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Wednesday

Kristina Murkett

How The Traitors betrayed itself

January can only mean one thing: The Traitors is back. For those of you who haven’t been initiated into this cloaks-and-daggers drama, the premise is simple: the traitors attempt to remove players by ‘murdering’ them, while the faithfuls try to work out who the traitors are. Each night the group votes someone off after a round-table discussion. It’s real-life Cluedo, with extra high-camp theatrics – hooded robes, crossed-out portraits, handwritten messages, crocodile tears and croissants in the breakfast room – all under the watchful fringe of Claudia Winkleman. The show lives and dies on the likeability of its cast and their relationships The first two series were an unexpected success.

Harry Mount

Wealth and hedonism are a fatal combination

Why do the cool die young? I don’t mean famous, cool people like Jimi Hendrix or Jim Morrison. They are members of the 27 Club – the pop stars who died at 27. I mean the schoolboy gods of my youth, the marvellous-looking, self-assured ones, effortlessly going out with the prettiest girls. And now seven of them – friends and contemporaries from school and university – are dead by the age of 50, either by their own hand or thanks to drink or drugs. The majority of my wild contemporaries have transformed into sober professionals None of the femmes fatales I know have died. Why is it only the cool

Tuesday

Julie Burchill Julie Burchill

What happened to Corrie?

In theory, I don’t care for actors – all that pontificating about climate change while taking private jets – but in practice, I find them great fun. One of my dearest friends, a small-screen siren, loves regaling me with tales of her shockers, like an American mini-series with a huge budget but an appalling script. ‘we were being housed in fabulous hotels, dined every night on fine food and wine so we shut up and took the coin. If you agree to do a job, even if you realise halfway through that it’s a pile, do it with good grace – learn from it and move on. But sometimes you

James Innes-Smith

The death of affordable skiing

Ski season is upon us, and with it that familiar dump of status anxiety. Sliding down mountains has always been a rich man’s folly, but only a few years ago, normal people could just about afford to go if they saved hard enough. Not anymore. In parts of France, the cost of a six-day lift pass is just shy of £400. In Switzerland, a pizza can set you back forty quid. That’s just for starters. Factor in the cost of ski hire, ski wear, flights, accommodation, après-ski and mountaintop lunches, and your eyes won’t stop watering. Bring the family, and you’ll need more than a second mortgage. Flights and accommodation