2013-06-20T07:29:51-04:00 Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/author/index.php?author=hilary-wardle Copyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc. HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for Hilary Wardle Good old fashioned elbow grease. tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2788852 2013-03-01T08:51:06-05:00 2013-05-01T05:12:01-04:00

Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-wardle/
Don't get me wrong, I don't mean that in a bad way. It's just that she first hit our screens in the early 1990′s and has been all over our collective tellyboxes ever since.

In fact since she started presenting Great British Bake Off she's only been half a Dench (equivalent to quarter of a McKellen) away from formal 'National Treasure' status.

So when her vet character repeatedly introduced herself as 'Sara' in the first episode of her new sitcom it seemed a bit jarring:

"Hi, I'm Sara, a 40 year old lesbian who hasn't yet come out to her parents. Also, I just killed a cat."

No you're not! You're Sue Perkins. You're really good at conducting orchestras, you're best pals with Mary Berry and you once ate a boiled calf's head.

It doesn't help our suspension of disbelief that Sue is- effectively- playing herself, although unlike Sara I suspect she's definitely out to her parents. If not, they definitely don't have a TV. Or radio. Or the internet.

However, once you got past the shock of Almost A National Treasure Sue Perkins pretending to be someone other than Sue Perkins and even (!!!) kissing women and waking up naked - ok, all you could see was a bare shoulder, but still- the good news is that Heading Out is actually quite good.

It's hard to judge sitcoms on the first episode alone as they take a while to find their feet, but while the overall set up was a bit clunky at times (I'm still not sure why she couldn't just cremate the dead cat at her own vet surgery) there were some great individual jokes and one liners, a testament to Sue's solid stand up comedy origins.

Putting the lesbian element to one side for a moment, there's also a huge amount of mileage in the veterinary setting- so much so that it's actually quite hard to understand why VetComs (as @Magicdarts over on Twitter calls them) have taken so long to catch on.

The initial scene showing Sue- sorry, Sara- having to deal with an owner who changed her mind half way through having their cat put down ("look, to be honest with you it's essentially a windsock") was genuinely engaging and funny in its own right, a bit like a postmodern version of All Creatures Great and Small with the James Herriot role played by a overly talkative 12 year old boy in a netball skirt.

Also, the casting of Shelley Conn as Sara's love interest was inspired. Firstly because she is extremely attractive (good call, Sue), but more importantly she's a fantastic actress with a very impressive résumé, having recently played the lead in Stephen Spielberg's gigantibudget sci-fi dinosaur series Terra Nova on Fox.

With her glamorous Hollywood polish and perfect teeth, Conn really did stand out, floating around like a British Thandie Newton against a rather more prosaic backdrop of UK comedy heavyweights such as Joanna 'Thick of It' Scanlan and Mark 'Brian From Spaced' Heap, who had a great cameo as an overly sensitive pet mortician.

In fact, the only problem with the impressive cast is that there were too many of them to keep track of. Poor Nicola Walker (Ruth Evershed in Spooks) who plays Sara's friend Justine was completely under-utilised. Hopefully she'll have a more central role in future episodes.

It remains to be seen if Heading Out can move away from some of the awkwardness and slightly low-budget feel that are its only real flaws. However, thanks to Sue and a great supporting cast the series benefits from a huge amount of charm and some solid gags.

Also, any pilot that contains a provincial, over 30′s netball team version of the traditional All Blacks 'haka' performed by Joanna Scanlan surely has a huge amount of potential.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2615071 2013-02-04T09:04:54-05:00 2013-04-06T05:12:01-04:00

Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-wardle/ 30 Rock came to an emotional end last week in a finale that saw cheerfully insane sketch show TGS finally succumb to cancellation.

Thankfully, harassed head writer Liz Lemon wasn't left unemployed: she went on to take a job producing Grizz's new sitcom, Grizz and Herz. She also adopted suspiciously Tracy and Jenna-esque twins.

It was a wonderful end to a great series. But just in case Liz Lemon decides that working on a comedy where people regularly roll their eyes, turn to a dog and say 'don't even SAY it!' isn't for her, here are five alternative careers she could try:

1. Cheesemonger.

No one loves cheese quite as much - or in the same way- as Lemon. Mainly because if they did they'd probably be arrested.

2. Tree surgeon.

Lemon has a deep and abiding passion for nature, particularly any nature that she can see from her apartment window. This is clearly visible in this impassioned- some might even say rabidly insane- attempt to remove a plastic bag from a tree branch.

3. Stylist.

Lemon's style is unique and impeccable. Who else would shop at Blazer Barn, Manhattan's biggest womens' out of business blazer dump? Here she is giving office assistant Cerie some invaluable fashion tips. She's the Gok Wan of 30 Rockefeller Plaza.

4. Model.

What the world of modelling needs is 'real women'. Women who wear glasses, are about 40 years old, have dark hair, a bottle of baby oil and no dignity. A Liz Lemon modelling career could revolutionize fashion forever.

5. Dancer.

She's got the moves like Jagger... if Jagger regularly wore pink pyjamas with love hearts and ice cream on them. To be fair, he probably should have.

Bye Lemon... we'll miss you.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2013:/theblog//3.2575011 2013-01-29T13:20:11-05:00 2013-03-31T05:12:01-04:00

Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-wardle/
If you're a baking incompetent like me, it's a lot more relaxing to watch other people cook. Even more so if they're National Treasures™ like Olympic swimming champion Ellie Simmonds, comic legend Bob Mortimer and, er, Duncan Bannantyne, who bought a lot of buildings and put some rowing machines in them. Give the man an OBE.

Oh, he already has one. Never mind.

Another soothing thing about this celebrity update to the already calming Bake Off format is the fact that it's for charity. Throughout the strangely zen-like scenes of stirring, celebs putting cake mix into the wrong containers (the sink/their own hair/the floor) and setting custard slices on fire, viewers were regularly encouraged to text BAKE to 70005 and donate £5 to Comic Relief. You should too.

We also got to see the results of some of this fundraising via Lorraine Pascale's Ghana videos, which saw the cook and presenter visit some of the many projects funded by Comic Relief. It was all very heart-warming and added to the overall feeling that the viewer was taking the televisual equivalent of a bath in a vat of pink buttercream icing with glitter sprinkles.

