The Make

the Apprentice episode 10: the winners are the real losers

2008-05-28T09:11:34Z

Week 10 and The Apprentice is reving up for the final result with its penultimate episode next week. Who'll win? A stubbly, handsome chap or a hormonal, overwrought chappette? That's our choice. Can the best of British business acumen really be found among slop that would grace any Weatherspoon's bar across Britain on a Friday night? It seems so.

]]> Lee "Aaaat's wot aaaaahmm tawkeen 'bowt" McQueen and his team were worthy winners tonight. Well, discounting the Woodpecker. For all Lee has done bad for the English language with his stretching of vowels like they're on a rack, his inane catchphrases and his guttural grammar, he's done good with his "Lucinda 's like a woodpecker" similie. Spot on. (No reference to the man's skin meant there, honest).

But while team Renaiassance quaffed the grape in triumphal glee, I soberly bemoaned the fizzless finale that looms upon us. The best candidates for the job of Apprentice have already gone. Or should I say the candidates that kept us best amused and bemused at Alan Sugar's expense.

Army man Simon was sent marching - just imagine watching at that man's fragile nerves being twanged for the whole series. Sharp-dresser Raef's made his even sharper exit. And Alan Sugar finally did what he should have done weeks ago and fired Michael. It was like watching Darth Vader cut the hand off his own son in Empire Strikes Back all over.

If there was one contestant that the Force was not with, it was Michael Sophocles. What planet was the kid on? A high-performance luxury sports cars, a sandwich board and a fruit n veg market. You gotta be havin' a laff, ain't ya? This was car-crash salesmanship and a forehead-slapping pantomine swansong for The Soph.

Worse was to come. In a moment that will shame his (allegedly) Jewish momma for years, her favourite Bar Mitzvah boy went ankle hugging for a £67 sale in Portobello Market. Oy veh!

Miraculously Michael nearly survived again. Mind you, that was more testament to the grouchy and highly unlikeable totem pole that is Helene. You want to reach out and hug that woman like you do cacti. Alan Sugar was being benign when he quipped she had the posture of the Mona Lisa. The moaning loser more like. She'll be boardroom mince this time next week for sure.

My two for the top are Lee and Lucinda. Sounding like a Sixties pop duo I admit but there you have it. I'll take either one of them over Claire, Helene or Alex. But, as I've already said, the best in terms of pure entertainment value have gone already.

gleaning amusement from a downbeat Sunday

2008-05-26T07:06:47Z

Well. The Sunday papers were particularly depressing yesterday. Fatal teen stabbing, a precipitous rise in dementia, the inexorable prospect of Prime Minister David Cameron. Ugh.

So I just skimmed those headlines and focused on the the entertaining ones. Obviously.

]]> Mail On Sunday].

- John McCain invited all the folks who might make potential veeps over to his ranch for a barbecue. He says it's just a social event, perhaps because he's embarrassed to admit that he's selecting his running mate based on who eats the most pork ribs in order to court the very substantial obesity vote [Observer].

- Celia Walden pouts with Robert Cavalli aboard his yacht at Cannes, by sheer coincidence writes fawning profile [Sunday Telegraph].

- Craig, judge from Strictly Come Dancing, was a drag queen and a prostitute, he reveals in his new autobiography. The NOTW reacts in signature style, highlighting the most shocking aspects of the lurid tale in bold capital letters: not only did he start hustling at SEVENTEEN but when he was a DRAG QUEEN he wore ELBOW-LENGTH GLOVES. I feel a bit faint [News of the World].

small American city hits big screen, natives hysterical with joy

2008-05-24T17:42:25Z

Could I be more excited about Charlie Kaufman's new film, which has just debuted in Cannes and which is going to win the Palme d'Or in a sort of indifferent fashion? No, I could not, because although Synecdoche, New York has been described in the Guardian as "difficult to say and even harder to understand" it is set in my very own funny little home town of Schenectady, New York. You have no idea how thrilling this is...
]]> Located at the intersection of the Hudson and Mohawk Rivers, about three and a half hours' drive north of Manhattan, Schenectady was an erstwhile haunt of Thomas Edison (lightbulb inventor, innit) and indeed once a booming hotbed of home appliance production down at the General Electric plant, until they discovered the joys of outsourcing manufacturing overseas and the place became all crumbly and depressing and riddled with unemployment. Today it boasts a thriving Guyanese immigrant community and a not very good school system and one or two quite bad home-style Italian restaurants. It had few redeeming qualities. Until Hollywood discovered it!

