What The Traitors format twist means for the rest of series four
The BBC's latest series of their most popular show puts the audience at the centre of the action
Add series four of The Traitors to your watchlist And there was me all worried that returning to a “normal” version of Traitors after the phenomenal success of the celebrity version late last year would be akin to Dorothy’s return home after her colourful detour to Oz – not quite black and white, but certainly a bit drab. Indeed, we may not get the psychedelic characters of freshly anointed national treasure Alan Carr, the world’s first knitter Tom Daley and the silence-breaking scene stealer Celia Imrie, nor the nation-stopping moment (YET!) of Nick Mohammed’s U-turn on Joe Marler, but many of my fears were quashed within five minutes of the start of the new series. 22 people met on a train and travelled to a castle… not all of them would survive. Such a formula never broke for Agatha Christie and her many emulators; why would TV producers mess in 2025? They haven’t messed, but they’ve certainly tweaked. Many reliable elements are in place: we have notice of a former acquaintanceship – Ross and Netty previously knew each other “through mutual friends”, whatever that means – and a secret mother-daughter connection, as well as a disproportionate number of Welsh people, some of whom may not even be faking their accents, unlike in previous series. The big twist was hanging in the air, though, and what a gem it proved. Of the 22 contestants, all of whom wanted to be Traitors, unlike in the celebrity version, Claudia tapped on the shoulders of cyber consultant Steve, communications guru Rachel and barrister Hugo. So gleeful were they in their green cloaks, until Claudia announced the presence of the red-cloaked traitor in their midst – not just someone who would be ordering who they murdered with a shortlist, but who knew who they were, while keeping his or her own identity hidden. What a wonderful onion layer of intrigue to add to the already timeless gifts of seduction, betrayal, treachery and to-face fibbing coming our way in the next few weeks. It also means that, for the first time, we viewers get to play along. For years, us armchair experts have been saying guessing a traitor’s identity is Fisher Price-level detective work, while players have been telling us it’s much harder than it looks when you’re inside the castle. Well, we finally get to walk the walk and, I have to say, I don’t have a dickie bird who is wearing the red cloak, so they may have a point. Plus it was worth the price of admission alone to see the look on barrister Hugo’s face as he realised he wouldn’t have all the powers of murder and mayhem accorded to previous traitors. “I do not require middle management,” he hurrumphed. It’s a line that which will surely garner him much sympathy from workers returning to offices after the Christmas break, even if it doesn’t protect him inside the castle.
Modern TV dog-collar detectives explore morality and human nature as well as solving crimes
Add Grantchester to your watchlist How can there be so much murder in one otherwise quiet country parish? The answer, of course, is that there can’t. You may as well wonder how Grantchester’s vicar fits in any actual vicaring between all his crime-solving, or if any real-life cleric resembles a studio-system film star like Alphy, the ITV drama’s latest, and likely final, “Maigret of the manse”. Grantchester returns this week for series 10, with number 11 confirmed to be its last – sad news for a show that has always carried its profound messages deceptively lightly. For regardless of its comely setting, Grantchester goes a lot deeper than may at first appear. James Runcie, the creator of the original books, based his fictional vicar Sidney Chambers on the duties of his own father, a pre-Canterbury Robert Runcie, for whom “death did come to the door. There wasn’t any murder, but it was a life for my father that didn’t involve clocking off”. The author once told me he set out to write what he called “the story of postwar Britain, a study of morality through stories of crime”. And, sure enough, since it began in 2014, the TV version has danced nimbly between sleuthing caper and romantic intrigue, midcentury mores clashing with private passions and, ultimately, the burdens and delights of personal and social responsibility. Against the chintzy period backdrop of dog walks and picnics by the Backs, the compassionate worldview shared by Alphy (Rishi Nair) and his policeman friend Geordie (Robson Green) would seem to belong to a more modern era, a long way from TV’s ecclesiastical sleuths of old. Thirty years ago, we had Derek Jacobi in Cadfael. While the drama’s cerebral Benedictine monk was gentle and wise in his sleuthing, he was forced to leave justice to the whims of the king and the outcome of a scrappy sword fight. Even more limited was Father Dowling Investigates, about a Catholic priest whose job seemed to be more of a plot device than a vocation – a lack of seriousness not helped by actor Tom Bosley’s global fame as Howard Cunningham in Happy Days – and who seemed perfectly willing to break into private houses and fib his way around Chicago like Columbo in a dog collar. Despite being a much earlier literary creation, GK Chesterton’s Father Brown, as played by Mark Williams in the BBC’s long-running daytime drama, is more in keeping with TV’s more recent clerics. As in Grantchester, Father Brown’s postwar country setting (modernised from the books) provides fertile ground for rich storytelling. Brown uses his knowledge of human nature to solve crimes, and his own moral compass to decide whether to turn someone in. The challenges for him and Grantchester’s Alphy cut to the heart of what it means to carry other people’s dark secrets and heavy burdens. For the Reverend Richard Coles, whose debut crime novel Murder Before Evensong was adapted for TV in 2025, a vicar makes for a natural protagonist. “Nobody asks what you’re doing if you turn up,” he told RT. “You’re involved in human dramas and the motivations as to why somebody might murder somebody else. It’s your daily bread, in a way.” In its village crime rate, the vicars’ good looks and the neat resolutions, Grantchester may not always be an entirely accurate representation of life on Earth, but in its tireless curiosity about the human condition, its arrows shoot true. As Coles told us: “People bring to church their deepest fears and highest hopes. And that’s always a drama.” Series 10 of Grantchester begins Wednesday on ITV1 at 9pm, followed by episode two on Thursday at the same time. Series 13 of Father Brown begins on Friday on BBC One at 2pm
Why can’t we get enough of TV's crime-solving vicars in the likes of Grantchester and Father Brown?
A cosy whodunnit on the surface, Grantchester — like Father Brown — uses village murders as a gateway to bigger questions of faith, morality and human frailty, proving TV’s clerical sleuths are about far more than solving crimes.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. How can there be so much murder in one otherwise quiet country parish? The answer, of course, is that there can’t. You may as well wonder how Grantchester’s vicar fits in any actual vicaring between all his crime-solving, or if any real-life cleric resembles a studio-system film star like Alphy, the ITV drama’s latest, and likely final, 'Maigret of the manse'. Grantchester returns this week for series 10, with number 11 confirmed to be its last – sad news for a show that has always carried its profound messages deceptively lightly. For regardless of its comely setting, Grantchester goes a lot deeper than may at first appear. James Runcie, the creator of the original books, based his fictional vicar Sidney Chambers on the duties of his own father, a pre-Canterbury Robert Runcie, for whom "death did come to the door. There wasn’t any murder, but it was a life for my father that didn’t involve clocking off". The author once told me he set out to write what he called "the story of postwar Britain, a study of morality through stories of crime". And, sure enough, since it began in 2014, the TV version has danced nimbly between sleuthing caper and romantic intrigue, midcentury mores clashing with private passions and, ultimately, the burdens and delights of personal and social responsibility. Against the chintzy period backdrop of dog walks and picnics by the Backs, the compassionate worldview shared by Alphy (Rishi Nair) and his policeman friend Geordie (Robson Green) would seem to belong to a more modern era, a long way from TV’s ecclesiastical sleuths of old. Thirty years ago, we had Derek Jacobi in Cadfael. While the drama’s cerebral Benedictine monk was gentle and wise in his sleuthing, he was forced to leave justice to the whims of the king and the outcome of a scrappy sword fight. Even more limited was Father Dowling Investigates, about a Catholic priest whose job seemed to be more of a plot device than a vocation – a lack of seriousness not helped by actor Tom Bosley’s global fame as Howard Cunningham in Happy Days – and who seemed perfectly willing to break into private houses and fib his way around Chicago like Columbo in a dog collar. Despite being a much earlier literary creation, GK Chesterton’s Father Brown, as played by Mark Williams in the BBC’s long-running daytime drama, is more in keeping with TV’s more recent clerics. As in Grantchester, Father Brown’s postwar country setting (modernised from the books) provides fertile ground for rich storytelling. Brown uses his knowledge of human nature to solve crimes, and his own moral compass to decide whether to turn someone in. The challenges for him and Grantchester’s Alphy cut to the heart of what it means to carry other people’s dark secrets and heavy burdens. For the Reverend Richard Coles, whose debut crime novel Murder Before Evensong was adapted for TV in 2025, a vicar makes for a natural protagonist. "Nobody asks what you’re doing if you turn up," he told RT. "You’re involved in human dramas and the motivations as to why somebody might murder somebody else. It’s your daily bread, in a way." In its village crime rate, the vicars’ good looks and the neat resolutions, Grantchester may not always be an entirely accurate representation of life on Earth, but in its tireless curiosity about the human condition, its arrows shoot true. As Coles told us: "People bring to church their deepest fears and highest hopes. And that’s always a drama." View Green Video on the source website Read more: Grantchester's Charlotte Ritchie explains why she doesn't watch show Grantchester's Robson Green talks unexpected James Norton reunion: "It was just beautiful" Grantchester returns to ITV on Wednesday 7th January at 9pm. Add Grantchester to your watchlist on the Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
12 underrated TV gems from 2025 – from The Assembly to Worlds Apart
The best of the small screen over the past 12 months that you might have missed.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. As well as this year’s biggest TV juggernauts – Adolescence (Netflix), The White Lotus (Sky Atlantic), The Celebrity Traitors (iPlayer) et al – we have been spoilt with some relatively undiscovered gems. Here’s my Deserving Dozen… 1. Confessions of a Brain Surgeon - iPlayer Pioneering neurosurgeon Henry Marsh quotes French doctor René Leriche, who wrote, “Every surgeon carries within himself a small cemetery… a place of bitterness and regret.” Now retired, Marsh’s regrets are both professional and personal, humble and honest. 2. Jerry Springer: Fights, Camera, Action - Netflix How did the former Mayor of Cincinnati create a TV phenomenon that pitched itself as a champion of free speech yet stood accused of ruining US culture? Comparing himself to Oprah Winfrey, Springer said, “She does a talk show, I do a circus. Just no lions.” 3. Worlds Apart - Channel 4 Six young Brits each team up with a pensioner to travel across Japan, solve puzzles and try to win a £50,000 prize. They trade energy and wisdom in a reality show not about age, but compassion and comradeship. 4. Last One Laughing - Amazon Prime Video Ten comedians try to make each other laugh, while not smiling themselves. More proof that there’s nothing funnier than watching someone trying to keep a straight face. 5. Jane Austen: Rise of a Genius - iPlayer A fascinating two-part documentary follows Austen’s own personal rebellion: only by rejecting an offer of marriage without love and putting herself in financial peril could she dodge a woman of her time’s lot and instead become its greatest-ever chronicler. 6. Once Upon a Time in Space - iPlayer The awe-inspiring triumphs and devastating tragedies of the two-decade space race, as remembered by those involved. Among them is Anna Fisher, the first mother in space, who told RT, “I didn’t want to be a female astronaut, just an astronaut.” 7. Live Aid at 40 - iPlayer <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/3/2025/07/525554-77f2861.jpg" width="3980" height="2638" alt="A black and white still of George Michael, Harvey Goldsmith, Bono, Paul McCartney, Freddy Mercury, Andrew Ridgley, Helena Springs, David Bowie, Bob Geldof, Adam Ant and Stuart Adamson, which is shown in Live Aid at 40: When Rock n Roll Took on the World" title="525554,TITLE:Live Aid at 40: When Rock n Roll Took on the World" /> The day Bob Geldof stopped the world with music. Brian May told RT, “It was one of the few moments in anyone’s life that you know you’re doing something for all the right reasons.” Worth watching for the Radio Ga Ga clap-along alone. 8. Richard Burton: Wild Genius - iPlayer A sympathetic portrait of a star caught between worlds – stage versus screen, devoted first wife Sybil versus passionate lover Elizabeth Taylor, Wales versus the universe… Was Burton a wasted, tormented talent, or did he pack three lifetimes into one? You decide. 9. The Assembly - ITVX David Tennant and Gary Lineker are among stars interviewed by young people with autism, other forms of neurodivergence and learning disabilities. These inquisitors succeed in disarming their subjects, resulting in strikingly warm and honest telly – especially when it’s Danny Dyer in the hot seat. 10. Chris McCausland: Seeing into the Future - iPlayer A self-professed geek who has been blind since his mid-20s, comedian and Strictly winner McCausland is the perfect person to discover what Silicon Valley can offer by way of access-enabling technology – what he calls “building a bridge between blind people and the rest of the world”. 11. Ride or Die - iPlayer This documentary explores the role that Christian faith plays for bikers in the notoriously dangerous sport of road racing, many of whom tuck holy medals inside their racing leathers. It’s a window into a world of people living on the edge and at peace with the ever-present risk of falling off it. 12. Noel’s Kiwi Adventure - ITVX View Green Video on the source website With this half-jokey, half-serious series on his attempt to create a rural idyll in New Zealand, Edmonds is often effortlessly Alan Partridge: one minute you want to cheer and the next watch through your fingers. You’d need a heart of granite not to wish him well, and for his tirelessness alone he earns his place at the top of my TV Christmas tree. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Check out more of our Documentaries coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
What were the most underrated TV shows of 2025?
