Whenever I watch an episode of The Traitors, the round table section starts and I think: “seems a crying shame they never have séances in this show…”. The castle, the set, the choreography – it’s crying out for a visit to another realm. The stumbling block is that séances require a medium to lead them, so for that reason the BBC must hurl money at Yvette Fielding to appear in 2026. Though I suspect she’s affordable: I interviewed the Queen of Paranormal last year in her suitably creepy home, where she hosts séances after dessert, and feel you’d have her at “turret”.
Camp, gothic and open-minded, Fielding would be an ideal player generally, but she’d come into her own at the round table, where she could tell everyone to shut up, stop bickering, join hands, close their eyes and then watch as she slips into a rictus trance to commune with the spirits, channelling anyone and everyone beyond the grave – Rasputin, Princess Diana, Captain Tom, Pocahontas – to get their theories. Now that’s good TV.
The other glaring hole in the format, as it stands, is the BBC’s tiresome reliance on only casting humans. My first thought to smash this was Paul the Octopus, the shrewd cephalopod who predicted those football results years ago, but I have since discovered he’s dead – though that doesn’t rule him out entirely, if Fielding’s around. Instead let’s go for Bubbles, Michael Jackson’s chimpanzee, who is somehow still living or, if he’s unaffordable, then Ned, Monty Don’s faithful but obstinate golden retriever, who must be the least scrutable figure on primetime – after Tess Daly, of course. There: ghosts and dogs. That ought to do it.
Adele
