And so another week of The Apprentice draws to a close. It’s farewell to newly badass Rebecca and time for the candidates to have their afternoon nap because it’s been a night of tagine/tahini and Turkey/Morocco confusion.
The Apprentice liveblog is here again at 9pm next Thursday, so come back then because next week’s episode appears to be about fish.
’Night!
That looked like it was shaping up for a double firing, but Soffers and Trish live to fight another week. Rebecca’s going out with a t-bomb. Maybe if she’d have sworn more during that task, she’d still be in.
Buh-bye, Rebecca! Good on her for not crying there.
He’s pinning it on Trishna. This is a serious failure. We’re talking about a missing tagine here.
Who’s getting the fire finger, then?
Trishna’s whipped the gloves off. She works in a high pressured environment: recruitment.
Classic stab-in-the-back of Jessica, who’s back at the house feeding Paul grapes while her team burns.
Oh keep Sofiane for entertainment value!
While all this is going on, spare a thought for Karthik who’s probably getting a back, crack and sac.
Is anyone else having to mute Rebecca right now?
Sir Alan’s clearly done the knowledge.
If Soffers was in a John Lewis advert, he’d be the fox. Boing. Jessica would be the badger.
Sad violins at the cafe. Anyone want to buy a tagine?
Oh no, that was Titans. It’s hard to keep up, isn’t it?
Dead heads and fork handles jokes aside, it’s time for the result. Nebula are two items down, but spent less so they’re getting another pampering session.
Sofiane in quite-impressed-with-himself shocker.
Karren means business tonight. Is it too soon to suggest there’s something Presidential about her?
No-one’s making any sense. This is like the sweaty last train back from Homelands in 2001.
Boardroom o’clock, where a “spiky but hard on the outside/soft and sweet on the inside” gag from Sir Alan lulls them in to a false sense of security.
This could be Paul’s long-awaited Michael Douglas in Falling Down moment. “Can I have my bagel NOW?”
So many important questions tonight. Is Morocco in Turkey?, What the hell’s a rambutan? and is this the week when Karren trashes the boardroom in a rage?
Grainne’s got herself a bargain there. Meanwhile, across town, Courtney has no idea where he is.
It’s a Kart-nap. Their Uber rating must be stratospheric.
Have some black soup with that.
BANG! Ah, OK.
Rubs hand together waiting for the shopkeeper to say: “I thought you said tahini”
Why is Jessica lying? And what has that cigar-touter come as?
Memo: use the “pathetic female” act and risk Karren giving you THE FACE.
While they’re wittering on about tagines, I’ve got a chance to take a proper look below the line. Where the real fun happens. Hello to you gorgeous commenters, with your wit, wonder and Karthik tolerance level much lower than mine.
Nice bit of “Asian persuasion” from the K-man there. He’s on fire tonight and Dillon’s complaining like a teenager at the Topshop returns desk.
If this was a vote: K-dawg! The charming boxer dog to Frances’ cold-hearted shark.
Chat-up line of the week: “I look hot in a lengha.” Is Frances flirting with Paul?
Sofiane’s trying to run the show. “I’ve tried to tame him a little bit,” says Trishna. Yeah, good luck with that.
Karren’s furious. Nobody puts the tagine at risk without facing her wrath.
This is like being held up at misery-point. “Quick! There’s an angry man demanding bagels! Feed him!”
Oh hello, here’s Paul. As usual, Mr Giggles. “So, is this, like the ghetto, Paul?”
Karthik for the win! “Super Indian mode” or not.
He’s realised they’re taking the long way round. Not to London Bridge.
Courtney’s heading off to SE2. The one in London Bridge.
Intense rambutan discussion. “Does anyone think a rambutan’s an instrument?” Why nobody runs out to the toilet to Google these things is baffling.
And her opposition: Courtney, the Poundland Matt Di Angelo.
“I know London really well.” Trishna’s throwing her hat in as project manager. Place your bets on how long before she gets lost down a dark alley.
YES LORD SUGAR! It’s the night shift, with a cheeky jumbling of teams before they start. Let there be nocturnal carnage!
“I eat. I drink. I make love. That’s what I do.” Karthik. Stick that in your job description, kids. Anyone else just spit their tea out?
Zing! Inevitable “taking us up The Shard” joke. *Ticks that one off to-do list*
Hang on, who’s on the phone? Only Lord Sugar, demanding they dry off, oil up and get to the Shard in half an hour. “WHAT?”
Well this is nice. They’re in a hot tub. Karthik’s in his pants. There’s some Apprentice and chill going down.
Thirty seconds to go, which is just enough time to dry your eyes if you caught the end of DIY SOS at Great Ormond Street. Destroyed. It’s time for some light relief, so send in the clowns...
Evening, Apprenticeers!
After proving they couldn’t crowd fund their way out of a paper bag, Sir Alan’s sausage fodder are back with a new challenge. Breaking news: fabulous liveblogger Julia Raeside is on a team-building awayday (probably) so while she’s knee-deep in paintballs and cheap gin I’ll be your temp for the night.
There are still 12 would-be Apprentices left, which means we’ve got a long way to go until we find out who wins the race for Christmas number one. Oops, wrong show. It’s been a long week...
So take the advice of JD (who got the boot last week) and let’s “relax, chill out” and sit back while the shoal of CV-stuffers pull an all-nighter in a bid to impress Sir Alan.
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