Get Me The Producer starts on Channel 4, Monday 15 October. It features Greg Dyke (Grey Dyke!) overseeing an Apprentice-style challenge in which 12 people new to TV perform a series of TV production-related tasks, all hoping they’ll be the one awarded a year-long contract with a leading indie (presumably Princess, who make this).

“Television?” snaps Greg. “It’s all about ideas. Simple as that!”. And then off we go. The iconography is all present and correct – opposing teams, white boards, water coolers, mentors. And fantastic non-sequitars …

“Let’s have a little fun being creative”. “I hate losing … I’m not allowed to play squash any more, put it that way. I can be quite – you know – violent”. “Only hold the potato once … chuck a banana in!”. Plus, my favourite: “How interesting is seeing a chicken really going to be? For five minutes? On British television?”

Alas, in practise, it’s a bit more Tycoon than Apprentice. Greg’s holed up in Brick Lane, seemingly living in a flat above a library, where he’s continually shuttling executive chairs around the office, and chewing on his spectacles. Described as an “education” commission by C4, it actually feels a bit like that – as though the reality show element is merely a fashionable fiction to get across messages about working in industry. But for all that, it’s still enough to hook me. 

“If you Google my name,” says team leader Karen Seeberg, “you’ll find out I was a James Bond girl. But I really don’t want that held against me”. In fact, if you follow her advice, the first thing you’ll find is her vanity site -www.karenseeberg.com - and a spot of cracker barrel philosophy: “Life is like a wild tiger. You can either lie down and let it lay its paw on your head … or sit on its back and ride it”. Hear her roar!

After a week in the corner, Tycoon‘s back, rubber-stamped as a failure, and ordered to spend the rest of its time on ITV1 making as little noise as possible in its new 10pm, half-hour slot. From the off, there’s been something implausibly listless about the show. There’s Peter’s meaningless declaration that, “We will make a tycoon in this country for the first time on television”, the shapeless working week, and the promise that in this evening’s episode, “Peter will close down another business if they don’t perform” (or, by implication if they do, then he won’t).

Tonight, Page 3 model and one-time Royal squeeze Lauren was suddenly doing deals with a partner in tow, while ex-karate champion and dotting husband Justin – who two weeks ago couldn’t negotiate his way out of a paper bag – was now clinching deals to sell 250,000 of them. In Tycoon stuff just happens.

For this episode, Peter decided to promote one of the hopefuls to the role of Temporary Jones, while he nipped off overseas. “I don’t believe my role is that easy,” he declared, pointing the finger at Justin. But why do it at all?

“I think he’s going to throw the cat amongst the pigeons,” was the boss’ reasoning. “And maybe we’ll get a chance to see the real Justin.” Mumsy gardener Cathy quite rightly complained, “We’re not here to be managed by Justin, so he’s going to have a problem with respect … you don’t want to be told by one of your peers what to do and when to do it”.

Utter nonsense in business terms (and this is a show in which its participants deliver regular bon mots prefaced, “In business …”) it did at least make for some fun at Tycoon Travel Lodge. Cello player and Frukka-turned-V:Tox magnate Elizabeth “Make it happen” Hackford was the one making the running, her mobile phone interrupting Justin’s meeting. The perspiring Welsh wannabe was full of half formed sentences. “Can you turn that off, please? … It’s only for a few minutes … It was mid-Cathy talking. It’s a little bit rude when people are …”

Then, later, as Elizabeth met with potential V:Tox frontperson Grace-off-of-last-year’s-Big Brother, Justin buzzed some more: “We need to have a meeting with everyone about targets and updates, sooner rather than later.” His employee’s unwillingness to break off the engagement only served to frustrate. “That’s okay,” he murmured ineffectually. “I’ll just communicate that back to Peter … your unwillingness to sort of … we’ve all got pressures.”