The celebrity contestants all put on a good - and very funny - show, with Ingrid Oliver's Paul Hollywood face cake singled out for particular praise. I haven't seen such a blatant attempt to suck up to a judge since Matt Cardle's weeping offer to fellate Simon Cowell in return for a guaranteed place in the 2010 X Factor final (ok, fine- that didn't actually happen, but how on Earth do you explain it?).

My only criticism of this noble, baking based competition is that it wasn't actually that competitive. The series aired over four nights, and each night a celeb was crowned Britain's Next Top Baker and given the ornamental apron of glory. But that was it. It would have been great if they'd ended with a 'champion of champions' final episode, which may or may not have seen Martha Kearney from The World At One rugby tackle newsreader Kirsty Wark in a heated row about the political implications of Battenberg cake.

Although Mel Giedroyc did a great job of presenting, I was also saddened by the lack of Sue Perkins. However, that's not unexpected given the fact that I am - to date - the only person she's had to take out a restraining order against due to my repeated insistence that the jokey banter we had once about our 'Twitter marriage' was actually legally binding.

Love you, Sue. I'd definitely eat your face-cake.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.2388665 2012-12-31T11:50:43-05:00 2013-03-02T05:12:02-05:00

Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-wardle/
Um...*checks copy of Raymond Briggs' children's classic*. Hang on, I'm pretty sure that isn't how it's meant to go. Although they did at least remember to include the bit about walking in the air, which in the Doctor Who version went something like this:

" I'm walking on a cloud.
I'm walking on a solid clouddddddd,
The people far below,
Can't see me because I'm invisible.
Oh look, a TARDIS."

Yes, in typical Steven Moffat style, this year's Doctor Who festive special turned a classic Christmas story on its head and mixed it with a steaming helping of Dickensian Victoriana/just the right amount of fairy tale magic. It wasn't perfect- the 'tears melting snow' ending was a big soppy cop out- but it was certainly the most fun you could have in a turkey bloated hour with all your clothes on and your relatives in the room.

It also saw the return of Oswin, a.k.a. Clara, a.k.a. Emmerdale's Jenna-Louise Coleman, the new companion last seen in the series seven opener Asylum of The Daleks.

But before we could get into the how and why of her anachronistic reappearance, we had the Doctor's apathy to contend with. And what impressive apathy it was, too. You can't get much more sulky and Scrooge-like than moving to live on a mass of frozen water vapour on top of a park in central London. In fact, the only way he could have become more crotchety would have been if he'd regenerated into Alan Sugar.

The problem was, this curmudgeonly post-Amy Pond behaviour simply wasn't believable (and yes, I'm aware I'm talking about a programme that featured an invisible staircase, a reptilian Sherlock Holmes, a Sontaran butler and a zombified Richard E Grant).

The Doctor would never simply shrug his shoulders and allow the human race to die at the hands of toothy snowmen made from...but of course...alien 'memory snow'. Not after saving it approximately 43,881,077 times in the past: it would be a colossal waste of effort, like spending 8 hours cooking Christmas dinner only to throw it all in the bin.

We're supposed to believe he's a different man, but it was obvious from the start that it wouldn't last. He was more like a hormonal teenager than a world weary ex-hero and it was quite a relief when he dropped the pretence and reverted to type. From the moment the Doc burst into Richard E Grant's snow-globe lair dressed as Sherlock (nice Steven Moffat crossover there), the episode kicked into a higher gear. And at half an hour in, it was about time.

Having said that, the real soul and centre of the episode wasn't our newly Clarkson-like Doctor, and it certainly wasn't the terribly CGI'd (that's a word, honest. Look it up) Ice Woman. It was the mysterious and plucky Clara Oswin Oswald.

At first, it was surprising that the Doctor didn't recognise her. Then, later, we were reminded that he hadn't actually seen Oswin: she'd been trapped inside a Dalek exoskeleton when he met her- a fairly effective disguise. The only clues to her identity were a) her love of soufflés and b) her full name, as revealed on her gravestone.

Admittedly b) was quite a big clue. The Doctor should probably give back that Sherlock Holmes outfit.

Her death by falling- or failure to fly, to put a more positive spin on it- was a bit of a shocker. Two episodes, two deaths: is she going to turn out to be the Kenny from South Park of Doctor Who? There's no way to tell at present. The only thing we know for sure is that the 'Who Is Oswin' mystery is going to be a fantastic hook for series eight.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.2294058 2012-12-14T19:00:00-05:00 2013-02-13T05:12:01-05:00

Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-wardle/ Peep Show doesn't have to worry about that: it's barely managed to rustle up a single negative review since it initially aired way back in 2003.

So with several years of comedy success behind them and nothing to lose, writers Sam Bain and Jesse Armstrong clearly decided to do whatever the hell they wanted and up the ante. Luckily for them, it paid off.

The beginning of the first episode of series eight didn't give us much to go on. Mark was still chasing after Dobby, whose passive relationship with him seems more like the love of a woman for a nostalgia-inducing toy from her youth rather than anything passionate. A Teddy Ruxpin, perhaps. Or a Big Yellow Teapot.

Mark's insipid love life is ground Peep Show has walked all over, jumped up and down on and built a patio on top of a long time ago, so his attempts to get Dobby to move in with him felt a bit stale and recycled - like a homemade Christmas present made from bits of old bread. But before viewers could doze off, Mark's perpetually infirm rival Gerard popped his clogs, an event that launched the entire series into fifth gear.

Gerard's untimely death from pneumonia - almost certainly complicated by his nasal tube, asthma and general air of slightly sweaty ill health - allowed Peep Show to do what it does best: approach important life events like births, deaths and marriages with the kind of deep irreverence people usually reserve for baiting the Pope on Twitter.

Mark was instantly (internally) pleased that his main competitor in the Dobby Olympics had bought the farm, but what else could we expect from a man whose thoughts the first time he cradled his new born son in his arms were 'minimal water damage', and who once got married out of embarrassment.

His hasty editing of Gerard's eulogy so he could attend a second job interview for a bathroom supplies retailer racked up the wonderful, cringe inducing tastelessness to a level not seen since series one. It was classic Peep Show, as was Jez's decision to become a life coach in episode two. It would be hard to think of a profession Jez would be more unsuitable for, apart from (possibly) pyramid selling. Or being a musician. Or...actually there are quite a few.

Jez's failure to get a life coaching certificate from a Mickey Mouse accrediting body run by a woman he'd slept with - combined with Mark's equally crushing defeat at the hands of a fake publishing agent - was Peep Show gold, but the third episode somehow managed to be even better.

