Last night saw the welcome return of the programme which combines so many glorious elements. The contestants reduced to sweaty, gibbering wrecks, the in-fighting amongst the Dragons, Peter Jones' need to find a terrible pun to accompany his declaration of 'I'm out', and the telly wonder that is a genuine success story like Levi Roots and his Reggae Reggae Sauce. The departure of Richard Farleigh from the den was a bit of a blow for me. I had developed a fondness for the pint sized Aussie and his rapier like dissection of many people's pitches. He is replaced by James Caan (no, unfortunately not him, wow, that really would put the wind up them) who according to some newspaper reports is there to tick some kind of ethnic box (I should point out that the paper in question was the Daily Mail). First impressions are mixed, he seemed soft spoken and a bit reasonable really, not proper Dragon behaviour, but it's early days.
So first up we had Andy, the David Beckham lookalike, who brilliantly took his representation of Goldenballs a step further by getting very nervous and declaring 'what my concept is...I totally can't talk'. Genius. We had a bidding war between the Dragons over Beach Break Live (just what we need, another music festival). A couple of nutters, and their nutter accountant, trying to flog jerky. And then to finish, the charming Laban Roomes and Midas Touch, his mobile gold plating business. I have no idea how that is a business, but he was so convincing you could see the Dragons desperately trying to help him over the finish line and none more so than new boy Caan. And it was he who took the punt and helped the show end with Laban's gold tooth glinting in the studio lights.
Glorious stuff. Anyone for a fluffy gym-ball cover?