In a league table of difficulty, selling coffee in Islington comes well below selling fridges to Eskimos. Islingtonians are like characters in The West Wing: they find walking difficult without a corrugated tankard of cappuccino in their hands.

It takes special incompetence not to sell to them. Naturally, however, half the new cast of The Apprentice still failed at the task as television’s nastiest beauty contest returned, deservedly promoted to BBC One, for a third season last night.

In The Apprentice Sir Alan Sugar chooses a young executive for a £100,000-a-year apprenticeship in his company. Over 12 weeks, the nation, meanwhile, decides which of 16 bumptious dreams it would most like smashed. In fact, the greatest punishment for aggression, duplicity and greed would be getting the Amstrad job. But we cannot afford to think like that. It would ruin everything.

Sir Alan is like a bear with a sore everything. “This is a job interview from Hell,” he promised the 16. But the wannabes would test anyone’s patience. “I am young and dynamic. I am not here to make friends,” said a scary woman. “When you can break bricks with your bare hands you believe you can do anything,” threatened a crop-haired bloke. “I have a huge amount of self-belief,” boasted a blonde, as if that were a good thing.

The candidates look meaner, if not leaner, than last year’s, and more likely to fight.

A tubby car sales manager emerged as head and tummy more irritating than the rest. “I am very ruthless. I want to be a success. I want to be a winner. I am a winner,” said Andy Jackson. All might have been well had he let the marketing consultant and the car salesman fight it out for the honour of skippering the boys’ team through week one.

Instead, ego enflamed, Andy threw his balls into the ring and the lads decided he was their man. “We work till we bleed,” he promised during a group hug. Then Sir Alan pulled a fast one and swapped the leaders. “I could not be happier. This is the best thing I ever hoped for,” Andy told the girls.

Soon they were buying several hundred litres too much milk and selling coffee for £1.50 outside a café charging 90p.

Although the storytelling in the film was uncharacteristically confused, it was clear that the girls were making a hash, not coffee, under his leadership.

“Andy, nice, not outstanding in any way, not really for the business world,” summarised transport development manager Gerri Blackwood, who does not believe in verbs and may be this year’s Ruth Badger.

Sir Alan agreed, and Andy “I am a winner” Jackson was fired. He chucked down his folder. His eyes moistened. “An absolute travesty,” he complained in his cab to obscurity.

So that leaves 15. They are still shadowy figures to us. Yet, within weeks, we shall know and despise them as intimately as our own colleagues.

Editor's choice

• The 100 Best Films of the Decade
• 70 facts you didn't know about Marvel
• The 50 Biggest Movies Of 2010