Instantly bringing to mind a classic episode of Spaced, the hapless El Dude brothers (plus El Dude uncle Super Hans) were dragged along on a 'no holds barred' paintballing weekend by Dobby's ex boyfriend Simon.

Yep, Mark had only just buried one romantic competitor when a new one showed up. But it wasn't Simon he needed to worry about - it was Jez. Mark's moral vacuum of a best friend finally collapsed into himself in a black hole of selfishness, cheerfully allowing himself to fall for ubergeek Dobby during a woodland walk.

Nothing's happened yet, but we all know it will. Jez snogged Sophie in the past, seduced Mark's sister and had sex with his mother-in-law, so you could argue this is hardly groundbreaking stuff... but Mark's been chasing Dobby for years, any betrayal at this stage will nuke the flatmates' unlikely friendship forever.

Or until series nine at the very least.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.2123175 2012-11-14T19:00:00-05:00 2013-01-14T05:12:01-05:00

Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-wardle/
That's probably why I love Fresh Meat so much: it allows me to relive those glory days. Well, that and the fact that the second series (currently airing on Channel 4) is the funniest comedy on television at the moment. Sam Bain and Jesse Armstrong have brought their cringe-inducing Peep Show expertise to bear on the unique awkwardness of student life with fantastic results.

Take token posho JP. We've probably all encountered someone like him: an entitled, overconfident arse with no self awareness who still calls his parents mummy and daddy. This yah-boy archetype is a fixture at most universities, so it would have been easy for Bain and Armstrong to turn JP into a caricature. However, despite being played by the ever-punchable Jack Whitehall, he's evolved into a funny and - dare I say it? - likeable character.

The death of his dad, a rather pitiful case of the mumps ("I need soup. I'm sort of being raped by my lack of soup") and the subsequent heart-rending sale of his family's huge Downton Abbey home humanised him, as did the discovery he had a fairly lonely childhood: a revelation that took place during a weekend 'freak out' that saw the gang attempt to consume 130 bottles of vintage wine.

I'd say we'd all been there, but sadly most of us haven't. The closest I got to vintage wine as a student was Tesco value rioja (£2.50 - bargain). Oh, and Lambrini of course, but only when used as a mixer.

Fresh Meat isn't perfect. The current boring love triangle between fidgety, insecure Kingsley, calculating dentistry student Josie and her dull friend Heather is certainly a low point. Also the writers have struggled to find a clear role for 70s throwback/ punk tomboy Vod, whose sex scene with a handyman last week was one of the strangest things I've ever seen on TV.

But all this is more than compensated for by the addition of new character Sabine (Jelka van Houten), a delightfully honest, plain speaking and Dutch (which probably explains a lot) mature student. "I don't not like her," says Kingsley. "But I also don't like her." The addition of Sabine has lifted the second series far above the first. She's our unfazeable straight man who cuts through the cartoon character nonsense of the other students with a single glance.

With the exception of the wonderful Howard (Greg McHugh) she's probably the best character, so I was delighted to see them get together...if you can use the term "get together" to refer to an encounter that started with Sabine saying "generally speaking I like to do sex at least once a month as it's beneficial for the heart and nervous system. If you'd like, you could come upstairs to my room and we could have intercourse."

Like I said: plain speaking.

We're five episodes into series two and each one has been funnier than the last. Let's hope this upward trend continues. If not, I'll be so disappointed I'll have to try and recreate student life by drinking a litre of whisky and Lambrini while watching In The Night Garden.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.2017010 2012-10-25T11:19:03-04:00 2012-12-25T05:12:01-05:00

Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-wardle/
The series started with omni-shambolic Nicola Murray promoted to leader of the opposition, while back at DoSAC an ill-matched, uncomfortable coalition of MPs were (and still are) fighting like dogs in a blender. The new Head of Social Affairs is the stately, plump Peter Mannion, but he has to share the job with brattish junior minister Fergus Williams. Their ongoing rivalry and frequent attempts to trip each other up have been the icing on top of the series so far.

That conflict (combined with the fact that DoSAC civil servants Terri and Glenn continue to be about as effective as Lego panty liners) means that Williams and Mannion have about as much chance of actually getting anything done as our current, real life government.

Every coalition episode so far has been filled with more miscommunication, idiocy, infighting and dropped balls than a Premier League championship. Yes, it's very funny, but it's hard to laugh at something that so accurately mirrors the ongoing failings of the ConDem alliance...although lines like 'he was homeless only in the sense that he had no home' (delivered by Peter Mannion) definitely help the chuckle count.

The coalition chumps certainly haven't been helped by their own doublethink-addicted PR guru Stewart Pearson, who keeps dragging them off for brainstorming sessions in remote locations: horrible, jargon-filled circle-jerks that will be familiar to pretty much everyone who has ever had a job, political or otherwise.

Switching the balance of power has refreshed The Thick Of It immensely, not that it really needed to be refreshed as the sudden sidelining of Malcolm at the end of series three left things wide open anyway. However, Tucker's many fans were no doubt pleased to see their favourite 'Iago with a Blackberry' back at the wheel for series four, plotting and manipulating like a Roman emperor's heir on Ides of March-eve.

As well as quickly manoeuvring his party leader Nicola Murray out of the door so he could replace her with gurning Miliband clone Dan Miller, Tucker also engineered several leaks that led to last week's Goolding Inquiry: a gripping hour of TV that saw cast members filmed under inquest conditions with the minimum of rehearsal time.

The inquiry revolved around the death of Mr Tickle (a vocal NHS housing campaigner) and the political posturing, leaks and illegal obtaining of information that surrounded his untimely demise. Leaks that included an entire back catalogue of DoSAC emails laughing at his death:

"How many Mr Tickles does it take to change a lightbulb? He doesn't have any lightbulbs, he's in a tent. How do you turn Mr Tickle into Mr Happy? Lithium. What's the difference between Mr Tickle and Captain Oates? Captain Oates has a less stupid name."

...and so on.

Tickle-gate has been a slow burner, glimpsed in fits and starts- possibly to highlight the fact that quite trivial annoyances have the potential to turn into career-burying avalanches of political failure if they aren't handled in the right way.

The fact that Mannion received the information about Tickle's death while standing on a children's slide (the only place in Pearson's ridiculous 'thought camp' location that he could get a phone signal) certainly didn't help the subsequent media outcry.