Says Philip Seymour Hoffman, the star, on the film "there is a sense of continuous heartbreak that you can't put your finger on," which pretty much describes my little hometown to a tee, also. I hope they are giving Kaufman and Co a key to the city: I can't help but swell with pride at the prospect that cinema-goers around the world will be able to feel the tragedy of that little, never-very-good-in-the-first-place-but-definitely-now-rubbish-city that I grew up in and escaped. I just hope the town still has a cinema to screen it in.

[Photo courtesy Matthew Bradley's Flickr stream]

sexpresso joint will perk you right up

2008-05-23T11:51:39Z

Having spent several months of my lost youth behind the counter at a ubiquitous coffee chain, I always like to keep abreast of developments in the world of barista-ing. Or in this case, a-breast.

]]> The controversial strategy of one espresso-pusher to draw in the caffiendicts with bikini-clad young ladies makes me feel a little unsettled. It's not because they'll be making a load in tips (fair enough, I say, you might as well exploit your customers' low inclinations) but because the potential for seriously awkward cleavage burns is extensive if you don't know how to handle that steam nozzle just right.

Potential customers in the state of Washington are unsettled for reasons different from mine, complaining in that special Puritanical American way that I love so much:

"I'm not against people making money," said Kimberly Gainza, 37, of Everett. "What I'm against is how they're going about doing it. It's not right -- on a road where everybody can see."

Ah, bless. Fortunately for Puritanical English types, health and safety statutes mean this will likely never be legal in England.

[Photo from Ahmed Rabea's Flickr stream]

literary page-turners battle for minor recognition

2008-05-22T15:33:25Z

Hurrah! If you were troubled at the thought that the world doesn't have quite enough book prizes, there's yet another one to add to your betting calendar.
It's the Desmond Elliot Prize, which will be rewarding writers whose first novels have "both literary and page-turning value".

That sounds nice. But, um, what exactly does it mean?

]]> Child 44 Tom Rob Smith is pegged a dead cert FTW by those key arbiters of literary taste, William Hill.

There are only two other books on the shortlist itself, of which one is notably Gifted by Booker also-ran Nikita Lalwani. But hang on. Can we conclude from this that the other first novels which appeared on the last Booker longlist were not very page-turning indeed? Difficult for me to say with authority - I didn't read 'em, since they all looked a bit dull.

[Books courtesy Phil Moore's Flickr stream]

nasal spray promises to increase charity mugger takings

2008-05-22T15:23:31Z

What does it say about me that when I read about a fascinating new scientific breakthrough, I immediately begin pondering the deviant possibilities?

]]> Researchers in Zurich have discovered that it is possible to deliver oxycontin - that's the hormone that makes you feel all warm and fuzzy when you're in love - through a nasal spray. Spritz it up your nose and then suddenly your guard is down, you're filled with feelings of affectionness and openness towards other, and the next thing you know you'll be happily handing over your cash to them, even if you know that they're crooks (yes, they really demonstrated this last point in the study).

And sure, the plan for this drug is to help people with social phobias, which is heartwarming. But can't you imagine the black market potential? Enterprising types pounding the streets of London and New York with small spray bottles clasped in sweaty palms, looking for the flaring nostrils of innocent passers-by? Charity muggers must be rejoicing. If this stuff hits the market, I'm going to never go out sans surgical mask.

[Photo from Drift Words' Flickr stream]

time to start taking Eurovision seriously

2008-05-21T17:41:56Z

It's been a long time, hasn't it, since any of us in the English-speaking world took the Eurovision Song Contest seriously? Sure, we all cuddle up on the sofa to watch the institution that brought us Abba, playing drinking games that involve necking shots of vodka every time a marginal post-Soviet republic trots out a man in spangles. It's a well-loved tradition.

But with the likes of Javine being trotted out in recent years to compete on our behalf, the fact that the British Isles continue to field competitors is, at best, a bit patronising - if we really wanted to win, of course, we'd draft in Amy Winehouse.

But maybe this insouciant approach to a competition that apparently means something to the rest of the entrants will have to be rethought, after the shocking result of today's semi-finals.

