Claudia Winkleman is leaving Strictly for dead – and I don’t blame her

OK, let’s address the elephant in the ballroom: Strictly’s days are numbered.

It’s boring and too bloody long! The average film in the cinema is 90 minutes, but we’re expected to sit through 2 hours of it!

Of course, it’s not official, but with Tess and Claudia already jumping ship and murmurs of disquiet among the judges, it wouldn’t surprise me if the BBC put out a statement in the coming weeks announcing that Daly and Winkleman would not be replaced and the current series of Strictly Come Dancing will be the last.

After all, who WOULD replace them? Zoe Ball? La Voix? AI Brucey?

The demise of Strictly Come Dancing gives me no pleasure, but frankly, someone should have pulled the plug on a tired, wheezing format a good few series ago.

Propped up by dry ice, witless judge ‘banter’ and those mind-numbingly dull pre-dance segments where whatshisname from Gladiators returns to their secondary school and gives a hall full of bored teens an unwanted ‘sneak preview’ of their upcoming rumba.

Strictly’s format hasn’t meaningfully changed since 2004, unless you count adding yet another ‘the judges are pretending to argue’ moment or the Pantone tweak of Claudia’s face.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, we get it. Someone does a cha cha cha. Someone cries. Someone’s nan in Stoke demands they get more votes.

And, without fail, at least one contestant uses the formulaic line: I’ve played for England at Wembley/I played at Live Aid/I’ve served in two Gulf wars, etc, but it’s not as nerve wracking as The Dance-Off.

Meanwhile, the BBC’s new golden child is no longer sequin-based punishment cardio but cloaks, paranoia and exquisitely televised betrayal.

The Traitors hasn’t just overshadowed Strictly — it’s Charlestoning on its grave. If Strictly is the safe, stale option your nan watches with a microwave lasagne and a glass of Jacob’s Creek, The Traitors is the visceral, addictive, prestige-reality chaos we’ve all been waiting for.

And Auntie Beeb knows it. You can almost hear the cheques being signed in Broadcasting House. The money they’ve chucked at Celebrity Traitors would make a Netflix executive do a double-take.

Every frame screams, ‘this is our new ratings cash cow.’

The castle footage and searing score alone makes Game of Thrones look like Waterloo Road!

And the cast? Well, gone are the days of booking the soap character who was killed off a decade ago or the Love Islander from the series no one remembers.

The Celebrity Traitors lineup was absolutely stacked — genuinely recognisable people the BBC actually wants us to see, instead of people they’re quietly hoping we won’t have to Google.

Compared to Strictly, The Celeb Traitors has delivered more tension, memes and cultural hysteria in a single breakfast scene than Strictly manages in an entire results show.

Kate Garraway stating the bleedin’ obvious! Alan Carr only just keeping a straight face, Claudia Winkleman dressed like a haunted Victorian art critic!

This is television that knows what it’s doing. Not to mention Celia Imrie’s brief time practising for her one-woman oompah band!

We’re now 20-something years into the experiment that is reality TV — from the mindless talent-vacuum of Big Brother, to the bug-munching bushtucker bell-endery of I’m A Celeb, through countless shows featuring influencers whose hobbies include ‘vibing’ and ‘sponsored content.’

After decades of trying to find the magic formula, The Traitors has hit the bullseye.

It’s the sweet spot: it’s a murder mystery, it’s pantomime, it’s a social experiment, it’s a group therapy session led by a Gothic headmistress.

How can any other reality TV game show ever match the tension and drama of the moment Joe Marler finds out his BFF Nick Mohammed has betrayed him? Standing there open-mouthed like he’s just opened the door to someone holding the corpse of his cat.

Which raises the inevitable question: can the BBC actually repeat the success of the first Celebrity season?

Of course, they bloody can! Success in TV is brutally simple — throw money like you’re laundering it, and the talent will come.

Any would-be celebrity Traitor would find it impossible to turn down the opportunity to be part of the cultural zeitgeist and the chance to ponce about with other celebrities whilst playing a fun game of treachery in a castle lit like a funeral.

They’ll queue around the block.

Because, crucially, it’s not just good for their careers or their bank accounts — it looks really fun.

Genuinely fun. Not ‘learning an American smooth while your pro partner barks at you for letting your frame droop’ fun, but actual ‘I get to lie, manipulate, scheme and emotionally unravel on television while Claudia Winkleman stares into my soul’ fun.

So yes, Strictly may or may not stumble on, the televisual equivalent of a beloved family pet that should probably be gently retired. But the national obsession has already shifted. We crave drama, deception, psychological warfare and extremely intense knitwear.

At this rate, don’t be surprised if Tess Daly turns up as a contestant on Celebrity Traitors series two.

An earlier version of this story was published on November 11, 2025.

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