RT columnist Caroline Frost counts down her 12 television treats of 2025
As well as this year’s biggest TV juggernauts – Adolescence (Netflix), The White Lotus (Sky Atlantic), The Celebrity Traitors (iPlayer) et al – we have been spoilt with some relatively undiscovered gems. Here’s my Deserving Dozen…
Amandaland stars Lucy Punch and Dame Joanna Lumley on first impressions, fond Christmas memories and mini flamethrowers...
Amandaland is on Christmas Day at 9.15pm on BBC One. Add it to your collection Joanna Lumley and Lucy Punch first played mother and daughter in the 2004 film Ella Enchanted. Some 20 years later, Punch plays social climber Amanda with Lumley her scene-stealing mother Felicity, first in Motherland, and now in its spin-off Amandaland. While filming the festive special, the pair reflected on their reunion, Christmasses past and present, and what gift they’d buy for each other… Lucy, what were your first impressions of Joanna? LUCY In Ella Enchanted, we played a ghastly stepmother and stepsister to the heroine, then we were reunited for Motherland, which was lovely, and now this. All this time later, I’m a very different person, but I believe Joanna’s exactly the same: so smart and funny. She charms everyone. When you’re doing comedy, you need lots of good energy, and hers is infectious. Joanna, what have you learnt working with Lucy? Joanna I couldn’t admire Lucy more. I remember her playing my daughter, but I’m not sure they [the Motherland producers] even knew that. She’s blossomed in this. A lot of acting by many of us is interchangeable, but some people stand out, and Lucy’s always been slightly different. She brings something extra. What are your fondest memories of Christmas growing up? Joanna We were in hot countries so we never saw snow, but Mummy would get balls of cotton wool to put on the windows like snowflakes. We were out in the Malayan Mari when the Disney film of Alice in Wonderland came out. I was given an Alice doll, and it was as beautiful a thing as I’ve ever seen, with yellow hair and a hair band, a blue dress with a little white apron – thrilling. Isn’t it lovely what we remember visually? What gift would you buy each other for Christmas? Lucy I’d buy something very little, discreet and lovely, maybe a teeny, tiny book. Joanna likes little things. Joanna Lucy lives in California and has two boys, so I think I’d get her something that money can’t buy – an experience of some kind… Going down the Thames on a boat with the boys, perhaps. Yes, an adventure! Any special present you’d each like to unwrap? Joanna We were filming a dinner scene at this beautiful table yesterday, and the props boy Harry had to light and then put out the candles between every take to preserve their height. And he had a mini flamethrower. I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life. That’s going on the list. Lucy I’m just thinking about the mountain of gifts I’ve got to buy for my children [aged 10 and three]. So I really don’t want anything for myself. Give it forward, I say. That’s very Amanda, isn’t it? What will Christmas look like for you this year? Joanna I’m vegetarian so I love all the bits that go around the feast – roast potatoes, brussels sprouts with chestnuts, just not the centrepiece. Wouldn’t it be lovely if we didn’t kill things at Christmas and just for once celebrated birth and life?
Some shows thrive despite being slated by critics — because sometimes terrible telly is just what we need
Add All's Fair to your watchlist It’s important to say from the off that no one sets out to make bad TV; also that any self-professed expert should think long and hard before pouring scorn on anyone else’s creative enterprise. As Theodore Roosevelt opined, “The credit belongs to the man [or woman!] in the arena, who… fails while daring greatly.” Teddy’s words come to mind with the news that season two of All’s Fair is on its way – despite critics’ valiant attempts to bury it at sea. This is Disney’s all-female legal drama that cost a whopping $69.7million, with a hefty proportion going on the salary of real-life law student Kim Kardashian in her first acting role. The rest of it has gone on clothes, cars, Oscar-nominated co-stars, but perhaps not the script, hence its rare 0% rating on review aggregator Rotten Tomatoes. Equally rare, The Guardian and The Times both gave it zero stars – which turned out to be generous, after the Daily Mail dug in and awarded it minus three stars. Ouch! Why so harsh? Well, you could point to the barn-door acting, the bling, the mixed message of sisters doing it for themselves, as long as “it” involves roasting their rich husbands for every last dollar. You could be generous and say the fighting over jewellery is a metaphor for autonomy and emancipation – although I fear it’s really just about the jewellery. If there’s another drama to be made about women’s righteous anger (and after Riot Women I’m not sure there is), this isn’t it. This comes hot on the heels of Robin Hood, which The Guardian called “the most gloriously bad TV of the year”. Indeed, its Star Wars-esque opening caption hints at what’s to come; no need to film all those wars when they can be explained away. Instead, MGM+’s purse has stretched to casting Sean Bean as the Sheriff of Nottingham, who brings us his meting out of medieval justice as perfected in Game of Thrones, very possibly wearing the same cloak. Young Robin endures his own version of Batman’s origin story, a trauma that hardens him with every ping of his bow, and of course there’s some forbidden young love in the glades. I’m no Aaron Sorkin, but I started mouthing the dialogue before it was delivered. It’s all completely unnecessary but very welcome on a winter night. Critical contempt misses the point. Shows like these deliberately provide the same kind of nonsensical escape as And Just Like That, Emily in Paris and a dozen reality TV shows that get tagged “guilty pleasures” (no one should ever feel guilty about watching TV!). I’m guessing Kimmy’s All’s Fair castmates have altered their style to match hers; the result is Made in Chelsea level acting in scenes redolent of the “plays” in Ru Paul’s Drag Race, which is exactly what fans of this show are used to. It’s not just critic-proof, it’s critic-dependent. The more so-called experts put it down, the more curious folk (like me) will seek it out. You couldn’t buy the kind of publicity the Daily Mail gave All’s Fair for free. Nicole Kidman once said of her marriage to Tom Cruise, “When you’re loved for your faults you feel really safe.” Yes, I know he left her a year later, but I’ve always thought it a sweet sentiment, and true of many TV gems. Blake’s 7 and Crossroads are forever fondly remembered not despite their obvious flaws, but because of them – wobbly background walls and phones that carried on ringing long after being answered, respectively. Just writing that made me smile, as did the news that All’s Fair’s Tomatometer rating has risen to an impressive 3%. With that, plus it’s returning A-list line-up, it already has all the stars it needs.
As Radio 4 marks 250 years since Jane Austen’s birth, Philippa Perry explains why the author remains so influential today
When I Met Jane Austen is on Radio 4 from Monday-Friday at 1145am and 1.45pm. Add it to your collection now This year, the 250th anniversary of the birth of Jane Austen, has seen ample celebration of the life and works of this singular observer of English life in the early 19th century. So far on TV, we’ve had a three-part documentary exploring Austen’s rebel spirit, the drama Miss Austen starring Keeley Hawes, and soon to follow is another version of Pride and Prejudice, this time with some big Netflix bucks and an all-star cast. When it comes to Austen, it seems broadcasters never scrimp, and Radio 4 is proving no exception – celebrating this important anniversary in style, with a dedicated season that has already featured a new take on Northanger Abbey, Radio 4 Extra mining its archive of classic dramas, and newly commissioned radio dramatisations of Pride and Prejudice (see below right) and, next weekend, Sense and Sensibility. The latter is also explored in a special episode of Bookclub on Tuesday (Austen’s 250th birthday) with Emma Thompson. Fans can also feast on a ten-part factual series, When I Met Jane Austen, in which her biographer, Dr Paula Byrne, asks a star line-up of guests – David Baddiel, Katherine Rundell, Val McDermid, Kate Atkinson, Andrew Davies, Amy Heckerling, Gurinder Chadha, Marlon James, Colm Tóibín and Philippa Perry – about how Austen’s work has shaped and influenced their lives and own creative efforts. Like so many of Austen’s many millions of fans across the world, psychotherapist and bestselling author Perry can barely remember life without recourse to the wit and wisdom of the author she credits with “changing her life” after she first encountered her work aged 12, and studied Pride and Prejudice for English O-level. So, what is so special about Austen’s small but peerless collection of works that includes six novels (Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, Emma, Northanger Abbey, Persuasion), one novella (Lady Susan) and the tantalisingly unfinished The Watsons and Sanditon? “It’s like having a gossip with a good friend when you’re working out what people are like,” says Perry, who has been working out what makes people tick for more than 40 years, since she first volunteered for the Samaritans. Perry is the author of four bestselling books, including the ground-breaking The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read (and Your Children Will Be Glad That You Did), which was published in 2019 and became one of the great breakout publishing hits of lockdown. She takes a keen psychologist’s eye to Austen’s writing and is convinced that, despite the author writing about social mores observed more than 200 years ago, she continues to have a great influence on her own work today. “She is such a great observer of human behaviour,” she reflects. “I remember quotes from her that remain fresh and relevant. For example, ‘To be sure, you knew no actual good of me – but nobody thinks of that when they fall in love.’ This is Elizabeth Bennet explaining to her suitor Darcy that no one falls in love with someone because they are good.” Austen was an observer, not a speculator, adds Perry. “She never had a scene where men were talking together without a woman present because, being a woman, she had never observed that.” For Perry, that makes the author the most reliable of documenters of the human condition. “Observation, observation, observation. She may have made up the stories, but she observed humans rather than reinventing them.” What subjects would Austen be writing about if she were alive today? Perry doesn’t believe her style would be any different: “She’d be noticing how humans are with each other and what becomes of them because of how they are with each other.” Speaking as one observer of the human condition in consideration of another, would Austen have made a good psychotherapist? Perry has no doubt. “She and Shakespeare would have had a phenomenal practice!”
Dame Joanna Lumley reveals her vegetarian Christmas plans: "Wouldn't it be lovely if we didn't kill things at Christmas?"
