Well, now we can all sleep easy in our beds for another year.
The waiting is over, the sense of anti-climax is immense and The Apprentice for 2008 is Mr Shouty.
Aka the diamond in the rough, the dinosaur impersonator, the man who “totally f****** nailed the blue cactus” in Morocco, the one none of us really knew what the hell he was talking about, the gentleman who led the excruciating bullying of Sara a few weeks (ooops, probably should airbrush over that now).
In that respect, he’s a genuine apprentice. He is someone SirA can mould, can develop, can smooth out the jagged edges and hopefully keep hold of for longer than 12 months.
I’m not surprised, outraged, delighted or impressed. I’m relieved it is all over, although quite what I’ll do with a Wednesday night now is a little unclear.
Enjoy life, probably.
I’ve been well and truly hooked on this series, despite the fact it has produced the worst set of candidates so far. I was going to say “worst set of candidates imaginable”, but I’ll reserve judgement until next year’s series or if I catch glimpse of the Irish version – no offence intended to the esteemed Le Craic or his fellow countrymen or women, but the fact they are following the BBC blueprint so closely doesn’t augur well.
Back to reality in Apprentice-world and the final task on the final show was predictably and suitably awful.
As I’ve suggested before, The Apprentice has fallen foul of a basic economic failing – the law of diminishing marginal returns.
The more we get, the less we want.
It is the same for the rest of the reality TV genre (I was inspired to use that word by Lee McQueen and memories of the “female genre” a few weeks back).
That basic economic law clearly also applies to the Apprentice candidates – the more we get, the less impressive they prove to be.
So the other three finalists can justifiably feel robbed because the winner was just as hopeless as them.
Claire especially will be disappointed, but despite being many’s favourite her chatterbox style and refusal to listen probably did for her in the end.
Along with the other two finalists – Helene and Alex – they each represented the safe choice, displaying a predictable characteristic of the corporate clone.
But it did come down to the best of a bad bunch and it was something of a relief that neither Helene or Alex made it to the final showdown.
When I was at school we used to say of those kids who were a bit up themselves: “He thinks he’s chocolate.” Such a description fits Alex perfectly, although let us not forget that the wannabe Lynx model is still only 24 (or is it 25, I can’t remember).
It was fitting he was teamed with Helene, as they were both as ineffectual as each other.
Helene has been largely anonymous throughout the series, apart from when she’s twisting the knife into the backs of fellow candidates. In the final task, she went AWOL.
All the things that have characterised this year’s shambolic series were on show in all their inglorious splendour again in the final show as we were reunited with a few other losers for one last hurrah.
A generally clueless bunch, as usual they displayed plenty of misguided arrogance, shouted an awful lot, bitched, lied and seemed pleased with their own ignorance.
Kevin, once again, told us how brilliant he was and what a travesty it was that he left so early. No, it wasn’t – although I would like his recipe for carbonara.
The insufferable Sophocles was uncharacteristically silent, Jenny the Chin was unfortunately invited back and Raef’s hair looked marvellous.
Yet none of them would know a good idea if it punched them in the face, shouting “Look at me, I’m a good idea!” whilst waving a banner saying “Get your good idea here!”
It all seemed set up for Alex to triumph in the final task and secure the glittering prize. After all, what better challenge for a wannabe Lynx model than to create, brand and sell a men’s fragrance?
But, as ever, clever editing ensured we could never really be supremely confident of who would win.
Needless to say, we had moments of unintentional laugh-out loud hilarity and others even more cringe-worthy than farting loudly while stuck in a lift with half a dozen nuns.
And then it all slotted into place and we finally heard those two words: “You’re hired.”
So congratulations to Lee McQueen.
Mr Shouty is The Apprentice – that’s what SirA is talking about.