As usual it's all about posturing, image, slip-ups, leaks and spin- with Tucker at the centre like a gimlet eyed spider. At the end of the Goolding Inquiry it looked as if he'd finally been caught out, so he responded by engineering media distraction after distraction to deflect attention from the hearings: even smearing Baroness Sureka (one of his main inquisitors) to the extent she had to withdraw to deal with the fallout.

It showed the extent of Malcolm's power. It was also a timely and worrying reminder of the fact that real life unelected advisers and strategists like Tucker still exist: in fact they're setting agendas, engineering cover ups and influencing policy as we speak.

The government itself has said that 'the position of special advisers is a sensitive one: they occupy influential positions within Whitehall and have the potential to destabilise the relationship between ministers and officials' (interestingly, that quote comes from a public administration select committee report called 'Special advisers in the thick of it').

In dark times like these it's doubly important that we don't forget who's really pulling the strings- we need programmes like TTOI more than ever.

The Thick Of It is a rare breed: comedy with a clear message that gets extremely close to the political bone. As well as making us laugh, series creator Armando Iannuchi is also saying 'be vigilant, be attentive- and the next time there's a big, loud, glossy story in the newspapers, ask yourself who's got the most to gain from the revelations and what else might be going on behind the scenes'.

But- even more importantly- don't forget to chuckle at phrases like 'thoughtgasm' and 'having an accurate wee into a moving train toilet would make a great round on The Cube with Philip Schofield'.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1880356 2012-09-13T09:08:47-04:00 2012-11-13T05:12:01-05:00

Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-wardle/
"Whelks on a Plane?"
"No Brian, that won't do at all. Needs more menace."
"How about snakes?"
"Perfect!"

Having watched last Saturday's Doctor Who episode, I can only assume they did the same thing.

"Whales on a Spaceship?"
"NO, Brian, we did a Space Whale episode in Series 5, you idiot."
"What about dinosaurs?"
"Perfect!"

That's possibly why the whole episode felt so tiresome. Yes, the Doctor is a time traveller. Yes, it's possible for him to summon Queen Nefertiti and big game hunter John Riddell (along with Amy, Rory and Rory's dad) for a jaunt to a hijacked Silurian Space Ark filled with dinosaurs, but the question is: should he?

It's all starting to feel a bit like Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure. Next week, he'll go back in time to collect Napoleon, Billy the Kid, Beethoven and Socrates to help him with an intergalactic Battle of the Bands competition.

Also, the scene where the Doctor, Rory and his dad rode to safety on the back of a CGI triceratops was just ridiculous. I know it's a family programme, but that's not a reason to dumb Doctor Who down to the point it's just a PowerPoint presentation full of outlandish scenarios.

Last week's Asylum of the Daleks was good, but there was still some kind of determination to up the ante by having decaying skeletons in astronaut suits suddenly sprout Dalek eye stalks.

"How can we make Daleks scarier?"
"ZOMBIE DALEK ASTRONAUT SKELETONS."
"Well done, Brian. You're on a roll today. What about the Weeping Angels?"
"PUT THEM IN CLOWN MAKE UP AND REPLACE THEIR HANDS WITH MACHINE GUNS."
"You just earned yourself a promotion."

They were effectively cross bred with the zombie astronauts from the series four episode Silence in the Library: but this kind of inbreeding probably won't help the programme in the long run. It certainly hasn't done much for the Royal Family.

Strong plot arcs and intrigue are surely a better way to build tension, but so far we've seen little evidence of the kind of hook that kept series six together. The Doctor's apparent death at the hands of an 'impossible astronaut' in Utah was a blinding series opener, and seemed a lot more interesting and subtle than either Asylum or Dinosaurs.

In fact, DOAS (as all the cool kids are calling it) seemed more like a comedy than a sci-fi show. This probably wasn't helped by having Peep Show stars David Mitchell and Robert Webb voice the two slightly camp, Marvin-the-paranoid-android security 'droids employed by the ark's hijacker, Solomon - who in turn looked like Albert Steptoe at a pirate fancy dress party.

There was a touch of darkness towards the end when the Doctor allowed Space Steptoe to be killed by approaching missiles, but because the rest of the episode had felt like an 8 year old's fever dream it seemed quite jarring. As did the scene where Steptoe killed the dog-like Triceratops:

'This episode's been a bit daft really, hasn't it?"
"Let's kill off a loveable animal to prove we can still be 'edgy'."
"Yes, that'll play well with the 8-11 age group".

On the plus side, Mark 'Arthur Weasley' Williams was great as Rory's dad Brian. Though again, he did play it as a comedy part meaning it did feel like a sitcom at times. There was also a lot of extremely convenient shorthand and a lack of real explanation for, well, pretty much everything. It felt very rushed and confused: just a sound and light show for six year olds (with a bit of casual dinosaur murder thrown in) rather than something the whole family could enjoy.

Hopefully next week's episode will be a bit more thought provoking. Although based on the series so far, it'll probably star Cybermen-werewolves and be set inside a black hole full of ghosts.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1500187 2012-05-08T12:46:42-04:00 2012-07-08T05:12:08-04:00

Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-wardle/
That's the message we took away from Wednesday's episode of the Apprentice, anyway.

Poor Azhar. If only he'd blithely followed Jade's lead instead of questioning her: he'd have lived to fight another day. And by 'fight', I of course mean 'strut his stuff in teeny tiny disco shorts'.

Wednesday's task saw the two teams attempt to guess what wholesale items would sell well at shopping centres and market stalls in Essex. Once they'd had a trial run it was up to the project managers to decide what was selling well, then restock to maximise their profits.

Unfortunately for the people in Jade's team, she turned out to have significantly less natural strategic sales instinct than a sea otter. Or any other aquatic mammal, to be fair.

One of Jade's biggest failings was decision making. She spent a substantial chunk of the crucial first part of the task debating potential stall locations rather than deciding what to stock, meaning her team ended up having to rush round the warehouse frantically throwing novelty items into their trolley like rejects from Supermarket Sweep.

Tom: "Ok, we've got elbow pads, knee trimmers, leg ointment, snorkels, edible underwear, party hats, hamster duvets and a startled shop assistant called Dave....what's your strategy here, Jade?"
Jade: "GET MORE STUFF".

Over in the other team, project manager and professional Duncan from Blue lookalike Nick was having a bit more success, as he'd picked their stock first then decided on a location. If they'd been anywhere else that might have been a risky strategy, but in Essex it doesn't matter whether you're at a car boot sale or outside a swanky department store: fake tan and nail extensions aren't going to do badly.