Two decades after Ella Enchanted, Dame Joanna Lumley and Lucy Punch reflect on festive traditions, family fun and their on-screen reunion.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. Joanna Lumley and Lucy Punch first played mother and daughter in the 2004 film Ella Enchanted. Some 20 years later, Punch plays social climber Amanda with Lumley her scene-stealing mother Felicity, first in Motherland, and now in its spin-off Amandaland. While filming the festive special, the pair reflected on their reunion, Christmases past and present, and what gift they’d buy for each other… Lucy, what were your first impressions of Joanna? LUCY: In Ella Enchanted, we played a ghastly stepmother and stepsister to the heroine, then we were reunited for Motherland, which was lovely, and now this. All this time later, I’m a very different person, but I believe Joanna’s exactly the same: so smart and funny. She charms everyone. When you’re doing comedy, you need lots of good energy, and hers is infectious. Joanna, what have you learnt working with Lucy? JOANNA: I couldn’t admire Lucy more. I remember her playing my daughter, but I’m not sure they [the Motherland producers] even knew that. She’s blossomed in this. A lot of acting by many of us is interchangeable, but some people stand out, and Lucy’s always been slightly different. She brings something extra. What are your fondest memories of Christmas growing up? JOANNA: We were in hot countries so we never saw snow, but Mummy would get balls of cotton wool to put on the windows like snowflakes. We were out in the Malayan Mari when the Disney film of Alice in Wonderland came out. I was given an Alice doll, and it was as beautiful a thing as I’ve ever seen, with yellow hair and a hair band, a blue dress with a little white apron – thrilling. Isn’t it lovely what we remember visually? What gift would you buy each other for Christmas? LUCY: I’d buy something very little, discreet and lovely, maybe a teeny, tiny book. Joanna likes little things. JOANNA: Lucy lives in California and has two boys, so I think I’d get her something that money can’t buy – an experience of some kind… Going down the Thames on a boat with the boys, perhaps. Yes, an adventure! Any special present you’d each like to unwrap? JOANNA: We were filming a dinner scene at this beautiful table yesterday, and the props boy Harry had to light and then put out the candles between every take to preserve their height. And he had a mini flamethrower. I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life. That’s going on the list. LUCY: I’m just thinking about the mountain of gifts I’ve got to buy for my children [aged 10 and three]. So I really don’t want anything for myself. Give it forward, I say. That’s very Amanda, isn’t it? What will Christmas look like for you this year? JOANNA: I’m vegetarian so I love all the bits that go around the feast – roast potatoes, brussels sprouts with chestnuts, just not the centrepiece. Wouldn’t it be lovely if we didn’t kill things at Christmas and just for once celebrated birth and life? The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Amandaland is available to stream on BBC iPlayer. Add Amandaland to your watchlist on the <a id="OWA8b702c45-bee9-94e4-f018-57518e78041b" title="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" href="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-outlook-id="449c28d9-909e-4aab-b6b8-153454f55d5e" data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="0">Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more. Check out more of our Comedy coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more from the biggest stars in TV, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Jane Austen’s enduring and universal appeal revealed by hit writers, from Pride & Prejudice 1995 screenwriter to David Baddiel
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. This year, the 250th anniversary of the birth of Jane Austen, has seen ample celebration of the life and works of this singular observer of English life in the early 19th century. So far on TV, we’ve had a three-part documentary exploring Austen’s rebel spirit, the drama Miss Austen starring Keeley Hawes, and soon to follow is another version of Pride and Prejudice, this time with some big Netflix bucks and an all-star cast. When it comes to Austen, it seems broadcasters never scrimp, and Radio 4 is proving no exception – celebrating this important anniversary in style, with a dedicated season that has already featured a new take on Northanger Abbey, Radio 4 Extra mining its archive of classic dramas, and newly commissioned radio dramatisations of Pride and Prejudice (see below right) and, next weekend, Sense and Sensibility. The latter is also explored in a special episode of Bookclub on Tuesday (Austen’s 250th birthday) with Emma Thompson. Fans can also feast on a ten-part factual series, When I Met Jane Austen, in which her biographer, Dr Paula Byrne, asks a star line-up of guests – David Baddiel, Katherine Rundell, Val McDermid, Kate Atkinson, Andrew Davies, Amy Heckerling, Gurinder Chadha, Marlon James, Colm Tóibín and Philippa Perry – about how Austen’s work has shaped and influenced their lives and own creative efforts. Like so many of Austen’s many millions of fans across the world, psychotherapist and bestselling author Perry can barely remember life without recourse to the wit and wisdom of the author she credits with “changing her life” after she first encountered her work aged 12, and studied Pride and Prejudice for English O-level. So, what is so special about Austen’s small but peerless collection of works that includes six novels (Sense and Sensibility, Pride and Prejudice, Mansfield Park, Emma, Northanger Abbey, Persuasion), one novella (Lady Susan) and the tantalisingly unfinished The Watsons and Sanditon? “It’s like having a gossip with a good friend when you’re working out what people are like,” says Perry, who has been working out what makes people tick for more than 40 years, since she first volunteered for the Samaritans. Perry is the author of four bestselling books, including the ground-breaking The Book You Wish Your Parents Had Read (and Your Children Will Be Glad That You Did), which was published in 2019 and became one of the great breakout publishing hits of lockdown. She takes a keen psychologist’s eye to Austen’s writing and is convinced that, despite the author writing about social mores observed more than 200 years ago, she continues to have a great influence on her own work today. “She is such a great observer of human behaviour,” she reflects. “I remember quotes from her that remain fresh and relevant. For example, ‘To be sure, you knew no actual good of me – but nobody thinks of that when they fall in love.’ This is Elizabeth Bennet explaining to her suitor Darcy that no one falls in love with someone because they are good.” Austen was an observer, not a speculator, adds Perry. “She never had a scene where men were talking together without a woman present because, being a woman, she had never observed that.” For Perry, that makes the author the most reliable of documenters of the human condition. “Observation, observation, observation. She may have made up the stories, but she observed humans rather than reinventing them.” What subjects would Austen be writing about if she were alive today? Perry doesn’t believe her style would be any different: “She’d be noticing how humans are with each other and what becomes of them because of how they are with each other.” Speaking as one observer of the human condition in consideration of another, would Austen have made a good psychotherapist? Perry has no doubt. “She and Shakespeare would have had a phenomenal practice!” David Baddiel - Comedian and author “I’ve never met anyone who said, ‘Oh, my God, you like Jane Austen. What’s wrong with you? I thought you were just a football lad.’ But I used to have a Times column and the people I wrote most about were John Updike and Jane Austen. I was writing against the voice that thinks Jane Austen is just a lovable maiden aunt, but also probably against the voice that was ‘David Baddiel and his Three Lions and laddishness likes Jane Austen? That can’t be right!’ I like the fact that’s challenging. But, I’m a storyteller primarily, and Austen is possibly the greatest storyteller in English literature, so I’m always going to love her.” Andrew Davies - Writer of the 1995 TV dramatisation of Pride and Prejudice “I first read Pride and Prejudice in school and remember really enjoying it right from the start. That was the one I taught most often as a teacher. I used to read it aloud to sixth formers. You think, isn’t that a terrible waste of time? Just reading aloud like they were little kids, but they would get so much more and then be able to read it themselves. One of the things I always said in teaching is that this book is not just about social fripperies and little bits of irony. It’s about sex and money and primal urges and all sorts of big important things.” Katherine Rundell - Children’s author “I first met Jane Austen when I was really quite young, maybe nine or 10, at a time that I don’t think I would have had the stamina to read her. She is absolutely staggering. [Her Juvenilia] is like no other young person’s writing I have ever encountered in my life. It is so funny; it is so sharp. The majority of the children’s writing that I read has not yet worked out that the way a character moves through a plot is what makes a story. Children usually don’t have enough of a hinterland of knowledge of the way normal literature might work to understand how you might subvert it.” Kate Atkinson - Creator of the Jackson Brodie crime novels “You read Mansfield Park and think, well, that’s not Emma. That’s not Pride and Prejudice. I’m not sure I like that book. I revisited Fanny Price and Mansfield Park a few years ago, and wondered: why did she write this book? She’d had success with Pride and Prejudice, which she started writing quite early in her life. So at that point, she knew she was a writer, but I think that she wanted to write something that established her as a real writer, that showed she knew how to shape a novel, that she wasn’t just going to be writing Elizabeth Bennet — because there must have been a pull to write Pride and Prejudice Two.” Val McDermid - Crime novelist “I first read Northanger Abbey when I was 17, the same age as Catherine Morland and I thought, she’s ridiculous, she’s stupid. And then when I read the book again when I was in my early 30s, because I was trying to break down people who I considered to be good storytellers to see how they work, I was very impressed. I could see the humour in it and I could see why it was important to have the kind of central character that she had. The third time I read it, I was in my 50s and had a son. I saw it from the perspective of the parent, where your child is going out into the world and you’re anxious about them but you also realise the absurdity of your behaviour in many respects. Every time I read it, it’s like reading it for the first time.” Amy Heckerling - Writer of the movie Clueless, which updated Emma to modern LA “When I was in college at NYU, I took a class on British literature. We read Dickens and Sir Walter Scott and we read Emma, as a representation of Jane Austen. I just loved the book, I went crazy for it. It was so wonderful to read about such a strong, confident character. To pick up a book from another world and another time, and to find it so right on the money about what it’s like to be a young person — you can jump through time like that, and reach us.” The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here.
We used to enjoy watching celebrities go off-piste — but now those moments are called “content” and have lost their frisson
Add The Most Embarrassing TV Guests to your watchlist It’s not often you feel sorry for Tom Cruise. Whether he’s diving headfirst into Paris’s Olympic stadium, defying gravity perched aloft Dubai’s Burj Khalifa or just donning a pair of Ray-bans to ride a motorbike along an ocean-front, he invariably epitomises cool, as if he were the love child of The Fonz and Huggy Bear – that is, with one exception. In 2005, he turned up on Oprah Winfrey’s chat show, ostensibly to promote his latest film. Instead, intent on expressing his love for future wife Katie Holmes, he variously shook his host’s shoulders, fist-pumped the floor and finally leapt onto the couch. Were we all having what he was having? Not so much. Instead, Winfrey spoke for everyone when she pointed out, “We’ve never seen you behave this way before.” In that brief, shining moment, Cruise “went viral” before it was a thing and proved he shares hallowed turf with Noel Edmonds (solemnly addressing his own Guardian statue in his recent documentary), Holly Willoughby (asking This Morning viewers, “Are you OK?” We’re fine!), Guy Goma (who went for a job interview at the BBC and ended up live on News 24) and Judy Finnigan (jaw-droppingly top-dropping at the NTA Awards). All have given us TV moments to watch through our fingers but never fully turn away from. Now they’re among those featured in an irresistible 5 documentary series (most embarrassing of all, it includes your friendly columnist as a nodding head, but don’t let that put you off). But why can’t we get enough of such clips? What puts the “fest” in “cringe”? It ill becomes us to dwell on the most obvious answer, everyone’s favourite German word schadenfreude, that is, pleasure derived from another’s misfortune, but it’s clearly a factor. Specifically, though, TV aims to offer us a world shinier, blander and more scripted than our real lives, so when humanity in all its foibles succeeds in breaking through, it’s both immensely jarring and wonderfully relatable. It’s no fun when there’s a clear victim – a young Taylor Swift was ill-prepared for Kanye West to storm her stage at the 2009 MTV VMAs, and a pair of judges were sacked after they shredded a young contestant on New Zealand’s X Factor, shouting “You’re a laughing stock” – but for the most part, such moments offer a refreshing antidote to all the blandness we’re otherwise fed. Except, these kinds of clips pretty much all date from TV times gone by. These days, there’s so much media on offer that very few what we used to call “watercooler moments” have the power to cut through the noise and stop us in our tracks. While the nation can still pause for an irate BGT contestant to throw an egg at Simon Cowell, it’s no more eventful than the slurry of such incidents available on TikTok; it’s Beadle’s About on tap. Bloopers used to be edited out, saved for the director’s reel and revealed at the wrap party. Now they’re edited in, shared with millions and called “content”. Something more profound, too, has occurred along the way. From politicians to presenters to fake heiresses to Tinder swindlers, very few public figures still remain in thrall to a single invisible referee that used to guide our behavioural norms; instead they strive for clicks, views and comments to measure success. We live in an age where there really is no such thing as bad publicity, and nobody, but nobody, actually gets cancelled. That we’ve reached this state of affairs is far more embarrassing than Judy’s button-popping boo-boo or even Tom’s sofa-leap of love.