]]> With multiple wins over the years, one would think that the Irish knew what they were up against. But their entry of Dustin The Turkey, a puppet who has been singing for years, received a resounding smackdown when he (it? they?) was resoundingly knocked out of the competition with null points. Indeed, the Irish effort was judged pale even in comparison to the contributions of nations that you should not be ashamed to never have heard of, like Azerbijian.

A deserved loss? Or a strong statement from our European neighbours that they will not tolerate the epic, beloved competition being regarded as some kind of piss-take? Even one Irish Eurovision pundit expressed public disapproval of Dustin's performance, describing it as a 'three-minute joke that wasn't especially funny.'

But does the Azerbijiani singer have six albums of material released already? Dustin does. I'm sure that I'm not his only longtime fan who smells a conspiracy theory, a backlash against intentional hilarity. If I were Terry Wogan, I'd be watching my back.

[Photo courtesy Mark Sardella's Flickr stream]

Gary Kasparov attacked by flying penis

2008-05-20T20:25:05Z

Political "dirty tricks" have hit a new low. Yes, we all know Russia is rather quickly falling behind in the democracy stakes, but this... well, this is something else. Radiation-poisoning dissidents, murdering troublesome journalists: terrible, tragic, hard to laugh at. Menacing Kremlin critics with an air-borne phallus, it's awful, childish provocation. Yet it is still a flying dick. A cock with wings. Who could not suppress a snigger? ]]>

The attack happened as professional Putin-baiter Gary Kasparov addressed an audience of anti-Kremlin dissidents, it is believed the sick stunt was organized by a pro-Kremlin, youth gang. After the penis-copter was destroyed by an assistant the former chess champion turned political dissident managed to get the last laugh, quipping:

"We have to be thankful for the opposition's demonstration of the type of discourse we can anticipate. Also, apparently most of their arguments are located beneath the belt."

[Image: RFE/RL]

Thanks Cherie, we'll call you ok?

2008-05-20T15:22:35Z

Cherie Blair took her excellent autobiography to Lorraine Kelly's show this morning and promptly went about setting the record straight. Discussing how contraception and the ability of women to control their fertility was very important, she was apparently unaware that she'd told the whole world she was too embarrassed to take her contraception to Balmoral, and thus ended up getting pregnant.

Lest any of you doubt her good intentions, we want to say, emphatically, that this is in no way similar to teenage girls who know they should use condoms but are too embarrassed to ask a boy to use one.

when the going gets tough, the slebs publish

2008-05-20T10:05:14Z

One of the nicest things about England is the way that we let even our most inexplicable celebrities reinvent themselves through publishing, despite the fact the book sales (and literacy rates) are flagging a little

]]> Heather ~~McCartney~~ Mills is getting her very own ghostwriter to produce a 'lifestyle' book with her face splashed on the cover, offering a whole 64 pages of inspired advice including: 'Spring is in the air and this is a time for change' and, presumably, 'reach for the stars'.

[Image from unity.project's Flickr stream]

defying his gender, BoJo continues to multi-task

2008-05-20T07:00:00Z

Never known for resting on his laurels while at work, it seems that London's new great leader has decided that overseeing the undertakings of a city that has a population larger than about half the world's nations is not really something that is going to keep him sufficiently occupied.
]]> Telegraph.

While the reader of said column will no doubt be sighing with relief that his journalistic hero will not be depriving him of a reason to live, the other few million of us might wonder if this is why we voted for Boris (or, you know, not), despite the Mayor's pledge that he'll just be "churning out a column" on Sunday evenings. Not to mention odds are that he will probably not attending the House of Commons at all (par for the course, it seems).

Clearly we're not giving BoJo enough mayoral responsibility if he really feels so relaxed about his new gig that he can continue to multi-task in other fields. The answer, clearly, is to extend his remit. I suggest he starts, if his Sundays are going spare, by personally patrolling the Number 8 night bus for alcohol use.

The question: Is being mayor of London a full-time job? (Guardian)

innovation down under continues to impress

2008-05-19T13:42:14Z

Sometimes I wonder if Britain wouldn't be rather more fun if they hadn't banished all of those marginal bread-thieves to Australia, but rather let them stay here, so that we could benefit, firsthand, from the particular brand of genius of their descendants.

]]> Corey Delaney, I'm quite touched by the today's news out of Sydney that someone has finally come up with a solution to that age-old dilemma: your dog is your best friend, you like to drink beer with your friends, but you can't drink beer with your dog. The brow furrows.