It's just a shame the warehouse didn't also stock Asti Spumante and leopard print heels.

Nick sent half his team to Romford Shopping Centre and packed Ricky and Stephen off to the market to sell extendable mops to the confused and infirm, which they did in the manner of a very tired end of the pier comedy double act from 1959.

"Have you got a bad back Stephen?"
"I most certainly have, Ricky."

And so on, until viewers and the population of Romford collectively lost their will to live. Torturers could learn a thing or two from them. Well them, and Jade's clanging, clattering, bag-of-drill-bits-in-a-cement-mixer voice.

Thankfully, Ricky and Stephen's stint as the new Morecambe and Wise was short lived, as project manager Nick spent the rest of the task using them as fake tan couriers. Unsurprisingly, it had proved to be slightly more popular than breathing back at the shopping centre and they'd almost run out.

But disaster struck- the Banter Brothers got stuck in traffic, leaving Nick and the others without stock for almost two hours. The break in sales was totally unnecessary: they could have easily made their own fake tan by getting a job lot of Wotsits from a nearby Asda and scraping the coating into a jar.

Luckily for them, Jade's efforts were such a shambles that even with a two-hour selling break, Nick's team really didn't have much to worry about.

When it came time to restock she ignored her team. Instead of 'smelling what's selling' and buying more of the vibrating bug toys that had proved to be a smash hit in Pitsea (presumably Pitsea is some kind of temporal black hole where the Xbox hasn't been invented yet), she grabbed yet another random selection of products.

This prompted Azhar to ask her what her strategy was for the eleven hundredth time. Sadly, like any oft-repeated phrase it had lost all meaning by that point. But then again, most sensible advice probably sounds like buzzing random noise to Jade.

Due to this and a catalogue of other errors that included slashing prices so violently it was like watching a version of the Saw films set in Poundland, Jade's team lost. They ended up with £838, but Nick's team made £955.

Never mind this TV reviewing lark, I'm going to stock up on Ronseal and make a killing in South Ockendon this summer.

Jade's shambolic, indecisive leadership continued in the boardroom. Unable to decide who to blame for the task's failure (er, someone hand her a mirror), she pulled in Tom as well as doomsayer Azhar.

As Tom had actually been the most helpful and level headed team member she got told off for that too, but survived for another week despite being about as useful as an electric beard trimmer in an Amish retirement home. Instead, Azhar was sent home for having the temerity to repeatedly suggest his leader formulate some kind of plan.

Azhar, you fool. Don't you realise we live in an age of slavish duty and unquestioning obedience? Now, help me load this crate of Wotsits onto the Edinburgh-Romford train.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1458796 2012-04-27T09:57:23-04:00 2012-06-27T05:12:02-04:00

Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-wardle/
Tsk, as if we haven't got enough to worry about with the whole trams fiasco.

The teams were tasked with selling gourmet street food from a 'mobile catering unit' to the unlucky Scots. For the uninitiated, this is a 21st century re-imagining of the traditional fairground burger and chips van. But these days, the burger is a well hung Aberdeen Angus mince patty with handmade jalapeño relish, the chips are sweet potato wedges and the whole thing costs £9.99 plus VAT.

The vendors don't even spit in your food any more. How times have changed.

Project manager of Sterling (and professional Lancastrian) Jenna immediately suggested that her team sell pies, because clearly nothing says gourmet more than a steak bake. Luckily for her, Laura jumped in and suggested casserole instead.

I don't know about you, but when I hear 'convenience food' I automatically think of casserole.

"Blooming hell, I'm hammered. Let's get a kebab."
"Nah pal: I'd much prefer a slow cooked one pot stew with rosemary, carrots, onions and locally sourced beef".

Speaking of beef, Sterling hit a bit of a pricing roadblock when they found out their casserole would work out at £2.50 per portion. Turns out cows actually cost money: who knew?

But why put meat in it at all: they could have made soup instead. Soup's practically free, it's just water and lentils and suchlike. And they could have made it sound more Scottish by calling it broth...or possibly 'Seething Hatred of The English'. But broth is shorter.

Instead of accepting the potential cut in profits caused by using decent cuts of meat, as Sterling did, Phoenix's project manager Adam decided to see how many 'Italian' meatballs you could get out of one diseased lump of pig fat. Quite a lot, as it turns out. His meatball/pasta slop ended up costing just 50p a portion to make, quite an achievement if you discounted the fact it was potentially lethal.

The teams then hit the steep, cobbled streets of Edinburgh in an attempt to sell overpriced cardboard boxes of what was effectively expensive beef soup and sub-Greggs pork products to unwary, susceptible and confused pedestrians, i.e. tourists.

Despite the fact that innocent foreigners were probably their best bet for a quick sell, Katie encouraged her team to take their Italian muck to Gorgie Road and flog it to canny football fans. As you can imagine, this strategy had limited success. As Lord Sugar himself put it, Hearts don't even pay £5.99 for a striker these days, never mind congealed pasta. Ahaha.

Project manager Adam had more luck after figuring out who he was dealing with. You've got to hand it to the man: he may resemble a red faced, sexist deleted scene from Life on Mars, but he ended up shifting his stock, even though it meant dropping the price to two for a fiver. If he'd thought to throw in a few free jibes about Hibs he'd have sold even more.

Team Stew weren't getting many sales either, despite picking the more tourist-friendly location of Parliament Square just off the Royal Mile. It seems even visitors to our cold shores baulk at spending nearly seven pounds on some lukewarm casserole in a shoddy cardboard container. Scotpot? Leaksalot would have been a more accurate name.

Given the fact that Team Leaders Adam and Jenna seemed to be locked in an unofficial 'Stupid Off' throughout the episode, I've decided not to use the word winner to describe the end result.

The team who lost less were Sterling, with their better quality Hotscotbrothpot. The people who lost the most were Team Meatballs, a.k.a. Phoenix, chaired by red-faced rejected Bullseye contestant Adam.

Despite being about as useful-or welcome- as a pork sandwich at a kosher wedding, Adam was allowed to survive for another week. Instead, self styled Blonde Assassin Katie got the chop as she'd been in the losing team too many times, and her decision to sell their 'meat' balls at the footie instead of in the city centre meant they couldn't charge a high enough price.

