sugar:

“Stuart: You’re aggressive”.

“Dan: I’ve looked as your RES-YUME-ey, something something something” (sorry, didn’t hear what he said after that- was too busy laughing at his pronunciation of ‘resume’. Or CV, as we call it in good old Blighty.

“Alex: You didn’t do much on the sales side, you stepped back a bit”.

So, on balance…he fires…


Of course he does. He was the most aggressive team leader since Pol Pot.

Bye Dan!

Well- that’s that then, the first of my twelve not live/slightly deadblogs. Hope you enjoyed! Blimey- 1936 words. I’ll definitely need some deep heat and possibly some supportive finger-tubigrips for next week.

Also, don’t forget to check out the Supercommenting action on the Guardian liveblog on Wednesdays. The most recent liveblog is here, and it’s proper well funny and things.

Nighty night!


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

7 Responses to The Apprentice Series 6: Episode One, sort-of-liveblogged

  1. Apprenticles says:

    Ribs, your talent is wasted as a hidden drone on someone else’s blog.

    • ladyribenaberet says:

      Hush now! I’m not a drone- I’m a SUPERCOMMENTER. Seriously, it’s really flattering that t’Guardian trust my instinct to pick out the funnies. It’s just a shame I can’t be two places at once. Cloning FAIL

  2. Brennig says:

    Quality. Thanks.

  3. kate h says:

    Aaargh. I have evening courses on Wednesdays for the next two months. Oh Lord, why do you mock me so?!!

    • Oh no! No no no! You poor lamb. Maybe we could time it so my lateblog cooincides with you watching it on iPlayer the next day!?

      • kate h says:

        I’ll probably go into monkish seclusion in between coming home and checking out iPlayer. It’s the only way I’ll cope. Knowing my luck, the BBC will have the result as a splash headline.

        I’m sure they could run with ‘Complete Nob Fired From The Apprentice’ without giving the game away.

  4. Pingback: The Apprentice Series 6: Episode Two, sort-of-liveblogged « Brainsquawks

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