Richard Inder: My dream team for the NZ Dragons' Den

Reality TV is rarely edifying. It dresses up in the clothing of documentary - a study of human nature and endeavour.

It is, of course, usually anything but dispassionate observation. It is voyeurism, plain and simple. We watch because we get to share experiences that are most often private or we would generally prefer to be private - conflict, sex, success, failure, medical emergencies.

The success of business reality television shows betrays the dirty secret of the genre better than most.

People watch The Apprentice because they love the brutal finality of The Don's "you're fired" and the door closing on the promise of wealth so immense that even in the hands of a middle-aged man with a bad hairdo it is enough to attract one of the world's most beautiful women and permit indulgences as vulgar as a gold-plated Manhattan penthouse.

The popular appeal of the show (and of Britain's Dragons' Den) is their weekly offering of public humiliation. Both to a large degree are founded on the premise that the stars - the five dragons or the ageing Donald Trump - have through their own business success earned the right to pillory and humiliate.

The New Zealand version of Dragons' Den, due to screen this year, will offer more of the same.

Property developer Sir Robert Jones established the tone with his declaration that he would not invest in anybody with bad grammar or beards, or any fat women or people with sunglasses on top of their heads.

The National Business Review publisher Barry Colman and CallPlus founder Annette Presley, although never conjugally linked, are the closest we have to Donald and Ivana Trump.

The young entrepreneur Paul Webb and Julie Christie, founder of the Dragons' Den production house Eyeworks Touchdown, look like ring-ins. However, at least the veteran producer of shows such as DIY Rescue and Treasure Island is more than equipped to inject the necessary ingredients if the Kiwi dragons turn out to be dull.

Such talent, despite Eyeworks Touchdown's claims that those selected were at the top of the producer's list, was to be expected.

Even the British version of the show failed to attract the heavy hitters of the UK economy. Only two of the five British dragons - Duncan Bannatyne and Theo Paphitis - made it on to the Sunday Times 2006 rich list, and then only at 348th and 444th respectively. Peter Jones figured on the 2004 list at 223rd.

Absent were masters such as steel magnate Lakshmi Mittal, retail king Philip Green, Virgin group founder Richard Branson, bagless vacuum inventor James Dyson, and the easyGroup founder Stelios Haji-Ioannou, all who figure in the top 100.

Imagine if such people could be convinced to front up. My picks for the New Zealand dragons would be from:

Lloyd Morrison: The Wellington investment banker who, according to the National Business Review rich list, has amassed $90 million spotting a wide range of investment opportunities. The affable and dapper Morrison would not suffer those who did not make the cut, but would be sure to let them down in a way that would only amuse the entrepreneur, the audience and even the other dragons.

Peter Masfen: The former chairman of Montana wines before it was sold to Allied Domecq is worth more than $325 million, according to the NBR. Aided by a dedicated Auckland-based team of investment professionals, he runs his owns dragon's den. He would bring the brooding presence of big money and commercial gravitas. He would not even need to say much - a grunt, a carefully posed question or an occasional wave of the hand would deliver the necessary quality.

Craig Heatley: Known for putting his money on the bleeding edge of economic development. He founded Sky and has recently put his funds into the yet-to-be-proven text messaging venture Plus SMS and wireless telecoms provider Woosh. The NBR says he is worth $155 million. Reportedly laid back, but capable of the aggression needed to bring matters to a head.

Neville Jordan: Chairman of venture capitalist Endeavour Capital, worth $70 million, founded his fortune in MAS Technology, a telecoms company he later floated on the Nasdaq.

A partnership with Jenny Morel, founder of venture capitalist Number 8 Ventures (and wife of Reserve Bank governor Alan Bollard), would bring piercing intellect and lines of questioning illustrating all that is required from a budding capitalist.

Andrew Bagnall: The founder of Gullivers Travel is cashing up and ready to roll, having just sold the travel agency he floated on the exchange last year. The racing car enthusiast, worth more than $200 million, would give a hint of frivolity that business success can offer.

There are, of course, others.

Financiers Sir Michael Fay and David Richwhite could use the show to flossy up their profiles before a return from their Geneva exile.

Former National minister Philip Burdon or George Gould could lend a touch of old-money class. Property developer Josephine Grierson or Kathmandu's Jan Cameron could show how sisters do it.

Graeme Hart is another obvious choice. But the billionaire is likely to bid for the ideas lock stock and barrel, shutting the entrepreneur out of the picture. He also has rather more money than the entrepreneurs need.

The Warehouse's Stephen Tindall is a little overexposed. And in any case talk over the future of his holding in the retailer just fails to disappear, suggesting his mind is elsewhere.

These people have real commercial clout and reputations beyond reproach. Married with a format where stupid proposals are weeded out before filming, they would provide a window on venture capitalism and a template for those keen to have a go.