It wasn't a satisfactory result. If nothing else, arrogant Adam deserved to be fired for crimes against food. It's a surprise he and the rest of his team weren't chased back across the border by a pack of enraged Hearts fans brandishing claymores:

"You charged us five neenety NEEN for rancid pig balls! Stahnd still while I kick ye in the cludgie, ye sassenach bampot."]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1437502 2012-04-19T12:27:59-04:00 2012-06-19T05:12:01-04:00

Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-wardle/
A group of people taking part in an Apprentice-invented fitness class.

As tasks go, forcing this group of self-styled 'business brains' to come up with gym session ideas was a bit unfair. After all, these are people who can barely cope with flogging ironic vintage tat to hipsters, which as challenges go is approximately 110% easier than convincing a dog to eat a Winalot sandwich.

The reason this task proved particularly challenging is that if you can imagine an exercise class, the chances are it's already been done.

Typing a review of The Apprentice is probably a gym session somewhere, combined with the occasional pelvic thrust (well, it's an exciting subject). In such a crowded market, the only way to come up with an original idea would be to invent a time machine and try to patent zumba in 1897:

"What on Earth are you doing, Wilkins?"

"It's called an 'MC Hammer Shuffle', m'lud. It's very good for core flexibility."

Wrestler and gimlet-eyed GI Joe lookalike Ricky was convinced his team should combine martial arts with street dance, and lo! Beat Battle was born.

The other team, led by sales manager Stephen, managed to come up with- on the face of it- an even worse idea: Groove Train, an 80s inspired 'retro workout' that involved miming the Thriller dance while bouncing on a space hopper.

Sadly, the section that involved them dressing up as a striking miner and punching an effigy of Margaret Thatcher in the face had to be abandoned due to cost. Other rejected 80s themed workout class ideas include 'Flashdance' (you dress up like Jennifer Beals and spend the day welding).

Groove Train also involved a pair of shorts so tiny, you almost expected an irate Oompa Loompa to march onscreen and demand his underwear back. Nevertheless, Super Trouper Azhar (sorry, wrong decade) took one to the team and squeezed himself into them for the sake of creating a fitness video that was only a whisker away from needing an 18 certificate.

There was much less team spirit over at the Beat Battle video shoot, which saw Duane take over the editing process and remove pretty much every scene that showed the martial arts element of the class. It was left looking like a deleted scene from One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, with Laura and a group of unfortunate street dancers flailing around, marching on the spot and occasionally lifting one knee.

Hardly inspiring stuff, and not much use against a mugger.

Unsurprisingly then, Ricky faced some tough questions at the pitch to Fitness First; questions like: "did you actually do any research?", "how is this any different from our body combat class" and "why is your video so bad?" (I may have made that last one up).

However, he actually handled them very well indeed, reeling off information about 'core stability' and the fact that dance related fitness is popular at the moment. His answers were so good that it probably took the panel's mind off the fact that he's called Ricky Martin for at least a minute. Although they no doubt carried on humming She Bangs under their breath.

Stephen, captain of the Groove Armada, didn't do quite as well at his pitches. Despite the fact Tom had already pointed out that the space hoppers and hula hoops could pose a storage issue, he didn't have much to say when the gyms asked where they'd keep all the 80s tat Groove Train came with.

But at least he offered them the equipment at 1980s prices to fit in with the retro theme:

"How much for the space hoppers, you ask? Er, £1. No, £2. 50p? A shilling?"

Compared to that shambles, it was a shame Team Beat Battle went on to lose.

One gym offered Ricky's team 5k to develop the idea but as that's just the cost of a typical two month gym membership at today's rates, this was effectively a bit of a consolation prize. In contrast, Virgin Active decided Groove Train's combination of space hoppers and hula hoops meant it was child friendly enough to use as a family class and bought £12,000 worth of licenses. The fools.

The Disco Divas' (frankly undeserved) prize was a trip to a spa/swimming complex, where Azhar still ended up wearing more clothes than he did in the video.

Ricky brought Laura and Duane back into the boardroom, Laura because... well, who knows. The girls have been falling at every hurdle so far, so he probably thought she'd act as a sort of lightning rod.

Duane was brought in as Ricky felt their naff, uninformative video was the reason their pitch wasn't accepted. Lord Sugar agreed, and Duane became the latest candidate to ride in the tear-filled Taxi of Failure.

Next week's task: reinventing the wheel.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1420535 2012-04-12T10:18:01-04:00 2012-06-12T05:12:01-04:00

Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-wardle/ Apprentice candidates got in common?

Well, nothing, as it happens: because whereas Del Boy could have made a fortune selling broken tat to idiots, his Apprentice counterparts couldn't sell half price cracked ice and miles and miles of carpet tiles if their lives (or rather careers) depended on it.

In this week's junk-flogging task, each team were assigned £1000 and told they had to buy vintage stock to sell to hipsters with no sense of perspective or irony (i.e. all hipsters) from two small shops on Brick Lane.

So, what do you think of when you hear the word 'vintage'?

A) classic, timeless style, b) well loved antiques or c) A rusty pan stolen from a skip?

If your answer was c), chances are you'd have fitted in well in Team Phoenix, headed up by Tom. After all, why buy stock when you could rummage around in the bins behind an auction house? It's a 100% profit margin; if you don't get caught by the police.

Luckily for freecycling Adam, the coppers didn't make an appearance and he made off with a couple of radiator drying racks too. He no doubt thought that until then the inhabitants of Shoreditch had been holding their pink socks, drainpipe jeans and US trucker hats against any heat sources they could find, praying that a visionary genius would one day visit them to sell some kind of drying solution.

Laura decided to put herself forward to be team leader of Sterling as she's allegedly set up retail units before. Unfortunately for them, the rest of the team accepted her application without first checking she didn't mean one of those pretend grocery stalls they sell in the Early Learning Centre.

She then decided, apropos of nothing, that they should 'upcycle' their stock in order to add value. In case you're not sure what upcycling means: the definition is 'painting Union flags on broken chairs'.

You'll find it in your Apprentice dictionary of misinterpreted phrases, along with "don't look a gift horse in the eye": Duane's stand out quote of the night. If you think that sounds whimsical and charming, please note that he was clearing a dead person's property out of their house at the time in order to sell it to idiots wearing gigantic glasses.

Despite his team's equally Gollum-like acquisitiveness, Team Tom didn't have much stock when it came to open their shop - 'Retro Station'.

