Reviewed by FRANCES GRANT
Tycoon Donald Trump describes his reality show The Apprentice (TV2, 7.30pm) as the longest job interview in history and, for once, the most self-congratulatory man on the planet is not exaggerating.
Over 16 long, gruelling weeks The Apprentice has created an inflationary universe of talking up one's own talents, drive and self-worth to the limits of this viewer's endurance. For example, candidates who at the start of the show boasted of giving 110 per cent, by the final episodes had upped their commitment ratings to 130 to 200.
With this show, Trump, if nothing else, has created a big ego bubble. Selling yourself short is against the very laws of nature in the Trump World Tower.
Perhaps the wannabe entrepreneurs cannot be blamed for their excesses when the man they are so desperately trying to impress is a meister of the superlative. Everything the Donald, as he's sometimes called, does and builds is the best, the biggest, the most beautiful, the most impressive - and the mogul describes himself as New York's biggest property developer.
Others would disagree. Real-world rivals have disputed Donald's claim to premier place in the property tycoon pantheon. Still, The Apprentice presents Trump's career as a heroic struggle and triumph of the will, glossing over the less stellar moments and performers in the Trump portfolio.
The show has been a kind of executive Olympics in which the 16 candidates were put through a series of tasks to compete for the thrill of being hired by Trump to oversee one of his projects, in his words "a dream job".
But the struggles, the shameless toadying and mindless corporate culture worship of the candidates have paled in comparison with the cheesy excesses of the show's host.
The Apprentice has resurrected the icon of 80s greed-is-good culture as the star of his own glam soap, living an American dream where success is a corporate jet, acres of marble and the joy of owning one of the most kitsch entertainment venues in the world. The Donald has reigned supreme in the boardroom, with advisers - hatchet-faced blonde Carolyn and George, who looks like a better groomed version of The Sopranos' Uncle Junior.
The boss has mugged relentlessly to the camera, sporting a long, hard stare oddly reminiscent of the expression of disapproval favoured by Paddington Bear.
In tonight's final, Harvard graduate Kwame and self-made man Bill slug it out in the ultimate task - managing two charity bashes, a golf tournament and a Jessica Simpson concert.
Expect the Dallas-style theme music, used relentlessly during the show to fill in the fact that selling lemonade or packing PR goodie bags is really not all that exciting, to take on a positively apocalyptic note as the show draws towards the finish.
Kwame and Bill compete for the grand prize of, in their own words, moving up an echelon in their lifestyle and creating long-term, "generational" wealth.
The Apprentice has been a bitchfest, an orgy of blame, back-stabbing and mindless loyalty to whoever is the powerbroker of the moment.
Tonight's round-up of the first season (another is on the way) has two lessons: when the teams were gender-based, women proved unbeatable, or as one bloke put it, "I'm sick and tired of getting our asses handed to us".
Yet in the real world, there are so few women in the boardroom. And, as Omarosa's propensity to lie when the going gets sticky shows, corporate culture really does not bring out the best in people.
The Apprentice brings out the worst in corporate culture
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