I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous going to the Traitors: Live Experience considering I’d always struggled to follow the series. With my housemates, my facial recognition became such a point of contention during the last series that I eventually begged one of our tutors — the only person I knew who owned a printer — to produce twelve A4 photographs of the cast. I argued it was his pastoral duty to intervene. Four months later, the photos remain pinned up on our kitchen wall. The day of the Traitors Experience was filled with desperate anticipation. In the name of hard-hitting journalism, I briefly considered concealing both my identity and my friendship with my housemate, Meg, that was coming along for the ride. Spoiler alert: this failed almost immediately. The time was now to show what I was made of. Surely playing it would be easier than watching it? After being granted entry by bodyguards into a gothic terrace in the heart of Covent Garden, we were led to the Cloak and Dagger pub. The psychological warfare started instantly. Alliances were quietly forming before people had even finished their first drink. One woman told me I had a doppelgänger, then refused to show me a photo because apparently she “hadn’t had a glow up yet”. A surprisingly effective intimidation tactic. A couple from California were favourites from the beginning. They flirted with a couple of American stereotypes by pretending they’d never even seen The Traitors. Nobody believed them for a second. After the bar, we were led through a series of maze-like corridors. We must have walked down about four before it dawned on me: this was a ploy to disorientate us. Paranoia had already set in. When we reached the end of the maze, we were led