No matter how they arranged their handful of items, the space still looked emptier than the candidates' souls. It was the retail equivalent of spreading a small amount of butter over too much bread, triple spacing an essay in order to make it look longer or my spinning out this sentence when in fact the first metaphor did the job perfectly well.

Aware that a picture of their shop was being included in dictionaries to illustrate the word 'sparse', Team Retro hit the car boot sale, negotiating with such ferocity they were told they could have a blue glass ashtray for £1 so long as they promised to go away.

If the car boot seller thought they were pushy, she should count herself lucky she didn't have to interact with Jane over in Team Sterling. She spent the majority of the task prowling the lane outside their shop (Vintage Gold) hassling potential customers so aggressively it was like watching Hipsters vs Predator.

The stock was almost as threatening: particularly the very odd looking suitcase they'd fitted with legs. Also, there were so many Union Jacks everywhere customers would have been forgiven for thinking they'd wandered into a version of DFS run by the British National Party, not to mention the fact that the 'rustic' leaves they scattered everywhere made it look like a haunted house.

Predictably, Team 'Haunted, Leafy, Racist Version of DFS' lost.

Team leader Laura dragged Gabrielle back into the boardroom: she'd been put in charge of upcycling despite being about as creative as - well - an Apprentice candidate. Laura also brought Jane back too due to the fact that she only made £10 despite intimidating the shorts-and-tweed-jacket wearing, Vanilla Ice-haired inhabitants of Brick Lane so much we almost felt sorry for them.

Apparently Lord Sugar can't forgive a lack of sales ability (even though the prize has changed and now has very little to do with sales) meaning Jane was fired.

It's a shame really: we'll miss looking at her pouty, disappointed face. It was the expression equivalent of a dead kitten, or a harrowing, bitter argument with your spouse after a night out. ]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1405493 2012-04-05T19:00:00-04:00 2012-06-05T05:12:01-04:00

Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-wardle/
However, from the panicked behaviour of the candidates throughout this week's condiment-making task you'd have been forgiven for thinking they'd never heard of relishes, mustards and chutneys before. This was odd, given the enlightening dockside lecture about the history of the spice trade they'd been treated to at the initial briefing:

"One of the commodities that used to come into these docks, was things like cinnamon and saffron."

Well, that's cheating really; Lord Sugar practically did the work for them. On you go, teams, one lot of you can make saffron jam, the other - cinnamon ketchup.

Delicious.

In order to mix things up a bit (or create candidate chutney, if you will) Lord Sugar sent Nick and Duane over to Team Sterling, who have lost every task to date. Katie went over to Team Phoenix and was welcomed by a guffawing Adam:

"We do things differently here. Like winning. Ahaha."

Adam has clearly never been introduced to the concepts of a) hubris b) foreshadowing c) the phrases 'pride goes before a fall' or 'famous last words' and d) not being a smug git.

Over in Team Sterling, perennially frustrated 'food professional' Jane was quick to jump into the fray with a lecture on healthy eating; telling her team mates that the chutney market in the UK is very crowded and also any product with more than 73g per 100g of salt wouldn't be allowed on sale.

The result? Sterling decided to make a 'luxury' (read: gloopily unhealthy) chutney. Luckily for her, Jane had already set her expression in a droopy pout before finding out she'd been overruled, so at least she didn't have to waste any energy changing it.

In contrast, Team Phoenix decided to go with a 'Mediterranean' inspired tomato sauce (read: ketchup with flecks of basil). Instead of playing it safe and calling it 'Foreign Sauce: Tastes A Bit Like Abroad', they decided to name their product Belissimo, which means absolutely nothing at all in Italian.

Bellissimo, on the other hand, means something along the lines of 'very very beautiful'. But - and apologies if you're someone who is physically attracted to sauces - that wasn't a particularly sensible name either, so it's possibly for the best that they misspelled it.

Possibly.

For all that Phoenix weren't terribly good at creating a brand, they were quite good at creating a product: even if it did look a little bit like bottled scrapings from a slaughterhouse floor.

Team Sterling weren't quite so fortunate, partially because whiny-faced Jane wasted a lot of time wrangling over the recipe ('I'm a food professional') and partially because they put so much chilli in their pineapple chutney that it was reclassified as a chemical weapon and confiscated by UN inspectors.

Ok, that's an exaggeration. But they certainly couldn't take it to the trade pitches Lord Sugar had 'laid on' for them (is there anything in the UK that he hasn't reclined against?), leading to an extremely entertaining scene that saw Team Sterling attempting to pitch an invisible product to a deeply unimpressed panel.

Emperor's New Chutney, anyone?

Despite that - fairly massive - setback, they rallied and managed to produce some spicy yellow goo to sell to the general public. And they were fairly successful, despite their repeated assertions to buyers that they 'only used locally-sourced, British ingredients'.

Apprentice Chutney: pick up a jar from your friendly, neighbourhood pineapple farm today.

At the same time, Team Never-Lose were struggling as they hadn't made enough of their congealed tomato-cement product. The solution? They increased the price to £3.95 a bottle.

Unsurprisingly- as the sauce didn't come with a free car- they failed to sell enough, handing Team Sterling a fairly easy win.

As team leader, Katie was in a bit of a jam. Looks like she picked the wrong week to join the boys. Luckily for her, Lord Sugar couldn't forgive Michael's poor efforts on the sales sub-team so he got the chop.

A bit unfair really: the other team had far more to sell in the first place. Michael would never have been able to ketchup (sorry). ]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1387401 2012-03-29T07:25:39-04:00 2012-05-29T05:12:01-04:00

Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-wardle/
It sounds so simple, doesn't it? But bear in mind that these are people who couldn't find their rear ends with both hands, a sat nav and a detailed guide to human anatomy.

It was always going to go wrong.

When you think of a household product just waiting to be invented, most people (ie me) would come up with a robotic wine waiter linked by Wi-Fi to an intelligent glass that notified it when your drink was almost empty. Or possibly a small personal helicopter to transport you to the kitchen.

Not the Apprentice candidates. The girls' team (Sterling) reckoned that the biggest problem facing householders today is the potential for toddlers to get water on the bathroom floor while you're washing them. They decided to market a Perspex splash screen that you attach to the side of the bath, making the entire experience not unlike visiting your child in a very small, damp prison.

