Martin had become completely enraptured by The Traitors. The deception, the intrigue, the sheer human drama! He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

“It was so funny when Linda turned her head,” he thought to himself just as he was falling asleep. “And it was so funny when Linda burst into tears at breakfast,” he thought to himself the second he woke up.

All other elements of his life faded to a distant pale grey mist. News and current affairs ceased to interest him. There had been a fire somewhere in California, and the government had announced that they were going to supercharge investment in the AI sector, but Martin didn’t care. He just wanted to think about Linda some more.

“I’d be a better traitor than Linda,” he chuckled to himself over breakfast, shovelling Malties into his mouth (“Cheaper than Shreddies, basically the same” was something he was very fond of saying, often in the middle of awkward silences when he had run out of other things to say). Suddenly, a thought seized him. Here he was, sat at a breakfast table and eating breakfast, just like the contestants on The Traitors! The show was a lot like real life in that way. What if there were other ways he could recreate The Traitors in his day-to-day life?

The decision was made. Martin would become a Traitor, but in the real world. That would be much harder and braver and more impressive than doing it in the controlled environment of a carefully engineered and produced TV show. He giggled to himself. The idea was brilliant. Evil, almost. He reached for his phone and started to text his friend Brad to let him know what he was doing. Then he froze. He read back what he had written.

“Hey Brad, I’m going to be a traitor but in real life.” But no. He couldn’t send this. A good traitor wouldn’t admit to it so brazenly. Martin permitted himself a sly chuckle and held down the backspace button, then started typing again.

“Hey Brad, I’m faithful,” he wrote, then pressed Send. He burst out laughing and rocked backwards on his chair, hands clasped over his mouth as he tried to stuff the laughter back in. He lived alone, but he had to be careful the neighbours didn’t hear him and start to suspect. In this game, you had to be on your guard at all times. His hysteria was interrupted by the ping of his phone – a text from Brad.

The text read, simply, “What do you mean?” Laughter clattered forth from Martin’s gullet again.

“Oh, nothing. Don’t worry about it,” he replied. Nobody suspected him. He had gotten away with it. But this was just an electronic communication. To find out just how good a Traitor he could be, he needed to test it in the real world.

*

The queue in the post office was long and slow-moving. Martin was about eight people back, and those in front and behind of him had started to become restless. The woman in front of him turned and made a sympathetic face.

“I think I picked the wrong day to send a parcel!” she laughed. Martin laughed back. What a great thing to say. Witty, self-effacing, human. This woman was 100% faithful, no question of it. It was vital that he earned her trust. An alliance with her would command a lot of sway in the group. He decided to mirror her behaviour back at her.

“No, I picked the wrong day to send a parcel!” he replied, chuckling away in an effort to build connection. Her smile faltered a little, but then she gave a half-hearted chuckle herself and turned away. Shit. Had he blown it? Had his delivery been off somehow? He could no longer rely on her support, so it was important to start building alliances with other people in the queue. He turned round to address the man behind him, his mind racing to think of what would seem least suspicious.

He remembered how effortlessly he had pegged the previous woman as a faithful. Her choice of words had been perfect.

“I think I picked the wrong day to send a parcel!” he laughed. Behind him, he had the sensation of movement – the woman turning to look at him, perhaps, but he no longer cared about that, that bridge was burned. His focus was now on his new friend, the man in front of him, who had previously been the man behind him (funny how things change, he thought to himself).

“What’s that?” asked the man.

“I said I think I picked the wrong day to send a parcel!” he repeated. He was worried he was coming across too needy, not chummy enough. He placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, and rubbed it a little.

“What parcel?” said the man. He winced. Of course. The first woman had been carrying a parcel. That’s why her opening gambit had been so eminently believable. He, by stark and obvious contrast, was carrying nothing. He removed his hand from the man’s shoulder, worried it now looked incongruous. Instead, he allowed his arm to swing out to the nearest shelf and pick something up before swinging back into his field of vision.

“Oops, here it is!” he said, before looking at what he had picked up.

“That’s a jiffy bag,” said the man. “It’s an empty jiffy bag for posting things, they sell them here.”

