Just to prove it’s not only Mof who can jump on the Apprentice bandwagon, here’s a question that exercises us every year, but every year the answer is even more puzzling than the year before. Because, after all, if you’re interested in applying for this “incredible opportunity” with Surallen, surely you’ll have watched a few episodes to give yourself a clue what he’s looking for, and the sort of tasks he’ll be setting? No? That too simple for you? Yet again, it seems the phrase “too simple” is all too apposite for this latest crop of “candidates.”

I suppose like all reality shows The Apprentice is all about the suspension of disbelief. I mean, who honestly believes that the most talented young businesspeople in the country would be interested in earning £100k a year working for a company like Viglen, selling tired old tat and bottom-end consumer electronics to people who don’t know any better?

No, it’s not the job they’re after. It’s the exposure. The TV face time. The rapidly upped profile.

And as for talent, have any of them ever shown a single jot of it? Always assuming talent is measured by the jot. Talent used to itself be a measurement, of course. Way back in the days before reality meant the complete opposite, in a time when folk had an absolute talent of talent. Or something. But really. Come on. Pantsman?

As always, The Apprentice has attracted, and then selected, a bunch of people notable only for the size of their egos. People who inhabit a world where MBA stands for Massively Belligerent Arsehole. People who, like Ben in his dying breaths last night, can openly and transparently sit in front of Surallen and say things like “I’ve shown you I can perform at the highest level” and actually sound like they believe the raw horse manure dripping from their lips. It’s as if they are their own CVs made flesh. No matter how overblown the claim or how fatuous the achievement, it comes barrelling out of their mouths without any contact whatsoever with their brains.

Or people like the execrable Debra, who during the task can say something like “the rocking horse is the only credible option,” but when she’s in the boardroom will twist it around to become “I said the rocking horse was the BEST option, but there was another one,” or the even less prescriptive “the rocking horse was ONE option but there were others.” She doesn’t even, apparently, stop to consider that the entire viewing nation (who, for the purposes of The Apprentice, number something like 8 million) has just watched her lying through her teeth. It’s all part of the game. Quite why she thinks anyone would want to employ a lying bully is beyond me, but there’s no doubt it makes great telly.

And there’s the rub. Forget the job. Forget Surallen and the wonderful Nick and Margaret. What we love is watching a dwindling number of utter plonkers fail dismally at the simplest of tasks while shouting their mouths off about how great they are. After a gruelling working day, and with the weekend still a couple of days away, it’s great to settle back on the sofa, point a finger at the screen and laugh ourselves silly at what a useless bunch of wassocks they all are.

I don’t know how much longer Surallen can go on employing the winners. At the rate of one a year they’ll soon be sufficiently numerous to drag his organisation into the recycle bin, always assuming he gives them jobs more challenging than sharpening the pencils.