The Apprentice review – Lord Sugar is a human sausage machine

Here we go again, then: The Apprentice (BBC1), series 12, and a fresh consignment of tossers descending on the capital with their wheelie suitcases stuffed full of confidence and bullshit. They have upped the bombast levels, gone martial. Former karate champion Frances is “really not afraid of a fight”. Paul definitely doesn’t “shy away from conflict”, while Aleksandra says: “the sheer energy that I am going to bring is going to mimic that of a nuclear explosion.” Jessica says a lot of people underestimate her, “and then I pull out the [puts on American accent] big guns and always tend to get my way.”

Lovely.

Karthik – Special K – says he’s an “an emperor”. Like the one without the new clothes, Karthik? Actually, that’s not a bad idea, Naked Apprentice, maybe that’s what Channel 4 will do when they nick it.

Anyway, now they’re all in the boardroom for the first time, and Lord Sugar is looking over their CVs. Oliver runs a cumberland sausage company, Lord Sugar likes cumberland sausages. Another candidate, JD, lists “gumption and balls” among his attributes. “Sounds like some of the contents of Ollie’s sausages,” says Sugar. Hey, not a bad one – all yours? He’s on a (sausage?) roll with the gags. The boys have called themselves Team Titan. “So Oliver, are you Porcos, the Greek god of sausages, or something?” That one doesn’t go down so well.

He – Lord Sugar – is a human sausage machine. The ingredients are fed in, the handle turned, and out it comes – not cumberland, something plainer and straighter that can be twisted off in short, manageable units. It still gets stuck, or splits, occasionaly. Time for a new machine, perhaps, and a new recipe?

I know it still does very well, because it is still undeniably entertaining, but that doesn’t mean it’s still interesting. Oh, and the task. Bargain Hunt, basically. Here’s some stuff, sell it, you win, don’t sell it, you’re fired. Same old. The tasks could do with some refreshing, too; something more now, selling arms to Saudi Arabia, say; they’ve shown they’ve got the war talk for it.

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More interesting, oddly, is Anne Robinson’s Britain (BBC1). Anne is delving into different areas of British life, starting with a contentious one: parenting. First stop, the Isle of Wight, where mum Anni does something called “gentle attachment” parenting, which seems to mean home-teaching multiplication to eldest Alfie, while youngest is gently attached to her boobie (her word) and the others are all milling about in the milieu. Anne raises an eyebrow, not entirely approvingly, I’d say. To be honest, I’m not optimistic about Alfie’s maths. There is a dad, but he’s more of a handyman/teamaker than anything else.

It’s different in Wolverhampton, where Steve makes all the decisions, while Esther says she hopes she’s an obedient wife. Anne raises another eyebrow, or maybe the same one again). Steve’s parenting book of choice predates even Doctor Spock; it’s called the Bible. The kids are very well behaved, though.

There’s a swapsies element. Forest teacher Corinne (the kids don’t go to school, or learn to read or write; they play in the woods, like badger cubs) goes to stay with Sherise, whose kids very much do go to school, and extra maths and English, and the gym, and jujitsu, and piano, and meals are taken on the go, between activities.

Anne meets a super-successful career mum, the editor of Elle magazine, and stay-at-home mum Christina, who seems to have all the 35,000 parenting books published since King James and Doctor Spock, cherrying picking from all to perfect her terrifyingly tight timetable. On the way to school there’s a dispute between child one and two, meaning Christina had to deploy some unscheduled mediation. Up goes another of Anne’s eyebrows. “Fine if you’re in conflict resolution in Afghanistan, but in Wimbledon?” she says. “I’m not sure it wouldn’t have been easier to shut a few doors and go and pour herself a stiff drink...”

Steady, Anne, it has only just gone breakfast. And remember, Anne lost a custody battle over her own daughter, Emma, due to her alcoholism. They – Anne and Emma, who also features – are now nice together, and seem close. That – for a blundering, clueless parent like me – is encouraging, that it doesn’t really seem to matter how you go about it. Everyone, basically, wants the same for their children: confidence, independence, happiness. When’s the next Young Apprentice I wonder, and what’s the minimum age?