As All's Fair season 2 beckons, critical contempt for the hit Kim Kardashian show misses the point entirely
All's Fair is returning to our screens, showing that even zero-star reviews can’t stop a determined TV drama.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. It’s important to say from the off that no one sets out to make bad TV; also that any self-professed expert should think long and hard before pouring scorn on anyone else’s creative enterprise. As Theodore Roosevelt opined, “The credit belongs to the man [or woman!] in the arena, who… fails while daring greatly.” Teddy’s words come to mind with the news that season two of All’s Fair is on its way – despite critics’ valiant attempts to bury it at sea. This is Disney’s all-female legal drama that cost a whopping $69.7million, with a hefty proportion going on the salary of real-life law student Kim Kardashian in her first acting role. The rest of it has gone on clothes, cars, Oscar-nominated co-stars, but perhaps not the script, hence its rare 0% rating on review aggregator Rotten Tomatoes. Equally rare, The Guardian and The Times both gave it zero stars – which turned out to be generous, after the Daily Mail dug in and awarded it minus three stars. Ouch! Why so harsh? Well, you could point to the barn-door acting, the bling, the mixed message of sisters doing it for themselves, as long as “it” involves roasting their rich husbands for every last dollar. You could be generous and say the fighting over jewellery is a metaphor for autonomy and emancipation – although I fear it’s really just about the jewellery. If there’s another drama to be made about women’s righteous anger (and after Riot Women I’m not sure there is), this isn’t it. This comes hot on the heels of Robin Hood, which The Guardian called “the most gloriously bad TV of the year”. Indeed, its Star Wars-esque opening caption hints at what’s to come; no need to film all those wars when they can be explained away. Instead, MGM+’s purse has stretched to casting Sean Bean as the Sheriff of Nottingham, who brings us his meting out of medieval justice as perfected in Game of Thrones, very possibly wearing the same cloak. Young Robin endures his own version of Batman’s origin story, a trauma that hardens him with every ping of his bow, and of course there’s some forbidden young love in the glades. I’m no Aaron Sorkin, but I started mouthing the dialogue before it was delivered. It’s all completely unnecessary but very welcome on a winter night. Critical contempt misses the point. Shows like these deliberately provide the same kind of nonsensical escape as And Just Like That, Emily in Paris and a dozen reality TV shows that get tagged “guilty pleasures” (no one should ever feel guilty about watching TV!). I’m guessing Kimmy’s All’s Fair castmates have altered their style to match hers; the result is Made in Chelsea level acting in scenes redolent of the “plays” in Ru Paul’s Drag Race, which is exactly what fans of this show are used to. It’s not just critic-proof, it’s critic-dependent. The more so-called experts put it down, the more curious folk (like me) will seek it out. You couldn’t buy the kind of publicity the Daily Mail gave All’s Fair for free. Nicole Kidman once said of her marriage to Tom Cruise, “When you’re loved for your faults you feel really safe.” Yes, I know he left her a year later, but I’ve always thought it a sweet sentiment, and true of many TV gems. Blake’s 7 and Crossroads are forever fondly remembered not despite their obvious flaws, but because of them – wobbly background walls and phones that carried on ringing long after being answered, respectively. Just writing that made me smile, as did the news that All’s Fair’s Tomatometer rating has risen to an impressive 3%. With that, plus its returning A-list line-up, it already has all the stars it needs. This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. All's Fair is available to stream on Disney+. You can sign up to Disney+ from £5.99 a month now. Add Down All's Fair to your watchlist on the <a id="OWA8b702c45-bee9-94e4-f018-57518e78041b" class="x_OWAAutoLink" title="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" href="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-outlook-id="449c28d9-909e-4aab-b6b8-153454f55d5e" data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="0">Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
What are embarrassing TV moments in an age where nobody actually gets cancelled and there's no such thing as bad publicity?
We used to enjoy watching celebrities go off-piste – but now those moments are called "content" and have lost their frisson.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. It’s not often you feel sorry for Tom Cruise. Whether he’s diving headfirst into Paris’s Olympic stadium, defying gravity perched aloft Dubai’s Burj Khalifa or just donning a pair of Ray-bans to ride a motorbike along an ocean-front, he invariably epitomises cool, as if he were the love child of The Fonz and Huggy Bear – that is, with one exception. In 2005, he turned up on Oprah Winfrey’s chat show, ostensibly to promote his latest film. Instead, intent on expressing his love for future wife Katie Holmes, he variously shook his host’s shoulders, fist-pumped the floor and finally leapt onto the couch. Were we all having what he was having? Not so much. Instead, Winfrey spoke for everyone when she pointed out, “We’ve never seen you behave this way before.” In that brief, shining moment, Cruise “went viral” before it was a thing and proved he shares hallowed turf with Noel Edmonds (solemnly addressing his own Guardian statue in his recent documentary), Holly Willoughby (asking This Morning viewers, “Are you OK?” We’re fine!), Guy Goma (who went for a job interview at the BBC and ended up live on News 24) and Judy Finnigan (jaw-droppingly top-dropping at the NTA Awards). All have given us TV moments to watch through our fingers but never fully turn away from. Now they’re among those featured in an irresistible 5 documentary series (most embarrassing of all, it includes your friendly columnist as a nodding head, but don’t let that put you off). But why can’t we get enough of such clips? What puts the “fest” in “cringe”? View oEmbed on the source website It ill becomes us to dwell on the most obvious answer, everyone’s favourite German word schadenfreude, that is, pleasure derived from another’s misfortune, but it’s clearly a factor. Specifically, though, TV aims to offer us a world shinier, blander and more scripted than our real lives, so when humanity in all its foibles succeeds in breaking through, it’s both immensely jarring and wonderfully relatable. It’s no fun when there’s a clear victim – a young Taylor Swift was ill-prepared for Kanye West to storm her stage at the 2009 MTV VMAs, and a pair of judges were sacked after they shredded a young contestant on New Zealand’s X Factor, shouting “You’re a laughing stock” – but for the most part, such moments offer a refreshing antidote to all the blandness we’re otherwise fed. View oEmbed on the source website Except, these kinds of clips pretty much all date from TV times gone by. These days, there’s so much media on offer that very few what we used to call “watercooler moments” have the power to cut through the noise and stop us in our tracks. While the nation can still pause for an irate BGT contestant to throw an egg at Simon Cowell, it’s no more eventful than the slurry of such incidents available on TikTok; it’s Beadle’s About on tap. Bloopers used to be edited out, saved for the director’s reel and revealed at the wrap party. Now they’re edited in, shared with millions and called “content”. Something more profound, too, has occurred along the way. From politicians to presenters to fake heiresses to Tinder swindlers, very few public figures still remain in thrall to a single invisible referee that used to guide our behavioural norms; instead they strive for clicks, views and comments to measure success. We live in an age where there really is no such thing as bad publicity, and nobody, but nobody, actually gets cancelled. That we’ve reached this state of affairs is far more embarrassing than Judy’s button-popping boo-boo or even Tom’s sofa-leap of love. The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. The Most Embarrassing TV Guests airs on Saturday 6 December at 10.35pm on 5. Check out more of our Entertainment coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what else is on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
An exclusive preview of Beyond Paradise this Christmas…
Add Beyond Paradise to your watchlist A smiling Barbara Flynn is being careful not to say too much about this year’s festive trip to Shipton Abbott — “they don’t tell me anything,” she clearly fibs. But she lets slip a few hints: “It starts with a party for the gang — we’re all having a lovely time, but of course it sets the scene for the first puzzle. And Martha has a secret; she wants to spring a surprise.” That’s all we get before Flynn firmly zips her lips. Previously a familiar face in shows from Open All Hours to Cracker, the veteran actor knows better than to spoil the fun for Beyond Paradise’s many fans. Since the show’s 2023 debut, Flynn has regularly stolen scenes as Anne — mum of Martha (Sally Bretton), prospective mother-in-law of DI Humphrey Goodman (Kris Marshall). “I adore Sally,” she says. “We had a lot of scenes together when the show began, talking about grief for Martha’s father, and it wasn’t long after my own husband had died, so it was good to have that outlet. That’s the wonderful thing about acting.” There has also been a slow but palpable thawing in Anne’s feelings for Humphrey. “Well, there’s the obvious mother-in-law thing, but yes,” Flynn agrees, “he’s divine. There’s the thing of him being clumsy, which is funny because Kris isn’t at all clumsy, he’s the opposite. But Humphrey is always in the wrong place doing the wrong thing. And there’s all that in this story.” With series four of Beyond Paradise (the first of the Death in Paradise spin-offs) currently filming, what does Flynn credit for its extraordinary success? “Most age groups are represented,” she reflects, “so you have this amazing place where people can go and see themselves and their own existences. And I think of something Kelby [Dylan Llewellyn] says in this Christmas episode, about a character ‘being home for Christmas’. It’s very gentle, but that warmth is key.”
Lucy Punch’s sitcom gets a special present with Jennifer Saunders joining Joanna Lumley and co for a family get-together
Add Amandaland to your watchlist We’re in a stately but cosy country pile somewhere north of London, sipping big mugs of hot chocolate by a roaring fire, with a table set for dinner and a towering, twinkling tree. It’s mid-October, but it definitely feels a lot like Christmas. That’s because Amanda (Lucy Punch), whom we first met in Motherland but is now spinning happily in her own aspirational universe, is spending Yuletide with her mother Felicity (Joanna Lumley) at the home of her aunt Joan (Jennifer Saunders, in a bit of irresistible casting that sees the Absolutely Fabulous partners-in-disgrace reunited after nine years). “Working with Joanna has been the dream. She’s smart and funny, and just charms everyone,” Punch tells RT. “Now having Jennifer as another maternal figure in the mix, I’m in absolute heaven. As a child, I had all of the VHS tapes of French and Saunders, and I watched them on repeat. And now here we are.” Is it intimidating? “No, Jennifer’s brilliant to work with, coming up with ideas and lines, finding new stuff. She’s very generous.” Such festive bonhomie all feels a world away from Amanda’s usual habitat of South Harlesden – sorry, that’s “SoHa” if you’re Amanda, or “that area around Wormwood Scrubs” if you’re her fawning but frank pal Anne (Philippa Dunne), who’s inevitably come along for the ride this Christmas. “Anne’s plans to go to Ireland and be with her family have been disrupted by weather,” says Dunne. “Being Anne, she’s very upset about it, but once she’s with Amanda, it’s fine.” Bearing in mind Amanda’s condescension towards her faithful friend, why does Anne never rebel? “There have been a couple of times when the worm has turned,” says Dunne, “but generally for Anne, it’s about basking in the golden glow that Amanda gives, maybe hoping a bit of it washes off on her.” Somehow, Amanda’s downstairs neighbour, single dad and still potential love interest Mal, is also in tow. “Amanda’s a fish out of water in SoHa,” says actor Samuel Anderson, “but she’s such a big fish, you kind of get sucked into her pool. It’s very British to love a snob who falls on their face, but she’s impossible to hate. Then, just when you’re thinking she’s naive and beautiful, she’s back on her feet and doing something else really annoying.” He smirks. “What can I say? It’s reluctant surrender.” On Amanda’s behalf, Punch takes such perspectives in her stride. With a wink to make Lumley proud, she explains it all away. “What can I say? Like moths to a flame.”
Writers are starting to explore Northern Ireland’s violent history to create soul-searching TV
Add Say Nothing to your watchlist In the very first reel, we’re reminded that “the Irish have been arguing over the same sh*te for 800 years”. So it comes as no surprise that the drama Say Nothing – about the Troubles in Northern Ireland and the toll they took, including a burden of silence carried by many to this day – has already drawn as much criticism as praise from all sides. Adapted from Patrick Radden Keefe’s non-fiction bestseller, it stars Maxine Peake as the former paramilitary Dolours Price, narrating and reflecting on her violent past – as the real Price and others did for Boston College’s “Belfast Project”, an oral history of the Troubles – before the drama flashes back to chart how Price and her sister Marian evolved from peaceful protestors into key members of the IRA unit that carried out the 1973 Old Bailey bombing. True, there’s a caperish quality to some of their “fundraising” antics – the sisters dress up as nuns to rob a bank at gunpoint – that presumably won’t sit well with victims of such violence. There’s nothing about loyalist paramilitaries’ equal and opposite activities, and the Republican mission is positioned as one of ideological zeal, with no account of the economic disparity suffered by Catholics. And Gerry Adams has, of course, denied ever being part of the IRA or its activities, the disclaimer after every episode providing a wry counterpoint to his vivid depiction on screen. Whatever it gets wrong, Say Nothing succeeds in bringing home the cost wrought to so many by virtue of era and circumstance – when living in a particular street, or drinking in a particular pub, construed a political act. Equally evocative is Trespasses, also adapted from a bestselling book and set at the height of the Troubles. The best TV drama I’ve seen this year, it depicts the forbidden love affair between teacher Cushla (Catholic) and lawyer Michael (married, Protestant), and delicately weaves the personal with the political. The stakes are made clear by the rotten fate of a Protestant-Catholic couple living on a nearby estate. After a lovers’ tiff, Michael asks Cushla, “We’re all right?” She replies, “We’re doomed. Apart from that, we’re grand.” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/3/2025/11/Gerry-da47331.jpg" width="6000" height="4000" alt="A man and a woman stand side by side on a quiet urban street. The man wears a teal suit and patterned tie, while the woman wears a brown coat over a red dress and holds a clutch bag. Behind them, soldiers in camouflage stand guard with rifles near residential buildings, creating a tense atmosphere. The scene feels set in the 1970s, with muted tones and overcast skies adding to the somber mood." title="Trespasses" /> Nearly 30 years after the Good Friday Agreement of 1998, a host of writers from Northern Ireland are leaning into its violent past to create subtle, soul-searching drama. Historians pin the start of the Troubles to 1968, which means it’s taken nearly as long as they lasted for writers to speak up – why? The answer is the same reason their stories remain powerful now: that no one who lived through that era – one of armed soldiers patrolling streets, helicopters whirring overhead and threat all around – emerged unaffected. Every resident of Northern Ireland, particularly Belfast, was steeped in “fight or flight”, too busy trying to get through each day to build the narrative, let alone provide the complex political, cultural, religious context these stories demand. Three decades later, we meet characters both real and invented, ordinary people rendered extraordinary through circumstance, capable of the worst of behaviour, but also of unexpected kindness and courage. The stories are embedded in the era, but the humanity is timeless. Nowhere is the contrast between ordinary life and extraordinary setting more charming than in Derry Girls. When a bomb threat closes a nearby bridge and Aunt Sarah complains, “they want ordinary people to suffer”, it transpires she’ll have to miss her appointment at the sunbed salon. For three series, writer Lisa McGee had us laughing out loud with her take on the past, but finally brought a lump to the throat with an ending where every generation votes “Yes” in the 1998 referendum for peace. Say Nothing and Trespasses also conclude with modern-day scenes. It’s telling that, even in exploring the past, all three reach for upbeat, optimistic bookmarks to all that went before.
