It was a finale that could only have ended in chaos, laughter, and more than a few tears. On November 6, 2025, the first-ever series of Celebrity Traitors drew to a close on BBC One, crowning comedian Alan Carr as its inaugural champion in a twist that left viewers, contestants, and even Carr himself reeling. After nine episodes of betrayals, blunders, and some truly memorable outfits, Carr—draped in a white suit with gold sequins—emerged as the last Traitor standing, taking home £87,500 for his chosen charity, Neuroblastoma UK.
The final episode, stretched to a special 70-minute slot, was a whirlwind of emotion and spectacle. As reported by The Guardian, the remaining five contestants—Traitors Cat Burns and Alan Carr, and Faithfuls Joe Marler, Nick Mohammed, and David Olusoga—entered the last round of the game with nerves frayed and suspicions running high. The show, a celebrity spin on the original civilian format, had already set itself apart with its blend of TV intellectuals, comedians, and cultural figures, all vying not for personal gain but to win a pot of money for charity. Still, as the finale proved, celebrity status didn’t guarantee sharper instincts or better gameplay.
“I made some friends in here; I’m starting to feel quite sad murdering them,” Cat Burns confessed in the opening moments, a line that set the tone for a night of unexpected honesty and humor. Yet, despite the camaraderie, alliances were fragile. The final challenge took the group aboard the so-called Traitors Express, a steam train where they had to solve puzzles—though, as Alan Carr quipped, “There was me thinking it was going to be like the Orient Express, but it’s more like Speed.” The task, filled with frantic searching and the occasional comic mishap (including Joe Marler being hit on the head three times by the lid of a heavy wooden box), was all in pursuit of boosting the final prize fund for charity.
Yet, the tension of the civilian series, where real money is at stake for the players themselves, was noticeably absent. As The Guardian noted, the celebrity version’s charitable focus, while noble, somewhat dulled the competitive edge that makes the original so compelling. “The fact that these people are dripping with, if not money, then at least cultural capital, completely muddies the organising principle of the civilian series,” the publication observed, suggesting the stakes felt lower even as the drama ramped up.
Still, for fans of the franchise, the celebrity edition offered a fresh perspective. Contestants couldn’t hide behind obscure jobs or fake personas—everyone knew who they were, at least on the surface. But as the series unfolded, it became clear that familiarity didn’t breed insight. “Hasn’t it been curious to see contestants unable to hide behind fake personas or less suspicious jobs, as is typical in the regular series?” mused The Guardian. The Faithfuls, in particular, struggled to sniff out the Traitors among them, often falling victim to elaborate bluffs or, more often, their own misjudgments.
As the game narrowed, the roundtable became a battleground of nerves and second-guessing. Joe Marler, ever the strategist, attempted to outwit the Traitors with a fake alliance, but his gambit only led to his own downfall. “It hurts to be stabbed in the back last minute like that,” Marler admitted after being banished, a sentiment echoed by many viewers who saw his exit as a classic case of good gameplay punished at the wrong moment. On the Uncloaked podcast, Marler later joked that if he ever texts Nick Mohammed, he calls him Judas—“Brutal (but deserved),” as one commentator put it.
The final three—Carr, Olusoga, and Mohammed—stood together, each convinced of the others’ innocence. In a moment that would become instant TV lore, all three voted to end the game, unwittingly handing victory to Carr, the last remaining Traitor. The reveal was a masterstroke of suspense. Carr, overwhelmed by emotion, confessed, “It’s been tearing me apart, I’m so sorry. I’m an awful human being.” His fellow finalists, quick to comfort him, replied, “You did brilliantly. It’s all right.” According to BBC News, social media erupted in the aftermath, with fans dubbing Carr “the most awful traitor ever being the best traitor ever” and calling the finale “the TV moment of the year.”
Carr’s transformation from comic relief to master deceiver was perhaps the series’ most surprising arc. “The idea of Alan, of all people, pulling off a masterclass in deception felt about as likely as him keeping a straight face through one of his own punchlines,” noted entertainment reporter Indigo Stafford. His performance left even the most astute contestants fooled. “Alan could have come down to breakfast in a green cloak and I still wouldn’t have thought he was a traitor. I was too busy laughing,” Olusoga admitted on the Uncloaked podcast. Paloma Faith, another contestant, summed it up: “Most people didn’t vote for [Carr] because, how can you vote for someone who is so loveable?”
There were lighter moments, too. The finale’s wardrobe choices became a talking point—Carr’s checked maroon suit and bejewelled white outfit were upstaged only by Mohammed’s maroon velvet tuxedo. The episode itself, soundtracked by the emotional strains of Ludovico Einaudi and peppered with Carr’s trademark quips, felt more like a celebration than a showdown.
Yet, for all the laughter, the series didn’t shy away from highlighting the emotional toll of betrayal, even in a game. “Let’s face it, I started this game a bit of a nervous wreck. I’ve thrown some really good friends under the bus, I’ve murdered national treasures in plain sight. I’m clearly a better liar and traitor than I thought I was,” Carr reflected. After the confetti settled and the fireworks exploded, he closed the night with a Shakespearean flourish: “Parting is such sweet sorrow.”
Looking back, the first season of Celebrity Traitors was an experiment in mixing fame with subterfuge, and the result was a heady cocktail of humor, heartbreak, and genuine surprise. As viewers and contestants alike learned, knowing someone’s public persona is no guarantee of understanding their private strategies. With the baton soon to be passed to a new cast, fans are left to wonder: will the next batch of celebrities play it harder, faster, and smarter—or will they, too, fall victim to the game’s most charming deceivers?