“Yes, and I’m going to post it to my friend,” Martin snapped. This man was starting to annoy him, so he removed himself from the queue and stormed out of the post office, the jiffy bag still clutched rigidly in his hand. Only when he got back home did he realise he had taken it without paying – classic Traitor behaviour.

He cast himself onto the sofa and let out an almighty wail. That had been a disaster. He had failed to build trust and alliances with the faithfuls in the queue. He had let his emotions get the better of him, and then he had committed an actual crime. Suspicion was on him, without a doubt. He had only one recourse – he would have to murder the man and the woman tonight. The woman in particular was never going to get banished – she was too eminently trustworthy and authentic. The man was a harder thing to call – he had been a bit sarky for Martin’s liking, and that quality might end up rubbing up some of the other faithfuls the wrong way.

But he couldn’t take any risks. It would have to be tonight.

*

“You strike me as a man utterly without remorse,” said the judge. “The murder of two innocent people is a senseless and depraved crime, and it must be met with a sentence that matches its severity. As such, this court has no choice but to sentence you to life imprisonment.” She banged her gavel and Martin was led away to the darkest, dankest jail cell in the tallest tower in the land.

He chuckled to himself as he settled down on his bunk. “They have no idea,” he thought. “After all this time, they still all have absolutely no idea. I really was better than Linda.”

***

Right, now we’ve got that delightful short story out of the way, a quick plug for a special upcoming show! On the 28th of January, Miranda and I are bringing Eggbox back to the Pleasance Main House, where we’ll be screening a programme of amazing short comedy films from Christopher Bliss; Em Humble; That Jam; Ada Player & Bron Waugh; Kyle Jon Shephard; and Miranda Holms, Max Clendaniel and myself. We’ll also be staging live readings of brand new scripts by Miranda and me; Ayoade Bamgboye and Kathy Maniura, and they’ll be read by a cast of amazing guest actors including Nick Elleray, Christian Brighty, Alison Thea-Skot and Ellie BW. Tickets are selling fast, so book here if you’d like to come along! The last two shows have sold out, and this one’s all set to be another good one. Hope to see you there!

A Cool New Thing In Comedy – The Pleasance’s work-in-progress season kicks off today! There’s a bunch of amazing shows over the next few months, including upcoming ones from Kathy Maniura, Ada & Bron, Jin Hao Li, Rosalie Minnitt, Kate Cheka, Rob Auton, Lulu Popplewell and many more. Get on down to a few!

What’s Made Me Laugh The Most – Pretty much anything the Monster did in the final series of What We Do In The Shadows, which I finished this week. I could watch that Monster for six more series.

Book Of The Week – I’ve just started Long Island Compromise, the latest book by Taffy Brodesser-Akner, who wrote one of my favourite book I’ve read in the last couple of years, Fleishman Is In Trouble. This one’s about a wealthy family who endure a kidnapping plot, only to have the trauma of it resurface decades later. Loving it so far.

Album Of The Week – When We All Fall Asleep Where Do We Go by Billie Eilish. I’m trying to endeavour to be only 5 years behind the curve here rather than my usual 20 (got no end of stick for only getting into Arcade Fire three years ago). Anyway, this is great! I can’t stop singing “Bad Guy.” I predict huge things for this girl.

Film Of The Week – Nickel Boys, which is a grim but surprisingly heartwarming story about a friendship formed in a systemically racist 1960s reform school. It’s all filmed in POV and the critics are wetting themselves over it, saying “Nothing has ever been made that looks like this film,” which just proves they’ve never seen Peep Show, but other than that it’s really good.

That’s all for this week! As ever, let me know what you thought, and if you enjoy the newsletter enough to send it to a friend or encourage others to subscribe, I’d hugely appreciate it. Take care of yourselves until next time,

Joz xx

PS If you value the Therapy Tapes and enjoy what they do, and want to support my work and enable me to keep writing and creating, you can make a one-off donation to my Ko-Fi account, and it’s very gratefully appreciated.

PPS I found a spot on the South Bank where the bubble man must have been vaporised, or taken in the Rapture or something. Strangely moving:

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