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And as Ben, the Wannabe Apprentice Team Skip lazed on the sun drenched beach in Sardinia, with the water gently lapping at his feet, he could almost hear, as his eyes gently closed, the gravelly yet familiar tones reminiscent of Sid James, yet belonging to Sir Alan……..’It’s not going to be easy……no-one said it would be….there’s two teams, we’ve arranged  for them both to play at home on the same evening …one’s in the First Division…one lower down somewhere ..’We’ve arranged for them to play Wilderness and some other bunch of No Hopers ..it’s simple enough…all you lot have to do is skipper them….the one who gets the most points will win….the other will be fired…’

‘But Sir Alan, that’s not fair’ , was the general comment, ‘…the Firsts are struggling, division one…the seconds are on a roll’…’.Not my problem……. nobody gave me a chance when I formed Amstrad, up against the big boys….. ( ‘against all odds’, murmured Nick)….. against all odds……(‘pulled through’, said Margaret in an aside)…pulled through…that’s the trouble with you lot…(‘younger generation,’ whispered Nick) …younger generation….need (‘spoonfeeding’, they said in unison)…. spoonfeeding ….and just what are you two waste of spacers sniggering at ?,’ asked Sir Alan…’Right – you’re both Fired, been meaning to do that for a long time, bl**dy yesmen, no original thoughts of your own, trying to raise your profile, interviews in the press…well I tell you what… you’ll have plenty of opportunity to do that now…now…now You’re Fired !’

‘Frances, show them out…and whilst you’re about it..You’re Fired too ! waste of space…stupid simpering voice..’Sir Alan will see you now ‘ or ‘This is Frances from Sir Alan’s office….’never says anything else - just sits there doing her nails- well she’ll have plenty of time now to do her bl**dy cuticles ...!

So, it was going to be tough…they all knew that and so it proved for the Firsts anyway….on  blisteringly hot courts  1 and 2, the silence of the still night only broken by, as one Wilderness player put it : ‘The bonk bonk  thirteigh forteigh of the tennis players’ on the adjacent courts. We looked at each other and together said, ‘Yep, our tennis players like bonking lots at this time of year….’ How we laughed, oh dear, oh dear, tears streamed down our faces!

But back to the match, a gritty performance from the Firsts, Justin pluckily winning two games, Jermaine giving his all and sprawled out on the grass afterwards in a state of near exhaustion, Billy turned out, Andy coming back strongly …but in vain, and then there was Olli…when all about are losing their heads and their matches…Olli is unperturbed (‘out of it’, some would say), just keeps plodding on- line and length, tight, good width coupled with several very nice winners…and he did ! Our only victor on the night!

And the Seconds? faring any better- well, yes- indubitably on the cooler courts three and four. Garth, making it look hard work, Pascal deciding to make a guest appearance, Rich and then Boothy adding to the fun. Peter being given the run around by an older wiser cannier player…but Peter will have his revenge soon – of that there is no doubt !

And at the dinner table, the atmosphere was as heated as Nan’s sumptuous chilli as Sir Alan’s image was beamed in:

‘So, not so good then…tell me Garth, why did you wait until you were two down before you started to play? Bl**dy attention seeker or something are you? Not the first time either I understand ,’ he said turning to Nick for support …of which, for a change,  there was none as Nick having been fired was busy touting his story to the tabloids ..
‘Anyway, ‘Sir Alan carried on, only temporarily nonplussed, ‘and you Peter…thought you were better eh? Quicker ? still life in us old dogs, eh Margaret ?’…(who, having been fired was busy arranging a much needed face lift and talking to Max Clifford…)

‘Anyway,’ he continued hurriedly, spying her empty chair…’And now the Firsts…Bit of a shambles eh Justin? Get promotion then bit too far eh, out of your league, can’t cope…apart from you, Olli…your opponent injured or something……?’

‘As you know, always a difficult decision, but The Firsts- you were out of your league.   Justin…..you were the Skip, took them up… too far, too close to the sun…they melted…and so will you…..You’re Fired’

‘And Seconds, well, it’s a toss up..Peter we can forgive, young rookie, reminds me of meself not that long ago….Garth..errrm,  Boothie….poor treatment of your pa, can’t condone that..but Pascal…acting the Prima Donna, shall I shan’t I come to the party…you make a commitment son, you stick to it……Pas..You’re Fired ! ‘ and turning to the empty seats of his two ex-acolytes, he explained …’Had to do it…..see…he’s French…....if there’s one thing I can’t stand it’s the bl**ding Frogs…that’s what swung it…….’

And with that the image faded…and in Sardinia, Ben awoke with a start as the water lapped around his Ted Baker designer flipflops….it had been so real….was it a dream..? Weird or what ?

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