After losing this week's task, project leader Adam brings Ghazal and Katie into Sir Alan's board room with him...
Sir Alan: The task this week was to collect ten objects, for the cheapest price possible, and be back in the board room by 6 pm. It was a test of your negotiating skills, the Yellow Pages and London traffic. Adam, your team lost by 97 pence. 97 pence! What went wrong?
Adam: Have you heard of Nigella seeds?
Sir Alan: Yes, I put 'em on your bloody list.
Adam: Well, nobody else had. We had a nightmure trying to find them.
Ghazal: We did find some, Sir Alan.
Adam: Very late in the day.
Ghazal: I found a supplier at Stansted Airport.
Adam: I thought they just had planes there, but Ghazal found out they also sell obscure seeds wholesale.
Sir Alan: So why didn't you get them?
Adam: It were too late in the day. We had to get back here before 6 pm or get an eighty quid fine.
Sir Alan: What fine would you get if you arrived late, but with all ten objects?
Adam: Fifty quid.
Sir Alan: So what does that tell you?
Adam looks blank.
Adam: Eighty... take away the fifty. Er, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty. Forty. Erm, forty pounds, uh... saving?
Sir Alan: That's right! You'd have won the bloody task!
Adam looks shamed.
Sir Alan: Okay, why did you bring Katie into the board room?
Adam: She were down in the morning. Love sick for the posh kid you booted out last week.
Sir Alan: Getting personal, aren't you?
Katie: That's totally uncalled for, Adam!
Adam: It's true. I didn't have your full attention in the morning.
Katie: You were in a different car in a diffeent part of London!
Adam: I called you by phone all the time!
Katie: And bored me to tears. Seriously, he's Britain's Most Boring Man. He only has one setting: slow. Bringing personal issues into this is just unacceptable. Kristina and I both worked our arses off for this task! Grrrrr. You have no idea just how red my cheeks can get!
Sir Alan: Okay, okay, enough with the personal stuff.
Sir Alan adjusts his luminous tie, thinking.
Sir Alan: Gazelle, why are you here?
Ghazal: It's Ghazal.
Sir Alan: Gazelle, sorry.
Ghazal: Gha-zal.
Sir Alan: Gazeell?
Ghazal: Gha... Zal.
Sir Alan: Like the animal.
Ghazal: No, no.
Sir Alan: Tell it to OFCOM. Explain yourself.
Ghazal: I did was I was meant to do, the whole time. I'm a performer. Just give me a chance to prove to you what I can do.
Sir Alan: Y'know, I don't know if you can cut it, Gonzul. In the kitchen, you'd be the washer-up, not the chef -- if you follow the example.
Ghazal: I think you mean "analogy".
Sir Alan: I don't have allergies. What's that got to do with it?
Sir Alan sits back, exhales.
Sir Alan: Adam, I'm not a religious man, but you've been in the board room four times now. If that doesn't point to there being a God, I don't know what does. Maybe the Lord's trying to tell me something.
Adam: I'm a good negotiator--
Sir Alan: No you're not.
Adam: I'm a good seller--
Sir Alan: Hmmm.
Adam: I want this job. I want to be your apprentice.
Sir Alan: Beg.
Adam: What?
Sir Alan: Nothing. Right, Gunzel: I'm not sure about you. I think you still have to prove yourself, love.
Ghazal: Let me be project manager next week.
Sir Alan: Damn, saying that is like kryptonite to me. Right, you're safe. Okay, Katie: you've sat back in recent weeks, but now I can see your true colours. Are you a shrewd businesswoman, or just a scary Spitting Image puppet, I'm not sure. Adam, Adam, Adam: I dunno. 97 pence! Blimey! Y'know, I think God's talking to me...
Nick leans in.
Nick: It's me, Sir Alan. Fire him.
Sir Alan: Adam, you're fired.
Adam, Katie and Ghazal leave the board room. Katie's cheeks return to their natural hue in the taxi cab later.