Subtle, soul-searching dramas tackling Northern Ireland’s Troubles are proving that few escaped this era unscathed
Writers are starting to explore Northern Ireland’s violent history to create soul-searching TV.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. In the very first reel, we’re reminded that “the Irish have been arguing over the same sh*te for 800 years”. So it comes as no surprise that the drama Say Nothing – about the Troubles in Northern Ireland and the toll they took, including a burden of silence carried by many to this day – has already drawn as much criticism as praise from all sides. Adapted from Patrick Radden Keefe’s non-fiction bestseller, it stars Maxine Peake as the former paramilitary Dolours Price, narrating and reflecting on her violent past – as the real Price and others did for Boston College’s “Belfast Project”, an oral history of the Troubles – before the drama flashes back to chart how Price and her sister Marian evolved from peaceful protestors into key members of the IRA unit that carried out the 1973 Old Bailey bombing. True, there’s a caperish quality to some of their “fundraising” antics – the sisters dress up as nuns to rob a bank at gunpoint – that presumably won’t sit well with victims of such violence. There’s nothing about loyalist paramilitaries’ equal and opposite activities, and the Republican mission is positioned as one of ideological zeal, with no account of the economic disparity suffered by Catholics. And Gerry Adams has, of course, denied ever being part of the IRA or its activities, the disclaimer after every episode providing a wry counterpoint to his vivid depiction on screen. Whatever it gets wrong, Say Nothing succeeds in bringing home the cost wrought to so many by virtue of era and circumstance – when living in a particular street, or drinking in a particular pub, construed a political act. Equally evocative is Trespasses, also adapted from a bestselling book and set at the height of the Troubles. The best TV drama I’ve seen this year, it depicts the forbidden love affair between teacher Cushla (Catholic) and lawyer Michael (married, Protestant), and delicately weaves the personal with the political. The stakes are made clear by the rotten fate of a Protestant-Catholic couple living on a nearby estate. After a lovers’ tiff, Michael asks Cushla, “We’re all right?” She replies, “We’re doomed. Apart from that, we’re grand.” <img src="https://images.immediate.co.uk/production/volatile/sites/3/2025/11/unnamed-file-ca2eeaf.jpg" width="5938" height="3959" alt="A man in a dark suit gently kisses the forehead of a woman wearing an off-the-shoulder white dress with pink trim. She holds a brown clutch and leans slightly toward him with a small smile. They are standing in a warmly lit room with wood paneling and abstract artwork on the wall behind them, creating an intimate and tender atmosphere." title="Trespasses" /> Nearly 30 years after the Good Friday Agreement of 1998, a host of writers from Northern Ireland are leaning into its violent past to create subtle, soul-searching drama. Historians pin the start of the Troubles to 1968, which means it’s taken nearly as long as they lasted for writers to speak up – why? The answer is the same reason their stories remain powerful now: that no one who lived through that era – one of armed soldiers patrolling streets, helicopters whirring overhead and threat all around – emerged unaffected. Every resident of Northern Ireland, particularly Belfast, was steeped in “fight or flight”, too busy trying to get through each day to build the narrative, let alone provide the complex political, cultural, religious context these stories demand. Three decades later, we meet characters both real and invented, ordinary people rendered extraordinary through circumstance, capable of the worst of behaviour, but also of unexpected kindness and courage. The stories are embedded in the era, but the humanity is timeless. Nowhere is the contrast between ordinary life and extraordinary setting more charming than in Derry Girls. When a bomb threat closes a nearby bridge and Aunt Sarah complains, “they want ordinary people to suffer”, it transpires she’ll have to miss her appointment at the sunbed salon. For three series, writer Lisa McGee had us laughing out loud with her take on the past, but finally brought a lump to the throat with an ending where every generation votes “Yes” in the 1998 referendum for peace. Say Nothing and Trespasses also conclude with modern-day scenes. It’s telling that, even in exploring the past, all three reach for upbeat, optimistic bookmarks to all that went before. The latest issue of Radio Times is out on Tuesday – subscribe here. Say Nothing is on Monday and Tuesday at 9pm on Channel 4. Trespasses is available on Channel 4 streaming. Add Say Nothing and Trespasses to your watchlist on the <a id="OWA8b702c45-bee9-94e4-f018-57518e78041b" title="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" href="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-outlook-id="449c28d9-909e-4aab-b6b8-153454f55d5e" data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="0">Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Amandaland star teases Christmas special reunion for Absolutely Fabulous icons as Jennifer Saunders joins cast
Lucy Punch’s sitcom gets a special present with Jennifer Saunders joining Joanna Lumley and co for a family get-together.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. We’re in a stately but cosy country pile somewhere north of London, sipping big mugs of hot chocolate by a roaring fire, with a table set for dinner and a towering, twinkling tree. It’s mid-October, but it definitely feels a lot like Christmas. That’s because Amanda (Lucy Punch), whom we first met in Motherland but is now spinning happily in her own aspirational universe, is spending Yuletide with her mother Felicity (Joanna Lumley) at the home of her aunt Joan (Jennifer Saunders, in a bit of irresistible casting that sees the Absolutely Fabulous partners-in- disgrace reunited after nine years). “Working with Joanna has been the dream. She’s smart and funny, and just charms everyone,” Punch tells RT. “Now having Jennifer as another maternal figure in the mix, I’m in absolute heaven. As a child, I had all of the VHS tapes of French and Saunders, and I watched them on repeat. And now here we are.” Is it intimidating? “No, Jennifer’s brilliant to work with, coming up with ideas and lines, finding new stuff. She’s very generous.” Such festive bonhomie all feels a world away from Amanda’s usual habitat of South Harlesden – sorry, that’s “SoHa” if you’re Amanda, or “that area around Wormwood Scrubs” if you’re her fawning but frank pal Anne (Philippa Dunne), who’s inevitably come along for the ride this Christmas. “Anne’s plans to go to Ireland and be with her family have been disrupted by weather,” says Dunne. “Being Anne, she’s very upset about it, but once she’s with Amanda, it’s fine.” Bearing in mind Amanda’s condescension towards her faithful friend, why does Anne never rebel? “There have been a couple of times when the worm has turned,” says Dunne, “but generally for Anne, it’s about basking in the golden glow that Amanda gives, maybe hoping a bit of it washes off on her.” Somehow, Amanda’s downstairs neighbour, single dad and still potential love interest Mal, is also in tow. “Amanda’s a fish out of water in SoHa,” says actor Samuel Anderson, “but she’s such a big fish, you kind of get sucked into her pool. It’s very British to love a snob who falls on their face, but she’s impossible to hate. Then, just when you’re thinking she’s naive and beautiful, she’s back on her feet and doing something else really annoying.” He smirks. “What can I say? It’s reluctant surrender.” On Amanda’s behalf, Punch takes such perspectives in her stride. With a wink to make Lumley proud, she explains it all away. “What can I say? Like moths to a flame.” The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Amandaland is available to stream on BBC iPlayer. Add Amandaland to your watchlist on the <a id="OWA8b702c45-bee9-94e4-f018-57518e78041b" title="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" href="https://www.radiotimes.com/download-the-app/?af_xp=custom&pid=website&c=editorial_content&is_retargeting=true&af_reengagement_window=30d" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-outlook-id="449c28d9-909e-4aab-b6b8-153454f55d5e" data-auth="NotApplicable" data-linkindex="0">Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more. Check out more of our Comedy coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Beyond Paradise 2025 Christmas special teased by star as Martha hides a secret
"She wants to spring a surprise," says Barbara Flynn of her fictional daughter in the Beyond Paradise festive episode.
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. A smiling Barbara Flynn is being careful not to say too much about this year’s trip to Shipton Abbott in the Beyond Paradise Christmas special – “they don’t tell me anything,” she clearly fibs. But she lets slip a few hints: “It starts with a party for the gang – we’re all having a lovely time, but of course it sets the scene for the first puzzle. And Martha has a secret; she wants to spring a surprise.” That’s all we get before Flynn firmly zips her lips. Previously a familiar face in shows from Open All Hours to Cracker, the veteran actor knows better than to spoil the fun for Beyond Paradise’s many fans. Since the show’s 2023 debut, Flynn has regularly stolen scenes as Anne – mum of Martha (Sally Bretton), prospective mother-in-law of DI Humphrey Goodman (Kris Marshall). “I adore Sally,” she says. “We had a lot of scenes together when the show began, talking about grief for Martha’s father, and it wasn’t long after my own husband had died, so it was good to have that outlet. That’s the wonderful thing about acting.” Read more: Death in Paradise and Beyond Paradise reveal guest cast for Christmas specials – including Doctor Who and Ted Lasso stars Return to Paradise stars tease crossover hopes – and reveal a major one that almost happened with beloved character There has also been a slow but palpable thawing in Anne’s feelings for Humphrey. “Well, there’s the obvious mother-in-law thing, but yes,” Flynn agrees, “he’s divine. There’s the thing of him being clumsy, which is funny because Kris isn’t at all clumsy, he’s the opposite. But Humphrey is always in the wrong place doing the wrong thing. And there’s all that in this story.” With series four of Beyond Paradise (the first of the Death in Paradise spin-offs) currently filming, what does Flynn credit for its extraordinary success? “Most age groups are represented,” she reflects, “so you have this amazing place where people can go and see themselves and their own existences. And I think of something Kelby [Dylan Llewellyn] says in this Christmas episode, about a character ‘being home for Christmas’. It’s very gentle, but that warmth is key.” The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Death in Paradise and Beyond Paradise air on BBC iPlayer. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more from the biggest stars in TV, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
New tech can undoubtedly transform people’s lives, so is it AI or its creators that we should fear?
