“Faithfuls, you’re breaking my heart,” Claudia Winkleman exclaimed in sheer frustration at the sixth round table of this year’s BBC Celebrity Traitors. “You’re just not getting it—what are you missing? Open your eyes, please!”
Winkleman isn’t one to hold back, but her outburst was spot-on. That episode, where loyal Faithful Mark Bonnar was dramatically ousted after a tense tied vote, cemented this season’s Faithfuls as the absolute worst in the history of the British Traitors franchise.
Before now, the latest a Traitor had ever been nabbed was in episode six of the very first series, when Alyssa got exposed by her co-Traitor Amanda. And hey, they had the newbie excuse back then—the game was fresh territory. This crew? They’ve had three full seasons to binge-watch, dissect strategies, and learn from epic round-table meltdowns. Yet here they are, fumbling like amateurs.
Sure, they’re not complete disasters—they finally sniffed out Jonathan Ross in episode seven, but then promptly shot themselves in the foot by banishing yet another Faithful, Kate Garraway, the very next day.
So, what’s the deal with this year’s Faithfuls being such a hot mess? As a seasoned Traitor from season two (yep, that’s me—backstabbed by my own ally Harry right before the endgame), let me break it down for you.
Ironically, it was the “most useless player” as voted by her peers—our ousted Kate—who nailed it in the latest episode: “You get dazzled by the big personalities around you, and it scrambles your brain.”
Bingo. These Faithfuls are blinded by starstruck syndrome. Instead of zeroing in on suspicious behaviors and cold-hard facts, they’re judging based on celebrity vibes and preconceived images. It’s like they’re voting off-screen personas rather than in-game actions.
Take Alan Carr: He giggles through accusations, sweats buckets under pressure, even forgets his shield exists—and everyone brushes it off with an “Oh, that’s just Alan being Alan!” His charm and humor are his ultimate cloak, letting him skate by on literal murder.
Then there’s Stephen Fry, booted unceremoniously because he’s a “genius” and a “big dog”—prime Traitor material, apparently. But did he ever show a shred of deceit? Nope. Not a whiff.
Same story with Niko Omilana, the first to get the boot, mostly because he’s a professional prankster. The Faithfuls aren’t scrutinizing actions; they’re profiling based on professions and public images. Don’t trust what you see on screen—it’s a trap!
Another massive flaw? Zero teamwork. Traitors is a squad game at its core. Faithfuls thrive when they build alliances, share intel, and back each other up—not when they’re lone wolves.
This celeb bunch, though? They’re avoiding cliques like the plague. Nick Mohammed is sharp as a tack, spotting clues left and right, but he learned the hard way that solo smarts aren’t enough. You need to rally the troops, convince the table, and swing votes. Once he looped in Joe Marler, things started clicking—but is it too late to salvage?
It’s straight out of my season’s playbook: Jaz pegged me and Harry as Traitors early, but without solid bonds, his theories fizzled. You can’t win Traitors in your notebook; you’ve got to dominate the room.
And let’s talk stakes—or the lack thereof. In the civilian version, players enter with fire in their bellies. That prize pot? Life-altering. I was gunning for a house deposit; others dreamed of debt freedom or family support. Getting banished stings because it’s personal—your shot at transformation slips away.
But charity play? Noble, sure, but it softens the edge. No one’s livelihood is hanging in the balance, so the urgency dips. Imagine if these stars’ careers were on the line—the castle would erupt in paranoia-fueled pandemonium.
That said, props where due: This season’s Traitors are killing it (pun intended). Cat Burns has mastered the art of flying under the radar, timing her betrayal of Jonathan like a pro. Alan’s gone full chaos mode, “pole-vaulting” over suspicion, yet barely drawing fire.
But Jonathan? He’s my MVP. From day one, forcing Alan to eulogize Paloma Faith (whom Alan had just offed) was pure villain gold. He’s the theatrical Traitor we crave—stirring pots, dodging bullets, and owning the drama.
I see echoes of my own game in him: The bold, scheming type who flirts with exposure but survives by sheer audacity. I’d get called out repeatedly and still walk away unscathed. It’s Traitor magic.
Don’t write off the Faithfuls entirely, though. With Joe and Nick finally locking onto Alan and Cat, the momentum could flip. Traitors have a knack for self-sabotage, so victory isn’t sealed yet. But if they don’t shake off those celebrity goggles, build real teams, and crank up the intensity, this spectacular failure will go down in Traitors lore.