If you think that's silly, don't worry: the boys weren't far behind. Duane came up with a desktop composter that looked like a cross between Darth Vader's helmet and a Bodum Express coffee maker. Because that's what you want on your desk: rotting vegetable waste.

And you thought your colleague who eats mackerel for lunch was antisocial.

Adam had a marginally more innovative idea: marigold gloves with scourers attached so you could wash up while you...er...washed up. He was overruled, possibly because the name he had chosen ('Magic Hands') sounded a bit like an edited extract from some sexual harassment case notes, and also because Azhar claimed that something like that had already been invented.

So they went with their entirely unique and innovative 'bin' idea instead. Write that word down: b-i-n. You've never seen anything like it before.

The boys trundled off to pitch their cabbage-cafetière, but the girls got there before them, hitting Amazon with a wildly ambitious minimum order suggestion of one million units for their 'Splish Splash' bath screen.

That's the equivalent of one screen for every resident of Birmingham with about 30,000 left over: roughly enough for the inhabitants of West Somerset. Luckily, they thoughtfully included cider can holders in the screen design.

Oh, sorry: those are for waterproof crayons, apparently. Never mind.

Team leader Jane also became flustered about numbers and pricing, something that's happened at pretty much every Apprentice pitch since the series began. Future candidates please note: it might be a good idea to brush up on your GCSE maths before applying.

Team Phoenix didn't fare much better. It took approximately three seconds for the Amazon buyers to point out that bins already exist. I know? Can you believe it? If only I'd known about that product sooner: I've been storing my rubbish in the washing machine for years.

While all this was going on, Lancastrian Jenna and extravagantly eye shadowed Maria had a spat over minimum order quantities that set the tone for the entire second half of the episode.

Viewers would have been forgiven for thinking they'd tuned into an all-female version of Fight Club, although thankfully the girls all kept their tops on. The arguing continued in the board room, because (predictably) Team Sterling lost.

Apparently people already have Perspex screens to prevent bath time splashing. They're called shower curtains.

Jane brought Maria and Jenna back into the boardroom. Maria because she fell asleep in the car, and Jenna...actually, that wasn't very clear. Possibly because she looks like a woollen version of Catherine Tate who's been shrunk in a hot wash.

Maria was fired, but all in all it was a very poor show indeed. The lack of product innovation combined with the girls' near constant arguments and the boys bland approach to pitching meant they all deserved to spend their evening in the Café Of Failure. Instead, the boys got to go to celebrity hangout The Ivy for dinner, although they were confined to a private room.

Next week's pointless prize from Lord Sugar: an invisible unicorn.
]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1381878 2012-03-27T06:57:16-04:00 2012-05-27T05:12:02-04:00

Hilary Wardle http://www.huffingtonpost.com/hilary-wardle/ X Factor.

The lights dim. Spotlights pick out Louis Walsh, Simon Cowell and Sharon Osbourne. Suddenly, music starts playing and they launch into a pitch perfect and skilfully choreographed rendition of 'I Gotta Feeling' by the Black Eyed Peas. Sharon does the splits without missing a note, while Louis and Simon build to a rousing crescendo standing back to back.

The audience go wild.

Amused by that image? Well, you should be: it's quite funny. But shouldn't people judging potential music acts be able to sing, dance and perform themselves?

That's definitely the thinking behind The Voice, BBC1's answer to X Factor (Saturdays, BBC1). No one could dispute that Sir Tom 'National Treasure' Jones has a good set of pipes on him. Or that Will.I.Am, despite his love of inserting unnecessary punctuation into perfectly good names, is a skilled musician. Jessie J is a talented singer and...well, there's some bloke from Irish soft rock band The Script too. I'm far too old to know if he's any good or not, so let's move on.

The opening performance by these four judges - sorry, 'coaches' - highlighted the fact that this really is a singing contest rather than the deluded-wannabe-mocking festival that rival programmes Britain's Got Talent and X Factor have become.

Underlining the fact that it's 'all about the voice' is the rather odd central idea: the judges all turn their back while the auditionee is performing so they can't judge acts on appearance or age. If they like the singer, they turn around.

Effective, yes. Odd? Certainly. It makes it look like the judges are all in a massive huff with the singer: at least at the beginning of the performance.

But if they like The Voice (TM), they spin round like incredibly well groomed Bond villains. If only one spins, that's fine: that musician or singer joins their team. If they all spin, the judges have to fight it out, begging the artist to 'pick them' and making a case for why they'd be a good manager.

To woo the first 'Voice', Will.I.Am (Bombastic Spice) attempted to display his extensive knowledge of global music markets, but ended up just listing the names of countries he'd heard of: "Kazakhstan, Bolivia, Wales...er...Bolivia". He also boasted, joked, jumped on stage and even offered his services as a roadie at one point.

In contrast, Jessie J (Empathetic Spice) was calmer and more sensible, telling the girl she 'understands where she's coming from', as her success is more recent. Sir Tom Jones OBE (Impressive Spice) says he'd be good at helping her pick songs and The Bloke From That Irish Band (Not Famous Spice) says he can play an instrument, so he's a good mentor for, er, people who play instruments.

It gives the power back to the performer: something that's been sadly lacking in pretty much every incarnation of the competitive TV singing genre since it started.

Unfortunately for the acts, there's not that much to choose between the coaches. They're all famous, impressive people. The producers should have given them more bargaining power: baskets of puppies, helicopter rides, champagne etc.

"If you pick me, you can have this porsche. Full of unicorns."

After all that, it's a bit of a shame when absolutely none of them turn around for the second performer, an amiable shaven-headed chap who sang a Coldplay cover. He seems a bit familiar...wait, is it...could it be...

Yes, it's Sean Conlon from 90s hit boy band Five! Oh, if only he'd done "If Ya Gettin' Down". But sadly, it's not to be.

Poor Sean Conlon from Five.

Still, the judges gave him some positive comments and reminded him that they only get to choose ten performers each, that it's nothing personal, etc. It's a far cry from the 'what were you thinking? You sound like a cat that's been sucked into a combine harvester' attacks we've grown used to in recent years.

Televised rejection has almost never been so gentle, it's like voyaging back in time to the more innocent days of Fame Academy.

For viewers who enjoy exploitative audition stages, it might seem a bit too clean-cut and straightforward: but who cares about them? In Victorian times, they'd have been the ones taking guided tours of the asylum. For others, this will come as a breath of fresh air in what has- until now- been an increasingly harsh TV environment for singers and musicians.]]>