On a bleak March morning, an email landed in my inbox that sent my heart racing: “By order of The Traitors, you have been summoned to an exclusive set reveal.” The sender? RTÉ, Ireland’s national broadcaster. Legit. I read it twice, let out a squeal that startled my cat, and immediately typed a fervent “YES!” As a writer with an unhealthy obsession with reality TV—my debut novel Reality Check is practically a love letter to the genre—this was the kind of assignment I’d been dreaming of.
The Traitors is a global phenomenon, a deliciously twisted game of deception born in the Netherlands as De Verraders and inspired by the party game Mafia. Picture this: a group of strangers locked in a castle, tasked with sniffing out the secret “traitors” among them. These traitors, cloaked in secrecy, “murder” their fellow players (don’t worry, it’s just a dramatic exit), while everyone works together on physical and mental challenges to build a prize pot. If even one traitor remains at the end, they take it all. It’s a paranoid, Machiavellian rollercoaster of lies and betrayal, made iconic by the BBC’s Claudia Winkleman and her impeccable fringe. Now, with versions in Australia, Canada, France, and the U.S., Ireland’s Kite Entertainment has grabbed the reins for our own emerald-tinted take.
One crisp Friday afternoon, I found myself on the grounds of Slane Castle with a pack of showbiz journalists, buzzing with anticipation. Irish reality TV adaptations have a mixed track record—Popstars gave us Nadine Coyle’s infamous birthdate blunder but fizzled out, and our Great Irish Bake Off was, well, a bit underbaked. Yet, shows like Dancing With The Stars and First Dates Ireland have outshone their British counterparts. Would The Traitors Ireland follow suit? Spoiler: It’s aiming high.
Under strict instructions—no photos, stick to the tour, and a signed NDA to keep our lips sealed—Kite’s managing director, Darren Smith, led us through a production that screamed big-budget ambition. This was no cut-rate knockoff. The first stop? The confessional booth, where contestants spill their raw, unfiltered thoughts to the camera. My reality-TV-loving heart skipped a beat. Then, up a treacherously slippery staircase, we entered the castle’s turret—a dungeon-like room, locked away for over 40 years until production unearthed it. This is where the traitors will scheme, plot “murders,” and recruit allies. It was gloriously creepy, complete with a backstory of native spiders relocated to Connemara for the shoot. Talk about attention to detail.
The scale of the operation was staggering. Over 200 crew members swarmed the set, filling Slane with life and boosting the local economy. The castle, rented for four weeks (with a two-week shoot), was decked out with luxe furniture, Mercedes jeeps parked outside, and SuperValu snacks scattered about—clear signs of hefty brand partnerships. Cameras were everywhere, from discreet motion sensors to massive, cinematic lenses with elaborate lighting rigs. No one could forget they were being filmed. The breakfast room, where contestants discover who survived the night, was a makeshift atrium adorned with portraits of the cast—a diverse mix of young, old, and a few vaguely familiar faces from social media. Casting, as always in reality TV, is make-or-break, and this lineup looked like a masterclass.
The production suite, led by a predominantly female team, was a hive of activity. But the crown jewel was the round table room, where accusations fly and betrayals unfold. It was more jaw-dropping than the BBC’s version—intimidating, dramatic, and dripping with tension. Just standing there gave me goosebumps. How could anyone sit at that table, point fingers at their peers, and then casually head to dinner?
What sets The Traitors Ireland apart is its unapologetic Irish identity. Unlike the U.S. version, which recycles the same Scottish castle as the BBC’s, Ireland leans into its own heritage. Slane Castle, chosen over two other contenders, is a character in itself. The host, Siobhán McSweeney of Derry Girls fame, embodies this Irish flair. Dressed in stunning Irish-designed outfits, she told us, “A little bit of the success of this show is its iconography. I’d have let the country down if I didn’t bring that unique Irish flavor.” She’s not wrong. From the castle’s history to the production’s nod to Irish design, every detail screams authenticity.
Siobhán admitted to nerves about filling Claudia Winkleman’s shoes. “I feel a huge responsibility to Irish audiences,” she said, clutching her 50th cup of tea. “They’re astute, literate, and they’ll know if I mess up at home.” Approaching the role as an actor rather than a presenter, she’s crafted a “Traitors persona” distinct from her Great Pottery Throw Down charm. And is it harder to play the villain? “It’s more fun,” she grinned. “Everyone wants to be a traitor. It’s a safe way to explore your shadow self—treachery without consequences.”
Keeping the traitors’ identities under wraps is a logistical nightmare. Contestants are shuttled around with ear protectors and blindfolds to prevent leaks. The production team is obsessive about secrecy, and after glimpsing the set’s intensity, I’m not sure my nerves could handle being a contestant. I’d crumble under the pressure of that round table.
As we piled into a minibus back to Dublin, I was buzzing. The behind-the-scenes chaos of The Traitors Ireland—the sprawling crew, the cinematic set, the Irish pride woven into every detail—has forever changed how I view the show. It’s not just a game of deception; it’s a massive, meticulously crafted machine designed to thrill. Siobhán and Kite Entertainment are poised to deliver a hit that could outshine its predecessors. As for me? I’ll stick to dreaming of The Masked Singer—because let’s be honest, I’d be a terrible traitor.