But still there was more. A later contretemps showed the man coming out of his shell by miming the actions of an outraged purse-clutching lady and declaring, “handbags!” to camera. All of this culminated in a further, final meeting. Here temporary boss met intemperate staff, the latter of whom turned on the waterworks, prompting a gloriously stiffened display of body language as Justin laid a comforting hand on her heaving shoulder. “All I just wanted was a little bit of cooperation … I haven’t got it. It’s been noticed by everybody. Don’t, er … that’s okay. That’s fine. So … why are you getting emotional?”

“In business you’ve got to get on with all types of people” declared Elizabeth in an earlier piece to camera. It’s these standfirsts that have defined Tycoon‘s most enjoyably unhinged competitor. She can talk it up, but on the shop floor, she’s rubbish. On a visit to a bottling plant labeling up her drink, she watched a fleet of wrongly coloured product wind past.

“That’s not very good is it? This is the wrong colour. It’s not pineapple. ‘Oh yes, pea-green, that must have pineapple in it!’ This is our showpiece to get sales! It’s looks really amateur.” What to do? “I just hope it gets better,” she sighed.

It didn’t. With the sense the show is hurriedly being compacted into the smallest thing possible, we saw Liz dodge dismissal (“Thank you very much, I think that’s the right decision”) and then – in a clearly staged coda for the camera – fall on her sword in the final minute. With the word “fragile” plastered across her forehead for no explained reason, she laid in the plot to Ian. “I’ve just discovered that I can’t use the name V:Tox”.

And that was it. A quick look at the pleasure boats from the Pier of Fear, and Ms Hackford was moving her dreams out of Peter Jones’ Thameside romper room, sent home in disgrace.

This is Tycoon. It’s all over the shop, frankly – a fan-made version of The Apprentice, without the expertise, the wit, but some time-lapsed footage of the City, so that’s okay. It’s a show hamstrung by its ambition, and one that’s failed to the collective delight of everyone who saw it coming. You undercut Sir Alan Sugar at your peril.

As for Elizabeth, she’s still a believer. I’ve just looked at her blog. The drink’s got a new name (Take 2), and you can contact her on her hotmail address “makemountainsmove”.

The obvious things, first, then – ITV just shouldn’t go toe-to-toe with the BBC in this fashion. Aluminium-hued shots of the City prompt comparisons to (let’s get it over with now) The Apprentice, but then we get “Tycoon Tower”, a squat, anonymous building on London’s South Bank. Okay, it’s got a “Tycoon” sign outside, but it’s hardly a tower. 

Inside – and here’s the real pisser – nothing at all looks bespoke. This is just a fairly generic working space, hired out for the show. And why does Peter take most of his meetings in the carpark, or the communal coffee-sipping areas with kids loitering in the background? It all just looks so … cheap.

Peter, himself, is a weird sort of TV character. Nothing he says feels spontaneous, particularly in those candid moments it’s just him rattling away to someone off camera. He’s also hugely hung-up on names – his counsel to each of the contestants consisting solely of coming up with new monikers for their products. You can imagine him brainstorming programme titles – “What’s better than being an apprentice. I know, being a tycoon!”

And yet, by the end, I was rather enjoying it. It’s like a lowkey sitcom – and how can you not enjoy Elizabeth “I can move mountains. I CAN move mountains” Hackford, who looks like she’s dropped in direct from a meeting with Simon Harrap at Eyecatchers? Her attempts to get passers-by to name her product. Her pitch for investment money (“That’s not like my product – it’s a concentrate”). Her hackles rising as the Sod girls whirled the klaxon.

Yes, it’s aimless. Yes, it’s unglamorous. No, the “pier of fear” (as it’ll surely be dubbed) is never going to become an iconic element of the show. But people trumpeting their own ideas and talking rubbish – that’ll do me.

Best of all, you can watch the whole thing again courtesy of ITV1′s BBC baiting watch-on-demand service (which is really great) at: www.tycoon.com.

Do tell me what you thought of the show. Meantime, I’m off to see if anyone wants to Fruka.