Add Chris McCausland: Seeing Into the Future to your watchlist Eighteen months ago, I sat in a packed conference room listening to the world’s richest man opine on many things. Treated like an all-seeing visionary not a businessman, Elon Musk was asked where he put the chance of an AI-related global disaster, what he termed “something terrible happening”. He replied: “10–20 per cent probability. The glass is 80-per-cent full. Look on the bright side.” While we wrestle with the promised pros and threatened cons of the AI tsunami, a new documentary – Chris McCausland: Seeing into the Future – offers a welcome respite from this existential overload, with a thrilling portrait of the benefits AI can bring. Never has one person been so perfectly positioned to present a show as here. Before the world of comedy called, McCausland – aka the man who saved Strictly – was a website developer with a degree in software engineering and, as he puts it, “a geek”. He was also born with a degenerative eye condition and has been blind since his mid-20s. He previously used a white stick and a guide dog, but didn’t get on with either. Now, aged 48, he has an iPhone offering accessibility tech that enables him to check train times, choose a T-shirt or buy a pint of milk, something he calls “a game changer in opening up the world and navigating the everyday”. When he shares the exhausting burden of endless dependence on others and his hunger for all the access offered by AI innovation, his lightness of touch and jokey manner belie his profound wish to be “just like everybody else”, and we’re rooting for him from the start. For his documentary, he travels to Silicon Valley, where – away from all the controversies of Facebook – Meta has developed a pair of AI-powered smart glasses. As soon as he puts them on, McCausland is given vivid descriptions of everything in front of him – it turns out he’s not interested in trees and lakes, so it’s off to shop for some vinyl. He travels in a driverless cab – “for the first time ever I’ve been alone in a moving car”. It’s intensely affecting to witness his experiences, and impossible to disagree when he waxes lyrical about the convenience AI offers – “building a bridge between blind people and the rest of the world… it feels like we’re invited into the club.” McCausland’s joy doesn’t mean we should ignore the politics, economics and questions of the bigger AI picture. We know that this multi-trillion-dollar industry is being spearheaded by tech entrepeneurs who are focused on profits, rather than making the world a better place. We know that current US politics has enabled a Wild West of innovation, with much softer levers of regulation and restraint than in previous administrations. And we know that one of Donald Trump’s big campaign donors, David Sacks, is heavily invested in this kind of tech and is also the White House AI and crypto tsar, making him the referee on a pitch where he’s also the centre forward. And we accept that there are as many doomsayers predicting the end is nigh as there are gurus promising us a golden age. The bigger questions about AI we’re not yet able to answer, or possibly work out even what to ask. For now, though, it’s possible to revel in McCausland’s exuberance for everything AI has to offer someone in his situation and, throughout this hour-long doc at least, follow Musk’s advice to look on the bright side.
Do we really need another season of Line of Duty?
AC-12 are back in business – but after that finale, what twists can Jed Mercurio possibly pull off next?
Add Line of Duty to your watchlist Adrian Dunbar, Martin Compston and Vicky McClure are seldom idle. In regular rotation like the figures on a Swiss cuckoo clock, no sooner has one of them completed their latest drama series on screen, than it’s time for another one of the trio to pop up. In Radio Times parlance, due to their frequency in our pages, they are what we fondly term "friends of the magazine". Of this phenomenon, two things are true. The first is that all three openly admit they wouldn’t have a tenth of their renown, and ability to greenlight so many solo TV projects, if they weren’t also Jed Mercurio’s chosen three – the leading alumni of the TV ratings juggernaut that was Line of Duty, his police corruption thriller that bowed out after six seasons in 2021, to an audience of 15.79 million, making it the highest rated UK drama since modern records began. Equally, they all know that, during their many sit-down interviews with RT, they can count the minutes on one hand before the question invariably comes… "When is it coming back?" Up to now the answer has always been a variation on, "We’d love to do it, but you’d have to ask Jed.” (Notice they don’t say "ask the BBC", in acknowledgement of the fact that Beeb bosses would obviously chew Mercurio’s hand off if it were holding a script - such power do those ratings bring a writer, good to see.) Until today when, finally, there is no need to ask, because the BBC has finally cemented the constant rumours, and confirmed that season seven is on its way. This is undoubtedly an (increasingly rare) good day to be a BBC boss, of the pop-the-cork variety, but is it good news more widely? Of course – no TV writer has been able to keep us on the edge of our seats in the way Mercurio managed through six seasons of a show that began life as a word-of-mouth sizzler on BBC Two, made household names of its leading trio and a selling point of Mercurio’s readiness to despatch ruthlessly other, bigger guest stars. It’s a rare universe where being Stephen Graham or Daniel Mays isn’t enough to keep you in the credits. Keeley Hawes’ career was transformed with her glow-down as Lindsay Denton, and we all became as fluent in Dunbar’s Irish lyricism – "now we’re sucking diesel" - as in deliberately dense police jargon – "for the tape, absence of evidence is not evidence of absence". Line of Duty finally crashed out in 2021, with the identity of arch-villain ‘H’ revealed in a season six finale that saw one of those national grid-measured moments of shared TV experience, like the old days. But was it a whimper or a bang? Many viewers groaned that ‘H’ turned out not to be some Bond super-nemesis operating from his lair, nor even Hastings himself, even if the nation couldn’t have coped with that on top of lockdown. Instead, the ultimate antagonist turned out to be ruthless dullard DSU Ian Buckells – the totem of Mercurio’s message that ineptitude allows corruption to triumph while evil sleeps. I found myself in a minority of one in being satisfied with this nuanced pay-off, while everyone else declared themselves let down, and demanded a recount. Six years later, and the people have had their way. Contrary to all writers’ rules of leaving them wanting more, Mercurio has been persuaded to break the glass for some emergency inspiration and give his audience what it demands. I have questions. For a start, exactly how are they going to deal with the previous resolution of H’s uncovering? Will Steve Arnott wake up and find the whole of season 6 was a Bobby-Ewing-shower situation? Or is there a tiny little Easter egg of an idea that Jed had buried away in seasons 4 or 5 for just such moments? Even if he has, having previously stuck to his principles in opting for a subtle, provocative and semi-realistic denouement instead of a High Noon shoot-out, how will he ride those two horses this time around to once again satisfy his vision while giving us braying masses what we want? The only thing we know for sure is that, as he’s done so masterfully in the past, Mercurio will keep us guessing to the end. Watch Line of Duty stars Gregory Piper and Nigel Boyle discuss a potential Line of Duty season 7 at the Radio Times Covers Party back in 2022 below: View Green Video on the source website
So, what should we expect from Line of Duty season 7? I have some questions
Adrian Dunbar, Martin Compston and Vicky McClure are seldom idle. In regular rotation like the figures on a Swiss cuckoo clock, no sooner has one of them completed their latest drama series on screen, than it’s time for another one of the trio to pop up. In Radio Times parlance, due to their frequency in our pages, they are what we fondly term "friends of the magazine". Of this phenomenon, two things are true. The first is that all three openly admit they wouldn’t have a tenth of their renown, and ability to greenlight so many solo TV projects, if they weren’t also Jed Mercurio’s chosen three – the leading alumni of the TV ratings juggernaut that was Line of Duty, his police corruption thriller that bowed out after six seasons in 2021, to an audience of 15.79 million, making it the highest rated UK drama since modern records began. Equally, they all know that, during their many sit-down interviews with RT, they can count the minutes on one hand before the question invariably comes… "When is it coming back?" Up to now the answer has always been a variation on, "We’d love to do it, but you’d have to ask Jed.” (Notice they don’t say "ask the BBC", in acknowledgement of the fact that Beeb bosses would obviously chew Mercurio’s hand off if it were holding a script - such power do those ratings bring a writer, good to see.) Until today when, finally, there is no need to ask, because the BBC has finally cemented the constant rumours, and confirmed that season seven is on its way. This is undoubtedly an (increasingly rare) good day to be a BBC boss, of the pop-the-cork variety, but is it good news more widely? Of course – no TV writer has been able to keep us on the edge of our seats in the way Mercurio managed through six seeasons of a show that began life as a word-of-mouth sizzler on BBC Two, made household names of its leading trio and a selling point of Mercurio’s readiness to despatch ruthlessly other, bigger guest stars. It’s a rare universe where being Stephen Graham or Daniel Mays isn’t enough to keep you in the credits. Keeley Hawes’ career was transformed with her glow-down as Lindsay Denton, and we all became as fluent in Dunbar’s Irish lyricism – "now we’re sucking diesel" - as in deliberately dense police jargon – "for the tape, absence of evidence is not evidence of absence". Line of Duty finally crashed out in 2021, with the identity of arch-villain ‘H’ revealed in a season six finale that saw one of those national grid-measured moments of shared TV experience, like the old days. But was it a whimper or a bang? Many viewers groaned that ‘H’ turned out not to be some Bond super-nemesis operating from his lair, nor even Hastings himself, even if the nation couldn’t have coped with that on top of lockdown. Instead, the ultimate antagonist turned out to be ruthless dullard DSU Ian Buckells – the totem of Mercurio’s message that ineptitude allows corruption to triumph while evil sleeps. I found myself in a minority of one in being satisfied with this nuanced pay-off, while everyone else declared themselves let down, and demanded a recount. Six years later, and the people have had their way. Contrary to all writers’ rules of leaving them wanting more, Mercurio has been persuaded to break the glass for some emergency inspiration and give his audience what it demands. I have questions. For a start, exactly how are they going to deal with the previous resolution of H’s uncovering? Will Steve Arnott wake up and find the whole of season 6 was a Bobby-Ewing-shower situation? Or is there a tiny little Easter egg of an idea that Jed had buried away in seasons 4 or 5 for just such moments? Even if he has, having previously stuck to his principles in opting for a subtle, provocative and semi-realistic denouement instead of a High Noon shoot-out, how will he ride those two horses this time around to once again satisfy his vision while giving us braying masses what we want? The only thing we know for sure is that, as he’s done so masterfully in the past, Mercurio will keep us guessing to the end. Read more: Line of Duty due to return in 2026 after "frustrating" H twist, reveals Adrian Dunbar Line of Duty favourite's "darkly comic" new series sets release date – and it's only weeks away Watch Line of Duty stars Gregory Piper and Nigel Boyle discuss a potential Line of Duty season 7 at the Radio Times Covers Party back in 2022 below: View Green Video on the source website Line of Duty seasons 1-6 are available to stream on BBC iPlayer. Check out more of our Drama coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Genius, inspiration and lots of hard work separate our biggest superstars from other so-called talents
Add One Shot with Ed Sheeran to your watchlist Ed Sheeran didn’t get to where he is without a parfumier’s nose for the zeitgeist. His new Netflix documentary – an hour long and filmed in one take by Philip Barantini, director of the hit drama Adolescence – sees him wandering the sunlit streets of Manhattan, strumming his guitar and singing the songs that have made him millions. It’s packed with heartwarming moments, from a surprise proposal to an open-bus singalong, but the slick production would count for nothing without, at its core, this modern troubadour’s skill in connecting with other people through music. How does he do it? For me, the best part of all of the “intimate” superstar documentaries – from Sheeran to Taylor Swift and Beyoncé to Coldplay – is when they show us the effort and inspiration involved. In an empty stadium before a gig, Sheeran explains the loop pedal he has made his own: “The key is timing, getting it on the one is the most important thing… then you add the keys…” The result: Shape of You, the first song to reach two billion streams on Spotify. Back in his home studio, he tells his producers that his wife told him off for taking their daughter out of her cot – “She’ll stop being trained to sleep, it’s a bad habit…” The result: Bad Habits, another two billion streams. Similarly, in Swift’s Miss Americana doc, the songstress is seen pouring her heart out, singing lyrics she’s written into her phone. She stands, hand in the air, ad-libbing as she goes, before shouting in amazed delight, “Did we just do a whole verse and chorus?” Sheeran says the initial spark of a good song is an unmatchable feeling. In Apple’s Beatles film, cameras catch the moment Paul McCartney plays around on his bass guitar and pulls Get Back (the song that gives the doc its title) out of the universe – it’s spine-tingling stuff. The Greatest Night in Pop charts how Lionel Richie herded dozens of the world’s greatest singers into musical cohesion to record We Are the World and it becomes clear that the star wattage of Michael Jackson or Bob Dylan is matched by the dazzling vocal skills of Darryl Hall and Steve Perry. As is usual for me, all roads lead to George Michael, but not to wade again through the tumult of his personal life. Instead, I picture him rehearsing in Paris, asking his backing singers to “come in half a beat earlier”. And his shyness at the Band Aid recording in 1984, until he stepped up to the mic, told producer Midge Ure, “That line is hard for me to sing powerfully, if you wanted to change the notation to start off higher…” and forever changed the whole song. None of this means these people aren’t capable of being monsters, capable of hurting others and/or themselves. Burt Bacharach once wrote a song with wife Carole Bayer Sager without realising the lyrics were about him, while one of George’s people once told me, “Don’t interview him, it’ll break your heart. Go back to the tunes.” The best of these people might be in their music. Such moments reveal the difference between them and other so-called “talents”, who increasingly inhabit the same showbusiness space. It’s time to invent another word: unlike reality TV types who require the oxygen of a camera to exist, musical superstars spend most of their time generating something out of nothing, an exercise demanding solitude, honesty and courage. As Sheeran explains, “It’s scary putting out your deepest, darkest thoughts to the world.” We’re just lucky that they do.
Why did some great postwar actors become better known for their hellraising than their performances?
