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.
