Everything happens for a reason, they say. For example, looking at Sam making Steve and Stephen dress up as rhubarb and custard (not even the cartoon characters - actual rhubarb and custard defined solely by colour) would've been too painful for mine eyes to bear. So, as fate would have it, I was spared the experience as it was a friend's birthday soiree.

As you may or may not be aware/care, I moved abodes recently (for about the tenth time in the last five years. But that's a story for another day). The new apartment, though lovely, does not come equipped with NTL or SKY + so I'm at the mercy of actual schedules for the first time since digital recording hit our living rooms. Point being, I couldn't record The Apprentice last night - but I do know, thanks to the Irish Daily Mail, that singing Samantha (who is pictured in today's paper doing an ode to Madonna's La Isla Bonita) got the boot. I could watch the full episode on the TV3 website, but quite frankly, I'm stuck for time (and, truth be told, I've a bit of a moudly head on me).

In short: Cu Chulainnand Platinum were asked to create a new chocolate bar for Cadbury, but it had to have an Irish twist. Breffny was appointed Cu Chulainn's team manager by Bill, and they went with a tricolour theme... as in it was stuffed with sunflower seeds (green), puffed rice (white) and orange flakes (eh, orange). Team mates Aoiffe and Ruth wanted to call the bar Trinity, but - in a lucid moment - Breffny put the kybosh on the idea, saying it was "too much about playing cricket in the middle of Dublin." He, instead, went for the name Blasta.

Over in team Platinum, Sam (also appointed project manager by Bill) wanted to go with a rocky road bar and call it Raglan Road. Clever. After a bit of internet probing, however, she found out that Cadburys had already commissioned a rocky road themed bar... all the way over in Australia. So she instead opted for a Rhubarb and Custard bar. Not so clever. Then she decided to turn the pitch into a pantomime, which entailed the depiction of her being a chocolate goddess, while Steve and Stephen - sweating in their respective wigs - tried to convince the Cadbury folk that they wanted nothing more than to get it on with Sam by way of some sordid three-way, chocolate-aided, clustering activity.

Needless to say, Platinum lost for not being Irish enough. Sam brought Stephen and Steve into the boardroom with her, even though Steve had been nothing but (some might say overly) supportive. In her defence, Sam said: "I probably should have brought in Lucinda instead of Steve, but she was my best friend in the house and I couldn't do it to her."

Despite not being able to hang a mate out to dry, Sam still plans to pursue a career in business: "I'm actually doing a leadership course at the moment and I wouldn’t mind a second bit of the Apprentice cherry. I'd even like to do the English one of the American one. If they brought in a universal one, I could represent Ireland in that."

Super.

For those of you interested in what the respective bars taste like, this report comes from my source at Red FM, who got sent the bars today: "The Rhubarb and Custard one tastes more like turkish delight bits strewn across chocolate... the other one (presumably Blasta) has bits of orange peel that resemble little kitten claw clippings."

Speaking of kittens, as I am unable to give more in depth analysis on last night's show, I will instead leave you with a story about the lady whose birthday I attended. We shan't divulge her full name for legal reasons (no, seriously, wait 'til you read the story). We'll just go by her initial, B.

B has adopted a cat in her area. He "belongs" to a couple who live down the road from her, but - as we all know - cats are food whores (95% of their behaviour is food motivated. This is why I feel a shared affinity) and go where the pickings are good. The cat, who we'll call Roysten (his owners know him by another name), has a habit of impregnating a certain lady cat in the area, who then leaves her one or two of her kittens in B's back garden. This year, my friend was blessed with one beautiful black kitten (I should, at this point, mention that Royston and the kitten's mother also have jet black fur). She has yet to name him.

Anyway, what is a girl to do when a stray lady cat keeps getting knocked up by your adopted cat and depositing her brood in your back yard? Get the stray lady cat neutered, of course. All B had to do was get a fiercely feral feline into a cat box. Should be easy enough considering said moggy can usually be found outside her back garden, and has a penchant for sausages.

Sausages placed at the trap's entrance, the cat tentatively crept inside, only for the door to slam and click behind her. She freaked out; emitting screaming mewls and promptly set about hanging bat-like from the roof of the cage. This in turn spooked the kitten, who swiftly made haste up the chimney.

Kitten retrieved and suitably placated, B brought the now bug-eyed, mewling mother down to the vets. Cat deposited for operation, B returned home to find the kitten jovially communicating with its mother out the back garden… She'd only brought the wrong cat to get neutered.

B leapt upon the phone: "Have you operated on that cat yet?!" "Yes, she's in recovery now. You can pick her up tomorrow", came the reply. "So it's female?!" exclaimed B. "Um, yes?" B was then left to explain that she had, somehow, found herself in the bizarre position of packing off an entirely random black female cat - who just so happened to be hanging around her back garden at a specific moment in time - to be relieved of her reproductive organs. The vet has since offered her "a substantial reduction" off all future neuterings, should she make a habit of it.

The fourth black cat was faithfully collected from the vet the next day, and was last seen scarpering towards the nearest rooftop. We know she hasn't been in the area since the incident; her shaved belly and stiches would make her instantly recogniseable. How that lady cat went about explaining how she got them to her family, adopted or otherwise, is anyone's guess.

Fact, as they also say, is always stranger than fiction.