Add Richard Burton: Wild Genius to your watchlist As Richard Burton appears on screen in kaleidoscopic colour, dressed in full armour and atop a horse, he is applauded by the adoring masses. The narrator proclaims, “In ten short years, he has conquered the world.” As it happens, he’s talking about Burton’s character, Alexander the Great, in the eponymous movie, but the words could apply to the actor himself. It was 1956, by when the young Welshman had already embarked on an extraordinary ascent, from the mining village of Pontrhydyfen, to Oxford University, to the London stage and Hollywood. Actor Siân Phillips remembers his West End debut – “he walked on and the whole theatre went cold” – while his first Hollywood role brought him an Oscar nomination, the first of seven. His voice, his presence, his love for poetry were all among his many splendid gifts, and he in turn offered them up to us. Why then, if you say the name “Richard Burton”, does a life of drama and diamonds immediately come to mind, one spent jumping between yachts and private jets in the glare of the paparazzi lens and, of course, a double marriage to Elizabeth Taylor? Because that’s all true, too. Burton was the primus inter pares of Britain’s still beloved mid-century stars, alongside the likes of Peter O’Toole, Richard Harris, Oliver Reed and co – a group of talented actors for whom the term “hellraiser” became a shorthand, as famous for their reckless real-life behaviour as for their undoubted dramatic talents. What was the unifying element, and why do they still bewitch us? For a start, they were all preternaturally gifted. Peter O’Toole “appeared on stage like an electric light,” is how he’s remembered by Anthony Hopkins, while Richard Harris brought us the tenderest of Camelots and even MacArthur Park (a 60s anthem I didn’t even realise for years was the same Richard Harris!). And they all arrived in London during an era of still unresolved postwar trauma, class collision and hedonistic freedom, when their acting skills meant they were each given the keys to a sweetshop beyond their wildest dreams. Michael Sheen sympathetically describes the pull between Burton’s loves – stage versus screen, devoted first wife Sybil versus passionate lover Elizabeth, Wales versus the universe – asking if drink was the escape. Whatever, it must have turned all of these world-class performers into crashing bores and hell to live with. Siân Phillips remembers one drunken rage culminating in her husband O’Toole demanding she be packed and gone from the house in two hours. The saddest contributor in the new BBC2 Burton doc is the friend who first saw him on stage in 1952 and then again in the last chapter of his life – “he was performing, but he was lost”. Laurence Olivier’s tipped successor had become the man who screamed through a full glass at a late-era director, “I could have been Lear!” Burton was always fascinated by Faustus, the man who traded his soul for power, riches and the most beautiful woman in the world, but the fate of Icarus would seem just as pertinent. The ones who flew not quite as high – Albert Finney, Michael Caine – went on to enduring greatness and happy, long lives. Anthony Hopkins, now sober for 50 years, has twice played the Lear that Burton never did. Certainly, nobody, at least that we know about, behaves like this in 2025, which is no doubt a relief for all studio executives, pub landlords and stars’ loved ones. But it means, as Kenneth Branagh says, almost wistfully, “No one is going to tell stories about us in 50 years’ time.” Was it all worth it? Harris would say so: “At least you knew I was here.”
Get rid of the BBC? Careful what you wish for…
Once the pride of Britain, the BBC now faces its biggest crisis yet – but would we really be better off without it?
Decades ago, I joined a cruise in blue waters off the southern coast of Turkey, where our captain spoke no words of English except "tips here" – until somehow, through the usual blustering British-person-meets-rest-of-world chats, he established where I worked. For the next three days, I was summoned to mealtimes with a shout of "BBC" that echoed across the Med. It was a different time: when our national broadcaster’s brand was considered up there with Coca-Cola for global recognition, and the NHS for trustworthiness. 30 years later, and mentions of "the BBC" once again abound, but this time to a collective eye-roll at yesterday’s headlines that a catalogue of controversies has culminated in both the director-general and the CEO of BBC News falling on their swords over the editing of a 2021 Donald Trump speech. Monday saw the BBC Chair Samir Shah add his apology for the "error of judgement" that caused the furore. Tim Davie’s resignation speech included reference to the intense personal and professional demands that have punctuated his five years in British media’s top job – those years have seen a roll-call of on-air talent disappearing from screen after a litany of behaviour variously criminal (Huw Edwards), allegedly bad (Gregg Wallace) or political (Carol Vorderman, Gary Lineker). The departures of Davie and his news chief Deborah Furness are more redolent of 2004. I was among those queuing up, some in tears, to bid a fond farewell to Greg Dyke after he quit as D-G, as did his Board Chairman, after the government complained about the news coverage of the dossier – "sexed up" as alleged by reporter Andrew Gilligan – putting the case for Iraq’s nuclear weapons and justifying invasion. We know the rest. Possibly apart from some of those involved in that debacle, there were no calls then for the binning of the BBC – this week’s episode feels more rotten and existentially threatening. We learned through a memorandum leaked to The Telegraph that the BBC desperately tried to audit its own failings with an external report, both the act and results of which have given plenty of ammunition to those on both sides – that this whole thing is a politically-fuelled conspiracy to bring down the broadcaster, or that this internal, secret wrangling is more proof it’s the right time, with just two years to go before Charter Renewal – to completely disband the 103-year-old institution and rebuild in an entirely different image, one more fit for the commercial and cultural realities of 2025. Be careful what you wish for. Of course, the BBC has its faults – I cringe at some of its attempts to keep up with the kids: buying the rights to Drag Race about half a decade too late, pulling BBC Three off the linear platform before U-turning at great expense, the self-satisfaction it displays when it builds an entire schedule around one formerly charming event like Eurovision, its reliance on too few, over-exposed presenters... Nevertheless, it remains the gold standard, not just for the UK but for the world. Overseas friends cite The Goodies, Doctor Who, Kenny Everett as a central part of their childhood TV diet. They’re always surprised to learn dramas like Brideshead Revisited and Downton Abbey weren’t actually BBC titles — "it feels like something they’d do”"— pointing to the fact that the BBC’s production and training ecosystem has long ensured all broadcasting boats rise. Countries from Canada to Australia to South Africa have built their own national broadcasting institutions in the BBC image, citing the worthwhile aspiration of "trust", "authority", "grown up TV". It’s a point of abject embarrassment that, while these broadcasters build on that original vision and continue to flourish, our homebuilt mothership is left struggling to justify its existence. Among Winston Churchill's many famous quotes, he called "democracy the worst form of government, except for all the others" – and the same is true for the BBC and its place in the firmament. Look to your left, to Russia and neighbours, and you find state-sponsored, state-controlled, state-supporting TV – propaganda not programmes. Look to your right, and you have American TV. The transparently commercial imperative – the first ad break often coming straight after the opening credits – used to be a source of mirth for foreign viewers, but has now evolved into something far more nakedly and ruthlessly driven. Meanwhile, pushing against the two walls of legislation and commercial rivals like Chewbacca in the trash compactor, the BBC tries gamely to balance our diets with wholesome fodder and some glittering, expensive jewels, in a way that only it can. Of course, it needs tidying up, refreshing, streamlining, reforming – but let’s not throw out the baby with the bathwater. Life without it would look very different, and we would all be the poorer. Check out more of our TV coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
In the wake of resignations from both the director-general and the CEO of BBC News, those calling for the closure of the BBC have not fully considered the consequences for broadcasting and Britain at large.
Decades ago, I joined a cruise in blue waters off the southern coast of Turkey, where our captain spoke no words of English except “tips here” – until somehow, through the usual blustering British-person-meets-rest-of-world chats, he established where I worked. For the next three days, I was summoned to mealtimes with a shout of “BBC” that echoed across the Med. It was a different time: when our national broadcaster’s brand was considered up there with Coca-Cola for global recognition, and NHS for trustworthiness. Thirty years later, and mentions of “the BBC” once again abound, but this time to a collective eye-roll at yesterday’s headlines that a catalogue of controversies has culminated in both the director-general and the CEO of BBC News falling on their swords over the editing of a 2021 Donald Trump speech. Monday saw the BBC Chair Samir Shah add his apology for the “error of judgement” that caused the furore. Tim Davie’s resignation speech included reference to the intense personal and professional demands that have punctuated his five years in British media’s top job – those years have seen a roll-call of on-air talent disappearing from screen after a litany of behaviour variously criminal (Huw Edwards), allegedly bad (Gregg Wallace) or political (Carol Vorderman, Gary Lineker). The departures of Davie and his news chief Deborah Furness are more redolent of 2004. I was among those queuing up, some in tears, to bid a fond farewell to Greg Dyke after he quit as D-G, as did his Board Chairman, after the government complained about the news coverage of the dossier – “sexed up” as alleged by reporter Andrew Gilligan – putting the case for Iraq’s nuclear weapons and justifying invasion. We know the rest. Possibly apart from some of those involved in that debacle, there were no calls then for the binning of the BBC — this week’s episode feels more rotten and existentially threatening. We learned through a memorandum leaked to The Telegraph that the BBC desperately tried to audit its own failings with an external report, both the act and results of which have given plenty of ammunition to those on both sides – that this whole thing is a politically fuelled conspiracy to bring down the broadcaster, or that this internal, secret wrangling is more proof it’s the right time – with just two years to go before Charter Renewal – to completely disband the 103-year-old institution and rebuild in an entirely different image, one more fit for the commercial and cultural realities of 2025. Be careful what you wish for. Of course, the BBC has its faults — I cringe at some of its attempts to keep up with the kids: buying the rights to Drag Race about half a decade too late, pulling BBC Three off the linear platform before U-turning at great expense, the self-satisfaction it displays when it builds an entire schedule around one formerly charming event like Eurovision, its reliance on too few, over-exposed presenters. Nevertheless, it remains the gold standard, not just for the UK but for the world. Overseas friends cite The Goodies, Doctor Who, Kenny Everett as a central part of their childhood TV diet. They’re always surprised to learn dramas like Brideshead Revisited and Downton Abbey weren’t actually BBC titles — “it feels like something they’d do” — pointing to the fact that the BBC’s production and training ecosystem has long ensured all broadcasting boats rise. Countries from Canada to Australia to South Africa have built their own national broadcasting institutions in the BBC image, citing the worthwhile aspiration of “trust”, “authority”, “grown up TV”. It’s a point of abject embarrassment that, while these broadcasters build on that original vision and continue to flourish, our homebuilt mothership is left struggling to justify its existence. Among Winston Churchill’s many famous quotes, he called “democracy the worst form of government, except for all the others” – and the same is true for the BBC and its place in the firmament. Look to your left, to Russia and neighbours, and you find state-sponsored, state-controlled, state-supporting TV — propaganda not programmes. Look to your right, and American TV. The transparently commercial imperative – the first ad break often coming straight after the opening credits — used to be a source of mirth for foreign viewers, but has now evolved into something far more nakedly and ruthlessly driven. Meanwhile, pushing against the two walls of legislation and commercial rivals like Chewbacca in the trash compactor, the BBC tries gamely to balance our diets with wholesome fodder and some glittering, expensive jewels, in a way that only it can. Of course, it needs tidying up, refreshing, streamlining, reforming — but let’s not throw out the baby with the bathwater. Life without it would look very different, and we would all be the poorer.
The Celebrity Traitors final review: Treachery and tears make for TV perfection
Alan Carr’s tearful, triumphant reveal crowned a finale that proved live, un-binged television can still unite the nation.
