If ever I meet Nick and Margaret from the Apprentice I will make it my goal to fix them up, writes Dan Wainwright.

Forgetting completely that they are probably both happily married, and that the chances of me meeting them are the same as me winning the Grand National with Mon Mome as my jockey, I think they’d make a lovely couple.

I have watched them through each series as they drip disdain on numerous talented types with no common sense or style (Ben, what’s with the braces?). I have observed that they are at their happiest in each other’s company in the boardroom.

Margaret Mountford scowls her way through the assignments, following the wannabes around like a long-suffering teacher on a high school geography trip. Her pursed lips and angry eyes mask what I have, in my totally unqualified capacity, deduced is a longing for her kindred spirit.

Nick Hewer, Suralun’s (Sir Alan’s) PR guru for many years, has been known to crack a puzzled smile but he too seems to just go through the motions counting down the hours until the boardroom.

At first I thought he was just a sadistic so and so who waited with delighted impatience to see this week’s clever-but-dumb candidate get the finger of fate from Suralun.

I have taken to wondering what might happen if, while the three biggest losers of the week waited outside, Suralun had to pop out and take an urgent call on one of his Amstrad video phones that no-one else owns outside the company. Would there be an awkward silent moment? Would Nick and Margaret make small talk? “So Nick, read any good books lately?” “Well Margaret I finally found time to catch up on the Da Vinci Code. I know it’s an easy read but being the last line of defence between Ally-baby (his pet name for Suralun) and the morons is so taxing”.

With that of course Nick has blown the whole thing. Why didn’t he compliment her on how neatly presented her hair looked today? They may never get this chance again. It’s too late, Suralun’s back sitting between them now, that scratchy beard of his is diverting Margaret’s gaze. Nick wonders if there’s something going on.

That’s the trick the apprentices are missing. One night, after they get back from whatever cocktail party or private opera recital Suralun’s lined up this week they should get on the blower to Suralun’s secretary. She’s there all hours and all she ever does is tell them the cars are waiting. They should ask her to patch them through to Nick and Margaret and invite them over to the penthouse.

A couple of bottles of Blossom Hill, some nice cheese and a few drinking games and, oh dear is that the time? The cars will be here at 6.30am. You two are welcome to crash here. Noorul’s room’s free…

Before you can say it, they’re blissfully in love. No more withering looks, no more criticism of your budget. “Hang the cost, buy Sandalwood at £700 a bottle for the soap”, Nick will say. “Margaret was wearing that the night of the dinner party”.