It’s an understatement to say that The Traitors season three has kept me alive. Every Wednesday to Friday I’ve slung myself over the sofa, ready to see some of the most relatable (annoying) people living in the UK today tear into each other, and hoping to receive an update about Traitor Linda; how, how was bloody Linda still in it, despite Jake clocking that she literally turned her head when host Claudia Winkleman addressed the Traitors in episode one? Episode one! Yes, The Traitors has been my closest companion this January, the cruellest month in a grey country. It was the only thing we had to keep us going and, tonight, it’s over.
I watch a lot of similar series so feel comfortable in saying that The Traitors’ third season has proven it is still the best British reality TV show on air. It makes tired old franchises – Love Island, The Apprentice, I’m a Celeb – look dead and purposeless. And of course it does: how many ways can people date, launch a product or attempt to exist in a jungle? Very few, as we’ve seen over the decades of these increasingly rote shows. But how many ways can people lie, manipulate, scheme, form alliances and unfortunately display their prejudices for the public to see? So many. I could never get bored of this sport, especially when it’s so deliciously camp. One of the highlights of this season was a typically overdressed Winkleman deadpanning “my sons”, as two enormous men transported her from their shoulders to the floor.
The genius of The Traitors is that it channels the manic spirit of the parlour games that inspired it – such as Mafia or Wink, Murder – which are exactly the sort of “games” (see: life or death activities that only end in hot tears and someone storming to their bedroom) you play with your extended family at Christmas. The goal for everyone involved is clear, highly boundaried and constantly reminded to them and us: contestants picked as Traitors must survive and kill, Faithfuls must catch and banish. The prize money goes up to £120,000, so tensions get high and people get nasty. This year, people got positively hysterical (led by fiery Leanne).
What felt notable about this series is that despite contestants knowing the format and past strategies well, the Faithfuls were irrefutably crap at their jobs. Jake’s lucky spot on the first day was a fluke as he descended with the others to new lows of detective skills, giving impossibly poor readings, even faintly discriminatory ones, of fellow contestants. The challenges – all unhinged, enjoyable and well conceived by producers, with special mention for the twisted Traitors chess game challenge that got Leanne very upset and led to Minah’s downfall – gave Faithfuls clear clues as to who the Traitors were. Like Armani wanting the gold but not protection. Or Linda doing the least and blaming it on age. Did they notice them? Barely.
Alexander, the nicest man in England, was the only Faithful to have his wits about him and offer genuine analysis, even vaguely applying logic to situations, a foreign concept to the rest of them. After being informed by the ultimate wingwoman Winkleman that Alexander was single, audiences found his Hinge profile, which tells potential matches that his simple pleasures include “buying fruit I’ve never seen before”. This man is an angel!
As for the Traitors, it’s worth discussing Minah, who lasted the longest but made a fatal mistake when she recruited arch-liar and fake Welsh woman Charlotte, who quickly threw her to the wolves. Who will win the show? My money is on Charlotte, who must have very sharp elbows given her status on the outside as a “business director from London”.
I’m a staunch lover of reality TV – at its best and even, often, at its mid, it’s more alive, cruel and tantalisingly frustrating than anything scripted. You simply cannot make this stuff of life up. How could you imagine someone like the bolshy Armani, giving it all that in the tower about the other Traitors needing to pipe up more, then getting banished for exactly that fatal flaw? Or Joe, the English and drama teacher (heavy on the drama) who couldn’t get a single right take on a Traitor but insisted – and convinced others to believe – that he was correct again and again and again? Do you think the greatest minds of any generation could conjure up Linda, with her fake crying at breakfast about the departure of someone she barely spoke to (“Oh my god, she’s my little girl”), or her sassing of Anna (“You don’t have to be a sailor to know you have to tie a rope – sorry x”). No – these characters are the most deliriously maddening people we all know and recognise.
In many ways, thanks to their incompetence, the Faithfuls have been the real villains of this season, which has made it all the better to watch. It feels natural that what got us Brits through a winter of austerity and grim global politics was seeing people resembling our most frustrating colleagues and middle managers fight each other to the death. Given that Brits are so often pathologically inclined to passive aggression and sly judgement, this is not just the show we love, it’s the show that reflects part of who we are. I can’t believe I’m looking forward to next January already.
