Lord Sugar's show is on the verge of turning sour

Here was an ordinary bloke, talking about ordinary, everyday things, and getting hot under the collar about the same kind of issues that rile you and I. He was one of us. No pretentions, and no arrogant expectations for his 15 minutes of fame.

He was an innocent pawn in a new type of show which conducted a fascinating fly on the wall experiment into what happened when a group of ordinary people were forced to live in one another's pockets, 24 hours a day, racked by boredom and increasingly crippled by insecurity. It was proper, honest, reality TV.

Craig is still dining out on that success, with TV appearances, product endorsements, and after dinner speaking dates. Few people who were watching telly at the turn of the century can fail to be familiar with his name.

Now, hands up who can say the same about Rachel Rice? You know, Rachel from Torfaen, in South Wales? The model, actress and drama teacher. No? Didn't think so.

Well, she won Big Brother eight years later, when audiences had slumped to little more than 2.8 million, and producers were turning to an increasingly elaborate bunch of exhibitionist freaks in a desperate attempt to make the latest series more shocking, gaudy, and sexually charged than the last.

The moment that we realised every housemate was simultaneously aware that they were being watched by TV cameras was when it lost its innocence, its relevance, and its connection with the mass market audience.

Which brings me to the latest series of The Apprentice, Sir Alan Sugar's annual 'process' hoping to snare the next big corporate thing.

This is its Rachel Rice year – eight years on from its debut in 2005.

And one of the BBC's flagships is in grave danger of heading into that same televisual wilderness that ultimately persuaded Channel Four to pull the plug on BB. Because the show which was once a perfect mix of vicious job interview and personnel pantomime has degenerated into little more than an elaborately choreographed farce.

There isn't a humble, remotely likeable trait in any of this year's line-up. They're a bonkers bunch of jargon-spouting airheads prepared to ritually humiliate themselves just to get their cocky faces on telly. It's Total Wipeout for corporate clowns.

"I'm a great of my generation." declares one. "My effortless superiority will take me all the way," smarms another. Worst of all, a third airhead claims to have "the sex appeal of Jessica Rabbit and the brain of Einstein".

It's not entirely their fault, of course. The producers picked them from tens of thousands of hopefuls, and no doubt egged them on into exaggerating their eccentricities.

But there can't be anyone in the land who still believes The ­Apprentice is a serious, credible search for Britain's talented ­tycoons of tomorrow.

The class of 2013's outlandish boasting simply doesn't surprise us any more. It's just downright annoying. And one of television's must-watch shows is becoming a tedious turn-off.

Sir Alan is no fool. He's made zillions by evolving his business empire to prevent it becoming stale, and won't want to be associated with a show which is mocked by the failure of its so-called winners.

Soon, it won't just be Sir Alan who is pointing the finger.