The opening scenes of The Apprentice – Lord Alan Sugar’s search for a new business partner – have become a yearly tradition on British TV. We meet a squad of suited and bodycon business dress-clad candidates, who seem to be competing to say the most ridiculous thing. “I’m like a lion in the business world. Fierce, hungry and ready to devour my prey,” says Chisola Chitambala, a contestant on the latest series, which is airing weekly on BBC One. “The level of competitiveness I have is disgusting! I am the human equivalent of a tank. Nothing gets in my way,” insists meal-prep entrepreneur Mia Collins. “I can sleep when I’m dead!” proclaims Amber-Rose Badrudin, while hair-transplant consultant Carlo Brancati boasts: “What others can earn in a month takes me one hour.” (This gives rise to the question: what are you doing here, then?)
The first series of The Apprentice premiered 20 years ago this month on BBC Two. The days when it felt like a genuinely exciting format are long gone, however, because it is now one of the most predictable shows on TV. Ratings have stalled, it’s being panned by critics and it has grown into a high-cringe spectacle – one that symbolises a wider slide in standards in reality TV and beyond.