Warning: this article contains spoilers for the final of The Celebrity Traitors. Add it to your watchlist. Finally, we have a winner, and it’s watch-in-real-time, unstreamed, un-binged TV. It’s a rare and beautiful thing in 2025 to sit staring at the screen, knowing millions around the country are sitting on similar edges of seats, waiting to find out which of the five remaining players will emerge triumphant of The Celebrity Traitors. And what did we get? With only five left from the original 19 who entered the castle — two Traitors, three Faithful — it was all about alliances. Joe and Nick were in such cahoots working out how to oust the others, I spent the first hour wishing one of them had turned out to be a Traitor. Instead, the second best moment of the night came another way, with Nick ultimately joining the others in banishing Joe – could you hear your neighbours shouting at the screen?! That was the warm-up for the best, biggest twist of all, when Alan Carr came through as the final, solitary traitor left standing, telling the others, almost sadly, "I am, and have always been, a Traitor." Nick collapsed, David sighed, Alan cried and the sweet Faithful pair ended up comforting him in his moment of guilty triumph. It was perfect, must-watch TV. Following another effortlessly successful daytime mission that proved the celebs to be far better at physical challenges than they have ever been at unearthing Traitors, it was all about the penultimate Round Table. You know a show has fulfilled its promise of surprising us when one of the country’s premier historians is reduced to role of "useful idiot", but that’s where David Olusoga found himself – stuck in the middle as Faithful Joe and Nick battled to outwit Alan and Cat. All that classical training and scholarship served Olusoga not – ultimately, he just didn’t have the skills, or possibly stomach, to either betray or sniff out the treachery around him, which doesn’t really reflect that badly on him, I suppose. Instead, Joe’s strength of purpose saw Cat disposed of, but that same zeal proved his undoing at the very last Round Table, as Alan used all his powers of persuasion to unsettle others’ doubts in the big man, and clear his way to victory. So now, after five weeks and nine episodes, the ravens have left the castle, the drawbridge has been pulled up, the last of the faithful banished and the traitors unearthed. There have been some prize moments along the way: Celia Imrie’s wind proving she has a pro’s comedic timing in all things; Claire Balding’s disastrous attempt to participate in not commentate on a sporting challenge; the unprecedented nation-stopping Round Table stalemate between David and Mark Bonnar. All will be remembered, but none so powerfully as the two moments that bookended the series — both starring Alan. The first came when the third Traitor was initially unearthed, and even his fellow conspirators laughed out loud; the second when he was finally revealed to the Faithful, a moment set to become a nation-sweeping meme. The Chatty Man’s presence as a giggling assassin in plain sight set the tone for the whole series, and Alan’s charm could explain why the faithful were jaw-droopingly inept in unearthing the Traitors in their midst, and also why they were so quick to forgive him for his treachery. There he stood — emotional, funny, no longer deadly – in a fitting end to a series that has confounded any fears a celebrity version would dilute the simple human premise — betray or be betrayed — at the heart of it. What will we all do now?
Celebrity Traitors final review: Treachery and tears make for TV perfection
Finally, we have a winner, and it’s watch-in-real-time, unstreamed, un-binged TV. It’s a rare and beautiful thing in 2025 to sit staring at the screen, knowing millions around the country are sitting on similar edges of seats, waiting to find out which of the five remaining players will emerge triumphant of the Celebrity Traitors. And what did we get? With only five left from the original 19 who entered the castle - 2 Traitors, 3 Faithful - it was all about alliances. Joe and Nick were in such cahoots working out how to oust the others, I spent the first hour wishing one of them had turned out to be a Traitor. Instead, the second best moment of the night came another way, with Nick ultimately joining the others in banishing Joe – could you hear your neighbours shouting at the screen?! That was the warm-up for the best, biggest twist of all, when Alan Carr came through as the final, solitary traitor left standing, telling the others, almost sadly, "I am, and have always been, a Traitor." Nick collapsed, David sighed, Alan cried and the sweet Faithful pair ended up comforting him in his moment of guilty triumph. It was perfect, must-watch TV. Following another effortlessly successful daytime mission that proved the celebs to be far better at physical challenges than they have ever been at unearthing Traitors, it was all about the penultimate Round Table. You know a show has fulfilled its promise of surprising us when one of the country’s premier historians is reduced to role of "useful idiot", but that’s where David Olusoga found himself – stuck in the middle as Faithfuls Joe and Nick battled to outwit Alan and Cat. All that classical training and scholarship served Olusoga not – ultimately, he just didn’t have the skills, or possibly stomach, to either betray or sniff out the treachery around him, which doesn’t really reflect that badly on him, I suppose. Instead, Joe’s strength of purpose saw Cat disposed of, but that same zeal proved his undoing at the very last Round Table, as Alan used all his powers of persuasion to unsettle others’ doubts in the big man, and clear his way to victory. So now, after five weeks and nine episodes, the ravens have left the castle, the drawbridge has been pulled up, the last of the faithful banished and the traitors unearthed. There have been some prize moments along the way: Celia Imrie’s wind proving she has a pro’s comedic timing in all things; Claire Balding’s disastrous attempt to participate in not commentate on a sporting challenge; the unprecedented nation-stopping Round Table stalemate between David and Mark Bonnar. All will be remembered, but none so powerfully as the two moments that bookended the series – both starring Alan. The first came when the third Traitor was initially unearthed, and even his fellow conspirators laughed out loud; the second when he was finally revealed to the Faithful, a moment set to become a nation-sweeping meme. The Chatty Man’s presence as a giggling assassin in plain sight set the tone for the whole series, and Alan’s charm could explain why the faithful were jaw-droopingly inept in unearthing the Traitors in their midst, and also why they were so quick to forgive him for his treachery. There he stood - emotional, funny, no longer deadly – in a fitting end to a series that has confounded any fears a celebrity version would dilute the simple human premise - betray or be betrayed - at the heart of it. What will we all do now? Read more: BBC confirms release window for The Traitors season 4 in eerie teaser These are the 10 stars who should be on a potential Celebrity Traitors season 2 Add The Celebrity Traitors to your watchlist on the Radio Times: What to Watch app – download now for daily TV recommendations, features and more. Check out more of our Entertainment coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what else is on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
Why ‘hellraisers’ like Richard Burton, Oliver Reed and Peter O’Toole will always bewitch us
This article first appeared in Radio Times magazine. As Richard Burton appears on screen in kaleidoscopic colour, dressed in full armour and atop a horse, he is applauded by the adoring masses. The narrator proclaims, “In ten short years, he has conquered the world.” As it happens, he’s talking about Burton’s character, Alexander the Great, in the eponymous movie, but the words could apply to the actor himself. It was 1956, by when the young Welshman had already embarked on an extraordinary ascent, from the mining village of Pontrhydyfen, to Oxford University, to the London stage and Hollywood. Actor Siân Phillips remembers his West End debut – “he walked on and the whole theatre went cold” – while his first Hollywood role brought him an Oscar nomination, the first of seven. His voice, his presence, his love for poetry were all among his many splendid gifts, and he in turn offered them up to us. Why then, if you say the name “Richard Burton”, does a life of drama and diamonds immediately come to mind, one spent jumping between yachts and private jets in the glare of the paparazzi lens and, of course, a double marriage to Elizabeth Taylor? Because that’s all true, too. Burton was the primus inter pares of Britain’s still beloved mid-century stars, alongside the likes of Peter O’Toole, Richard Harris, Oliver Reed and co – a group of talented actors for whom the term “hellraiser” became a shorthand, as famous for their reckless real-life behaviour as for their undoubted dramatic talents. What was the unifying element, and why do they still bewitch us? For a start, they were all preternaturally gifted. Peter O’Toole “appeared on stage like an electric light,” is how he’s remembered by Anthony Hopkins, while Richard Harris brought us the tenderest of Camelots and even MacArthur Park (a 60s anthem I didn’t even realise for years was the same Richard Harris!). And they all arrived in London during an era of still unresolved postwar trauma, class collision and hedonistic freedom, when their acting skills meant they were each given the keys to a sweetshop beyond their wildest dreams. Michael Sheen sympathetically describes the pull between Burton’s loves – stage versus screen, devoted first wife Sybil versus passionate lover Elizabeth, Wales versus the universe – asking if drink was the escape. Whatever, it must have turned all of these world-class performers into crashing bores and hell to live with. Siân Phillips remembers one drunken rage culminating in her husband O’Toole demanding she be packed and gone from the house in two hours. The saddest contributor in the new BBC2 Burton doc is the friend who first saw him on stage in 1952 and then again in the last chapter of his life – “he was performing, but he was lost”. Laurence Olivier’s tipped successor had become the man who screamed through a full glass at a late-era director, “I could have been Lear!” Burton was always fascinated by Faustus, the man who traded his soul for power, riches and the most beautiful woman in the world, but the fate of Icarus would seem just as pertinent. The ones who flew not quite as high – Albert Finney, Michael Caine – went on to enduring greatness and happy, long lives. Anthony Hopkins, now sober for 50 years, has twice played the Lear that Burton never did. Certainly, nobody, at least that we know about, behaves like this in 2025, which is no doubt a relief for all studio executives, pub landlords and stars’ loved ones. But it means, as Kenneth Branagh says, almost wistfully, “No one is going to tell stories about us in 50 years’ time.” Was it all worth it? Harris would say so: “At least you knew I was here.” The latest issue of Radio Times is out now – subscribe here. Richard Burton: Wild Genius airs at 9pm on Wednesday 12th November on BBC Two and iPlayer. Check out more of our Documentaries coverage or visit our TV Guide and Streaming Guide to find out what's on. For more TV recommendations and reviews, listen to The Radio Times Podcast.
The Celebrity Traitors final looms – but will Alan Carr and Cat Burns outwit the Faithful?
The penultimate episode delivered pure chaos – Celia Imrie betrayed over dinner, Kate Garraway banished after baring her soul, and Alan Carr cracking under pressure as Joe Marler starts to sniff out the truth.
Add The Celebrity Traitors to your watchlist To quote Claudia Winkleman, it was a rollercoaster 24 hours. The Faithful finally caught Traitor Jonathan, and then Celia Imrie was murdered in plain sight by Alan Carr quoting Shakespeare. Even this eye-catching round-up doesn’t sufficiently convey the drama producers managed to conjure up in the penultimate episode of this series, now being watched by a reported 12 million pairs of eyeballs. You have to hand it to Alan Carr, he doesn’t shy from a challenge. Having recovered disturbingly quickly from murdering his pal Paloma in week one, he was at it again last night, betraying another great pal, with a toast at the dinner table. Thus was Celia Imrie summarily dispatched, betrayed with a Judas almost-kiss by a man she "adored" but had come to suspect. As Cat Burns grinned, "Only Alan could do something like that!" Other than that, Mrs Lincoln, how was the play? With the Faithful blind to one of their own being murdered at the table, the dinner party made for quite an emotional pause in the middle of this frantic series, everyone reflecting on their time in the castle, how changed they were, how inspired they felt, what fun it had been… and finally Kate Garraway came into her own, with a moving testimony after some very hard few years. Not that it did her any good, mind you. David Olusoga, still the unknown entity within the group, said, "I didn’t expect to feel changed by it, and I do, and that is a surprise." And it was Kate who said the most pertinent thing of all at the table – that it was hard to spot Traitors, "because we’re just bedazzled" – surely the cue for all the Faithful to look up and realise the most bedazzling person of all was the Chatty Man nodding along in agreement, while preparing to cast yet another murderous spell… Suddenly, it was the morning after the night before, with the group proving once again their complete ineptitude in catching Traitors is matched only by their competence and teamwork when it comes to completing the missions. Another load of extra charity cash in the bag offered an upbeat moment before it was back to the Round Table – where, following an unprecedented ding-dong between David and Kate – that’ll teach her to start bringing opinions – the latter was banished, another Faithful down, more shocked faces. Who will win? So who or what are we left with going into next Thursday’s grand final single episode? Five people, three Faithful, two Traitors. As David pointed out, "50% of the people I’m talking to are Traitors. I can’t trust anybody." It’s intense. While Alan and Cat Burns have played a treacherous blinder up to now, two things will surely bring at least one of them down before the final credits roll. One is that Alan is clearly starting to implode – when everyone left was asked to practise saying "I am a Faithful" he couldn’t even say it. His giggly schtick just about saved him, but it was his second properly wobbly moment after the occasion he actually forgot he had a shield. Surely that was the moment his time was up? But because it’s Alan, only Joe Marler seems to remember it. They are, indeed, bedazzled. And that’s the other ominous note for the Traitors: Joe is onto them, and as we saw with his mission to despatch Jonathan 'Top Dog' Ross, the man who played 95 rugby matches and said his mission on the pitch was "just to stop people", he is the proverbial dog with a bone, and his unblinking eyes have turned to Alan and Cat. Two questions remain – he’s certain, but will he be able to convince the others? And while we're on the subject – why are he and Nick Mohammed so completely trusting of each other? Of course, they’re right to in this case, but haven’t they seen any previous series? Celia put it succinctly: "It’s a clever game, but it’s cruel." And it's at its very best when it's both. It would serve these two right, and offer up the best twist of all in a series full of delights, if, at this late stage, one of them were to be… recruited. The Celebrity Traitors concludes on Thursday 6th November at 9pm on BBC One and iPlayer.