These charming pet store owners have had a big think and worked really hard and now their mothers must be ever so proud because their unique product has hit the shelves. It's beef flavoured! It fizzes! It's dog beer!

But don't fret: it is non-alcoholic and won't actually make Fido intoxicated, so you can get yourself into a drunken haze without worrying that he'll commit DUI or engage in a liaison that will result in some kind of awkward-looking mongrel.

[Photo (c) Christiane Bode 2008]

the Conservative revolution starts in our closets

2008-05-19T11:36:41Z

Forgive me for being confused. Last week, of course, the Mail was raking Caroline Flint over the coals for her profligate wearing of more than one outfit - clear evidence that she was a brazen hussy in addition to being possibly a bit crap at housing policy.

But today, they've changed their tack: Labour ladies, it seems, are unacceptably dowdy, particularly in contrast with the delicate blooms of the Conservative Party. ]]> have got their left-wing counterparts trumped in the style stakes. Harriet Harman looked perfectly dumpy in that stab-proof vest she was seen out in recently, and Jacqui Smith and Ruth Kelly aren't doing much better.

In contrast, paragons of Conservative lady-virtue such as Kirstie Allsop and Marina Johnson and style maven and certain future first lady Samantha Cameron look gorgeous in their 'splashy florals' and 'colourful coats', not to mention that they are admirably not worrying their pretty little heads about policy issues.

And don't think this won't resonate in the next election. Explains journalistess Karen Wheeler, 'It is easy to relate to girls' girls such as Kirstie Allsopp and Samantha Cameron. We're still not entirely sure what her husband stands for, but we can easily imagine ourselves sharing a bottle of Chablis and girly chat with her.'

It almost makes you wish that women had the right to vote.

[Image from jaygalvin's Flickr photostream]

Sunday papers in sum: baby mice and inbreeding

2008-05-19T05:28:57Z

It was a happy day for the bride and groom, a sad day for inbreeding: Peter Phillips' marriage to Autumn Kelly, a Canadian girl of modest parentage, was heralded as evidence of a new trend in the Royals spicing up the bloodlines with sub-aristos. [Observer]

In an act of bold-faced revenge against cheating husband Ashley Cole, Cheryl Cole of Girls Aloud fame has been caught on video smooching the bald pate of a bible-thumping American wannabe actor, who had no idea who she was but did possess the foresight to film and flog their encounter. [News of the World]

Acronym alert: environmentally-aware people with designer shoes and concerns that they carry their imported raspberries in the right hempen bags are henceforth to be known as 'Socially Conscious Upwardly Mobile Persons', or 'Scuppies'. I still prefer to call them 'Guardian readers'. [Sunday Times]

Amy Winehouse and Pete Doherty do creepy things with baby mice and are also filmed, natch, prompting the RSPCA to make a statement about the negative effect that 'strange human smells' may have on the wee innocent rodents. Amy and Pete no doubt prefer to think of themselves as 'fabulously eccentric' rather than 'strange', however, so are blameless. [Independent on Sunday]

Noted environmental scientist (and scuppie?) Prince Charles has announced that global natural disaster will strike in eighteen months if climate change is not reversed. Thank goodness he's doing his part with those yummy sausages. [Sunday Telegraph]

Morrissey / NME feud reaches amusing new level of pettiness

2008-05-16T14:28:11Z

When Morrissey sang "I bear more grudges than lonely high court judges" on his 1994 hit "The More You Ignore Me The Closer I Get" he certainly wasn't joking. Since the New Music Express alleged that his views on immigration could be construed as a little bit racist the fun hasn't stopped. First came the threats of legal action, then there was the Love Music, Hate Racism business, now if Moz has his way, NME editor Connor MacNicholas is going to find it hard to find a place to sleep in Los Angeles.

]]> found himself without a room. Moz's people are more than happy to admit that they pulled a few strings to get the hack ejected. Merck Mercuriadis, Morrissey's spokesperson:
"I have a very good relationship with the hotel, and when I explained the situation they agreed it would not be appropriate for Conor to stay."
Unfortunately, for Morrissey, MacNicholas given a better suite at a better hotel as way of an apology. Let's chalk this one up as a no score draw, aye lads?

The video for, the rather wonderful, The More You Ignore Me The Closer I Get

[Image: Perou / Retna]