Well, well well: The Traitors has just steamed murderously past the halfway mark, and the castle has never felt more chaotic.
Following last night’s drama-filled show, season two’s hapless band of Faithfuls have never been happier, busy cheersing and patting themselves on the back after managing to rumble a culprit so obvious he may as well have the words “I AM A TRAITOR, EVERYONE!" tattooed across his forehead. Even more deliciously, their chosen hero of the moment makes Brutus look like a solid, upstanding guy.
From this point on, lie spoilers galore. You have been warned.
The first time around, The Traitors surprised when it became a word-of-mouth success story; largely thanks to the pantomime villainy of longest-standing Traitor Wilf, Swansea estate agent Amanda and her promise to emulate the dragon on the Welsh flag, and poor old Meryl not having a clue what was happening at any point, but making it to the end anyway and essentially winning over 30 grand while enjoying a nice relaxing holiday in the Highlands.
Some wondered if the formula would click a second time around, with a cast of infinitely more calculated contestants who knew their way around the game. Oh what sceptical, untrusting Faithfuls we all were to even suspect such a thing!
Last week, the show left us teetering on the most ridiculous cliffhanger yet. Every time a new show airs, as we know, it is sacred tradition that a secret panel of gays meet in private to nominate a middle-aged woman with a natural abundance of local noticeboard shit-posting energy to rule over us as our lord, savior, and queen.
The premature banishment of Sonja – a woman so iconic she has the ability to knit while wearing a blindfold – meant that there could only be one victor: retired school teacher Diane. When episode 6 culminated in Diane suspiciously eying a poisoned chalice filled to the brim with pink fizz, handed to her by her assassin Miles, no less, viewers were in uproar. Did she take a fateful swig before midnight, or unknowingly hand her goblet off to another unsuspecting victim? Then, after leaving us hanging for four whole days – the longest of my entire life – Wednesday’s episode revealed that… well, yeah she did just drink it, and she’s dead.
Sorry that you spent your entire weekend reading books on body language in a bid to reassure yourself that she could have clocked Miles. Sorry that you spoke about a stranger you’ve literally never met with so much passion that your friends and family privately wondered whether they should cut the telly cord for your own mental wellbeing. She's gone.
Following her departure, Diane was visited by Miles, who was banished later on, and learned that he was her killer. Reacting to this jawdropping news, she of course exclaimed: "you wee sheeeeet!"
What unfolded next is among the most unhinged, camp masterpieces I have ever witnessed on television – and I grew up watching EastEnders. Pat Butcher, turning up at Frank’s send off in a saucy scarlet dress and chucking a matching rose into his coffin because he always thought she looked hot in red? Pah, how about a whole episode dedicated to Diane’s demise and fake funeral?
Whoever is behind this particular production choice on The Traitors – you are totally deranged, and I am obsessed with you. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for putting together an entire funeral procession, complete with mourning outfits, a jet-black horse and trap, a creepy choir singing Chopin’s Marche funèbre, and Traitor Paul discussing Diane’s impending death in the manner that somebody might refer to a packet of beef mince which is looking a bit off-colour. “We already know Diane is in the process of deterioration”. Utter evil! If this doesn’t win a BAFTA, we riot at dawn.
Diane leading her own funeral procession, like who else could leave the show like this. What an iconic way to go #TheTraitors pic.twitter.com/T3H5lIQSJm
— L E W🦩S (@LDN_Lewis) January 17, 2024
When Claudia Winkleman heartlessly slammed shut the lid of Diane’s LITERAL COFFIN THAT SHE WAS FORCED TO LIE DOWN IN, her secret son Ross understandably finding the whole thing quite morbid, I thought I was possibly witnessing a moment of peak camp.
How foolish of me – Ross (who has been keeping his relationship to Diane under wraps) takes after his mum. In last night’s episode, as the gang drive home from a crossbow-based challenge, the contestants are discussing how much they miss Diane (same) and how they see her as their on-set mum.
“Eurgh, no, she was my mum first!” Ross jokingly protests, before brazenly smashing through the fourth wall and winking to camera. The audacity!
now why did that wink from ross have me kicking my feet and giggling #TheTraitors pic.twitter.com/yHMZenrRkf
— jack (@jackoliver__) January 18, 2024
And don’t even get me started on the blinder of a game Harry is playing. By day, he’s a sweet, helpful himbo with a single earring and a dream; throwing himself across bodies of water and into the line of fire for the good of his best friends, quietly sobbing as he’s forced to vote out his fellow army bro Jonny, and banishing Traitors so effectively that his fellow contestants have elected him as president. But get him in that turret and the man turns into a back-stabbing menace. Lovely Andrew, whose acting ability seems to amount to ‘staring intently while making his eyes really, really wide in a bid to look innocent’, doesn’t stand a chance.
It’s easy to forget sometimes, but reality telly – in its original, most pure form – was really, very camp. Before the tactical influencers and social media celebrities breezed into various villas with far too much brand awareness to do anything remotely stupid, the genre gave us a pre-fame Alison Hammond, Jedward, Come Dine With Me’s Peter ‘Dear Lord, what a sad little life, Jane’ Marsh, and the late American astrologer (and mother to Sylvester) Jackie Stallone entering the Big Brother house and announcing herself as: “yeah, Brackie”.
And in my mind, The Traitors harks back to this earlier era. Stick 22 genuinely ordinary people in a castle together, and the chances are, they’ll write the comedy gold themselves. That’s certainly what’s playing out here.
