1. (8) Raef. After an early stumble – “The spoken word is my tool! Sales relies on being able to communicate efficiently and persuade; and those are two abilities I have… errr, up to full capacity!” – and also lauding the ubiquitous human gangrene of Myleene Klass with “Bravo! Bravo!”, he came into his own when he valiantly defended Sara from the brutality of the loathsome Alex (who only cravenly joined in once Lee had initially savaged her).
2. (3) Sara. Utterly doomed. It really doesn’t matter how much she contributes now, the others see her as weak and will continually drag her back into the boardroom until Sir Alan fires her simply because of her numerous appearances.
3. (2) Lucinda. Became embroiled in one of her tiresome arguments with Helene again. She skips through life seeking out conflict like a bored child jumping in puddles on the walk home from school.
4. (5) Michael. In his time in the house, he appears to have contracted the Wereyob virus from Lee, as his tongue couldn’t have been more masculine than for his “Come on! Come on!” exhortation had he installed a pub car park on his taste buds and was running a book on which violent regular would win the most bare-knuckle fights while he shouted himself hoarse from the sidelines.
5. (4) Jenny Maguire. From the side she looks about 103-years-old, while when she plasters on the make-up it makes her facial features separate and wander off like icebergs detaching from the Antarctic ice sheet and drifting off to melt in the oceanic depths.
6. (10) Helene. As each week passes so her face more resembles a map of Hell, with all the little levels of diabolic fury and eternal perdition.
7. (12) Alex. He has only moved up in the chart because other people were more repellent. The human equivalent of an impatient surgical knife, opening up wounds all over the place with little concern about how much blood is spilt. He is also the worst poet in the world, but because he is handsome he is indulged and gets deluded about his talent.
8. (12) Kevin. As he was doomed from the moment he spouted the same sort of despotic speech that would make even Saddam Hussein blush, Kevin was always going to be fired. His pitches to the card companies were as screwdriver-in-jugular excruciating as Nargis in series 2 (he even preached to the buyers), and spoken in a voice that sounds like a quiet extinction. They were made even more incredulous by the fact he wanted to buy a Ferrari, which is the ultimate aim of people who when they die their brains are donated to beaches for children to make squishy sandcastles that won’t fall apart under the parching glare of the sun.
9. (1) Lee. After a few weeks of relative calm, Lee revealed his true colours in a rant against the blameless Sara. In fact what it did do was to evince the terminal symptoms of that most fateful strains of lycanthropy – Lee is a Wereyob, a feral beast capable of communicating in the basest argot of “Simple as that”, “End of story”, “If you don’t step up to the mark”, the sort of atrophied language that poses as much of a threat to human evolution today as the Black Death did in the 15th century.
Lee is one of those obnoxiously loud people who seek to tyrannise meeker people into their dogma through the volume of their voice, and who it has been scientifically proven share more genes with fire alarms than with the rest of us.
10. (11) Claire. The black-eyed cliché witch uses a technique she showed off when confiding in Jenny about her fears over Kevin’s “over-competence”. “Kevin is stressed and I don’t want to push him over the edge,” she remarked. But she was only saying this to plant the seed in Jenny’s mind that Kevin is weak, and relied on Jenny extrapolating that it would be in both their interests to push him “over the edge” to save their skins should Renaissance lose.
11. (7) Jenny Celery. Like all those other people who overuse the word “passionate”, she is a slab of monolithic automation who has a circuit board where everybody else has a heart. And once again, no part of her face between her eyebrows and lower lip actually moves as if it is the demilitarised zone between North and South Korea where no entity dares step on pain of death. And when her lower jaw does move, it does so with the unwieldy grace of the space shuttle docking at the International Space Station.
12. (13) The Apprentice production team. A standing ovation for another telegraphed firing. Kevin’s priggish pomposity about how many houses he owned, his Porsche and his dreams of owning a Ferrari, signposted his demise more lucidly than if he’d gone down to answer the “bastard phone call” at 6.30am and had a plastic bag wrapped round his head and bullet unloaded into the back of his neck. People other than the slovenly human slurry who guffaw over Chris Moyles each morning like Roman courtiers fawning over Nero watch The Apprentice.