A Day In The Life Of Lord Alan Sugar

Ben Mountain
Ben Mountain

A silent waiting room. Two leather sofas hugging a corner in fear. Behind them, pictures of vague office like buildings and little else.

A phone rings.

“Lord Sugar will see you now.”

Heading through, we leave behind our suitcase and awkwardly nestle into an over sized office chair to sit in uncomfortable silence. Then a hand appears behind a frosted glass door.

“‘Ello, lads. Cor blimey, you’re early.”

We told him our cab had given us three and a half minutes to be up and ready at only five o’clock this morning.

“That’s work for ya. I’ll tell you this now and I won’t say it again, I started working before I was even a twinkle in my mother’s eye. Grafting, lads; grafting. I’d be up and ready before the sun was. That’s how I’m ‘ere today. It’s all about the graft for an East End lad like myself. No one ain’t giving nothing to ya.”

Before we could begin our Day In The Life of Lord Sugar, we were asked to excuse the Lord as he checked his phone. Important business, no doubt.

“Hahahahaha, I’m a funny man, boys. I really am. I just tweeted Piers Morgan and called him a wobbly fanny head. I crack meself up. Anyway, what is it you lot want?”

Clearly, the Lord didn’t know. This threw us a little, because we thought we’d booked in to spend the day with him. We even spoke with his receptionist about it.

“And what did my receptionist tell you?”

Without wanting to dish the dirt, we told him all she’d say was “Lord Sugar will see you now” and that she would always answer the phone to a silent voice as she did it.

“Haha, she’s good at that, actually. It’s what I employ her to do. You see, I’m so goddam rich, I can pay people to do needless stuff like that.”

“The other day, right, I give a kid a tenner so he’d ask me for my autograph. Then when he asked, I said ‘Listen, son, don’t go making people into heroes. You gotta do things for yourself in this life, no time for idols or celebs; you gotta graft. And, hey, nothing in this life is free. So giz that tenner because you ain’t getting advice like that from no one else cheaper.”

“I’m a businessman, innit? I’m also a Lord, if you hadn’t noticed.”


This came out of the blue. Lord Sugar apologised.

“Sorry, chaps, I do that sometimes. You know, out of impulse. But let’s head out anyway.”

A sudden sense of childlike excitement washed over us. We saw the Rolls in the distance.

“Right then, I’ll see you there.”

Naturally, there was a black cab sitting behind it. We climbed in, disappointed.

The cab took us right through London. Eventually, we arrived in Kent, at Chatham House. We weren’t quite sure why but headed in anyway.

In the middle of a completely empty room stood Lord Sugar.

“Teams, I’ve brought you here to Chatham because I like making stupid links with elaborate places and the day ahead. Essentially, we’re going to have a chit chat about my day to day goings on. So, I thought, chit chat Chatham. It’s a good one, right?”

We felt that things were getting a little bit silly.

“Your challenge for today is very simple really. I want you to talk with me¬†and write about it for a website. Got it? Good. I’ll see you in the boardroom tonight at six.”

And with that he left. We were pretty nonplussed but thought perhaps it would be best not to go against the orders of the Lord himself. So we hopped back into our cab and began the lengthy drive back into central London, not quite sure why we had to travel so far in the first place.

Six o’clock came. We were back in the waiting room, same as before.

“Lord Sugar will see you now.”

The oversized office chairs.

The silence.

The hand on the frosted glass.

It was bloody tense stuff. When the Lord walked in, stormy faced, things became tenser.

“Could we have that chat now, Alan? The interview we came for?” we asked with anticipation.

“You lot are bloody clueless. Clueless. I’ve had a very busy day. I had to drive to Yorkshire to remember a metaphor and then fly down to Paris and back so I could FaceTime my wife with a romantic link. And after all that serious business, Piers Morgan has got even more followers than me now. He jumped 476 in one hour.”

“So I had to take some time out of my day trying to think of an insult for him. In the end I just went to Scunthorpe and called him a piece of s**t. This going places for inspiration really works.”

“But look, I set you lot a task. A simple task at that. Now I’ve had Karren following you lot all day and she’s told me everything. Useless, you lot couldn’t organise a you-know-what up in a brewery! And to top it all off, who the hell is Alan? I’m Lord bloody Sugar and I will be addressed as such.”

We were very much lost at this point, much like we had been all day. It felt like we’d walked onto the set of some bizarre film or TV show and everything wasn’t quite normal.

“Then you come in ‘ere, asking to talk now. Now?! I told you boys, I’m a busy man. Get out, I need to talk with Karren. I’m appalled. At the end of this, one of you will be fired. Hell, maybe even more than one if that’s what I’m told to do.”

We left his office and a cab shuffled us off to a miserable looking cafe.

Forget that, we went home.

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