Goodbye, Oliver. Back to your sausage empire with you. Karthik was man of the match and next week the crazy gang are off to Liberty for a right retail romp. Thank you so much for joining us and making those dynamite comments on the blog this week. Until next week, don’t have nightmares: “Suck it and seeeeeaa!”
“Oliver, your best hope for 250 grand is to buy yourself a scratch card.” And lo, the dithering project manager is fired.
“Multi-task”, “innovative decisions”, “run with your head”. Oliver’s a sausage factory of board meeting bingo. Paul’s on the attack. And Mukai’s, ahem, fudging things.
Mukai, Paul and Oliver are facing Sir Alan’s fire finger. Please keep Paul so he gets his Falling Down moment in week seven.
Aleksandra’s game face is on. Not a word out of her all day, but she is so good in the boardroom.
They’re arguing over the prices, but all the public can hear is: “Suck it and seeeeeea!”
The sad violins of the cafe loom, Oliver’s about to get slaughtered and Aleksandra is going in for the kill.
Titans are 700 quid in profit, but the Nebs are behind. Off to the cafe for them, while the victors go for a freerunning masterclass. Freerunning out of there, more like.
“Seagulls-did-the-business-on-you” zinger there from Sir Alan.
Conclusive proof you can’t ride a bike and manage a team at the same time. Oh. Tina Takeover’s going in...
Paul’s going to blow. Go on, Paul. Tell them. Tell them they are clueless fudge-floggers who wouldn’t know a good deal if it covered itself in chocolate and then rolled around in front of them screaming: “Lick meeeeee!”
“I may be an IT project manager, but I think deep inside I’m the best salesman in the universe. Not in the world, in the universe.” K-man for the win.
“Suck iiiiiit! Who want to suck it?” That really is the gift that keeps on giving. Place your bets now: how long until Big K gets a police caution?
Paul’s expressions are priceless tonight. Surely he’s going to be the beacon of sense in a sea of sweetie-touting numpties.
Samuel’s gone rogue. He’s selling stuff! At a different price! And he’s good at it! Alana’s not into this. She’s definitely going to be using that as ammunition in the boardroom later.
Coincidentally, Corporate Candy is Sir Alan’s porn name.
“Suck it and seeeeeeeaaa!” You know a man’s committed when he touts his sweet wares so loudly on a Brighton street.
“There’s no such thing as a half football.” And here lies the important lesson of the week. Did anyone else think Mr Brighton FC was going to run them out of town?
Ooh, Karren’s stepping in. Stand back, everyone. Shambles.
“Suck it and sea.” Oh, if only this was Bake Off Mel and Sue would have a field day with that one.
Classic X Factor-style fan-yourself-instead-of-crying moment by Alana. Extra points for walking into a cupboard, forgetting why the hell she’s there and then walking straight out again.
Grainne’s had it with Oliver’s dithering and she’s going in for the kill. Alright, calm down Tina Takeover! If she doesn’t use that to annihilate him in the boardroom later, I’ll eat my fudge hat.
Woop! 75 quid in the bag. This is like taking candy from a (sniiiiip)
Rebecca’s flogging her wonky rock to a winery. That salt and vinegar fudge would have gone down a storm with a nice glass of dry Chateau De Sussex.
Soffers, just keep talking at him until he buys something. Pretend you have fudge in your ears when he says no. This is working well, isn’t it?
Mixed reactions from tonight’s commenters about the salt and vinegar fudge. At least it’s not kale and butternut squash toffee. Actually, mmm.
This rock-making is so Generation Game you’d expect Brucie to pop out any minute. “We don’t have time for a learning curve.” Who’s banking that one for the next office brainstorm?
Mmmm… salt and vinegar fudge. If they don’t bag it up IMMEDIATELY like Geri Halliwell, they’re going to miss out on some crucial sales.
Sofiane: “I’m not comfortable in the kitchen. I’ve got a wife who cooks for me.” Relax, girls, he’s spoken for.
Sausage supremo Oliver is thinking about seaside-themed sweets. This could be revolutionary. Perhaps something long. Sweet, but tough. With words written all the way through…
Alana’s a “self-taught chocolatier”. Very safe hands.
Uh-oh. It’s first thing in the morning and Alan’s already a bit cross. Where can he go from here? Furious? So, one Willy Wonka speech later and this lot of chancers are going to be flogging sweets in Brighton. Oh, and the boss man’s mixed up the teams because they’re so “DIABOLICAL”. Oliver and Alana are project-managing: safe hands?
Call time. While the women get the obligatory putting-on-mascara shot, one question hangs in the air: why are all the men talking like Danny Dyer?
Week three and the candidates are ready to put the emojeans of the previous challenge behind them. To recap: Natalie’s a goner after denim week and the rest of this sorry bunch don’t seem to know their Titans from their Nebula. Let’s go…
Welcome to The Apprentice liveblog. Tonight’s going to be sweet and sticky, but this ain’t no Bake Off. It’s all about the Corporate Candy.
Can the toffee apple tycoons bring the sugar to Sir Alan? Who’ll hit the sweet spot and who’ll be this week’s victim of the dreaded firing finger?
Join me here as we wait for that phone call, then it’s time to tumble out of bed and stumble to the kitchen. And maybe pour ourselves a cup of ambition...
Updated
