Natalie...nice Natalie went this evening.
Hmmmm, she was right though, it was hard to pick a candidate to scalp and eviscerate before the altar of the Big Sugar. Perhaps, this time, there really wasn't a candidate who deserved Sir Alan's boot up the botty. I thought, for the first time in this series, what a nice bunch of hardworking young wannabee-suits they were.
No hissy-fits, no back stabbing, no alpha-candidate chest beating...for once they all seemed to play nice. Sheeeesh, I even found myself warming to Tre, Hell, I actually found him utterly charming.
In fact, I think this is what The Big Sugar should have said:
'You know what? Nobody screwed up this week. The team that lost, did so simply because they had the misfortune of picking a pompous and talentless sloane.'
Yup, the utterly charmless Elizabeth Hoff, with her gaudy, over-priced-Athena-Cards...yes, those tacky photographs of lips.
So completely repulsive was she, that she actually managed to make this series' motley collection of Sir Alan Botty-lickers, look like a very respectable and humble ensemble of people. Bitching about the walls, the labels, the white wine...and then wheeling in her - obviously well connected - companion to tell 'em how to sell.
Actually, I think Adam, the used-car salesman, could probably teach Hoff and her manpanion a few things about selling, to be fair.
So, I'll round off this evening's rant with a few adjectives I picked a little earlier to describe the objectionable Ms Hoff:
Petulant, arrogant, pampered, talentless, privileged...and for good measure....greedy.