How Claudia Winkleman ​became TV’s ​perfect ‘bad’ gameshow host

The Celebrity Traitors has returned and, as ever, its pleasures are manifold: the coming together of very different types of famous people (what other show gives you the chance to see mathematician Hannah Fry chatting with Jerry Hall); the now obligatory series-upending first-episode twist; Richard E Grant careering around trying to break the game; Ross Kemp, eyes wide with terror, convinced that anyone who touches him, talks to him or blows on him is his killer.

There’s so much to enjoy in fact, that you almost overlook the heavy-fringed host at the show’s centre. By this point Claudia Winkleman feels undeniably core to the series, in both its Celebrity and civilian guises – as much a part of the furniture as that mustard armchair where faithfuls learn that they have been murdered. So much so, in fact, that it feels jarring – just plain wrong – when you watch one of the international variants of the Traitors and see someone else attempting to play the part of the pantomimish master or mistress of ceremonies; Alan Cumming, Siobhan McSweeney, or any of the other non-Claudias. They all make a decent fist of it, but none of them manage it quite like her.

It was a bit of a punt to cast Winkleman in the role, really. She was certainly famous and likable enough, but daffy too: you probably wouldn’t have envisioned her as the Traitors’ stern-faced, slightly sadistic host– goth-tinged haircut aside. She actually turned the role down originally, not willing to trudge up to the Highlands for filming while her daughter was doing GCSEs, and only relented after binging the original Dutch version of the show, De Verraders. But once installed she made the role her own. She does a lot with not that much screen time: for large chunks of the show she’s not present at all, but when she does rock up, she’s able to shift the entire mood. Faithfuls and Traitors alike fall into terrified silence when she enters.

In her Traitors role, Winkleman is continuing a peculiar TV tradition: that of the ‘bad’ gameshow host. Usually the role of the host is a supportive one, encouraging contestants when they’re weighing up a key question, consoling them when they inevitably get it wrong. Think of Alexander Armstrong doing his crumpled “there there” face as someone spectacularly botches the final round of Pointless. The ‘bad’ gameshow host upends all that, transforming the role from confidant to tormentor.

It’s a role that has existed in some form for decades – Des O’Connor definitely had a bit of the devil in him on Take Your Pick. But it came into its own in the 90s and 00s with the twin terrors of Jeremy Paxman, on University Challenge, and Anne Robinson (pictured above), on the Weakest Link, two pitiless interrogators (it’s not coincidental that both were once journalists, as was Winkleman) with the power to turn contestants to jelly with just a stern look. If Paxman’s role as ‘bad’ host was largely the product of him being a bit of a grump (in a way that his avuncular predecessor Bamber Gascoigne never was), Robinson’s performance was baked into the show from its outset and proved a sensation. People would tune in primarily to see her eviscerate members of the public (and future Guardian employees), her catchphrase was repeated in offices and school playgrounds across the country, and the show’s success (moving from daytime to primetime) would see Robinson afforded a chance to crack America – though they didn’t quite appreciate her schoolmistress shtick in the same way.

There’s definitely a hint of the Robinson in Winkleman’s Traitors performance, but the show lets her take the role of the ‘bad’ host to a new level. Where Paxman and Robinson were merely savaging contestants for incorrect answers, Winkleman is actively meddling with the mechanics of the game itself, introducing nefarious twists and tweaks to its format (on behalf of its producers of course), and conspiring with the show’s titular villains. All that while still having time to deliver a Robinson-style tongue-lashing: her post-round table scoldings are enough to make you the viewer feel a degree of contact shame, so lord knows how the actual people receiving them are feeling.

Winkleman’s Traitors turn has been nothing short of a sensation, arguably launching her to the very top tier of celebrity in the UK. But it comes with a hint of risk attached: once you’ve put on the mask of ‘bad’ host, is it possible to take it off again? Perhaps part of the failure of her talkshow this year – a strange, stilted programme that has already been consigned to the cancellation dustbin – was that she just didn’t look quite right as a friendly chat-facilitator. Shouldn’t she be forcing Lisa Kudrow or James McAvoy to climb into a coffin or run through a haunted wood, rather than just, you know, talking to them?

Still, being typecast as the host of the biggest, most beloved show on British TV probably isn’t a bad place to be, all things considered. This series of the Celebrity Traitors will be the most viewed and nattered-about TV show this year, and then the civvy version will return to attract similar numbers of eyeballs in January. And Winkleman will be right there in the middle of it, talking to owls, being held aloft by shirtless hunks, and hurling photographs of deceased faithfuls to the floor with a smile. Long may she reign.

Our weekly look at how the Guardian first covered popular culture’s biggest names

Everyone’s favourite Icelandic eccentric made her first appearance in the Guardian in 1988, when her band the Sugarcubes – at the time the most successful independent group since The Smiths – were interviewed ahead of a tour. Björk had some interesting observations about her home country: “It has the second highest standard of living in Europe and the most sugar eaten per head of the population,” she told interviewer Bruce Dessau. Still she wasn’t a fan of the social pressures put on young people in Iceland. “It is considered normal to be married at 16, have a baby at 17 and a flat, a car, a TV and an iron a year later. If you don’t own a leather sofa you are considered lazy.”

Björk’s own work ethic is nothing to be sniffed at. After three albums with the Sugarcubes, she went solo in 1993, and has since released 10 albums, sold 40m records worldwide, and won five Brit awards and Best Actress at the Cannes film festival – though it remains unclear whether she owns a leather sofa.

To dig further into the archive and support the Guardian, sign up for Digital plus and get access to our full 200-year archive.

Last week we asked for nominations for unintentionally funny films. We had some great responses. Here are but a few, including a couple of real curveballs:

“When the first Lord of the Rings film came out, my partner went to see it with a friend. Generally they thought it was a good adaptation but they pointed out a few of the funny flaws: Sam and Frodo’s rather-too-close relationship; the elves having gorgeously long flowing hair that looked like they just stepped out of a salon; Frodo having two expressions – startled and surprised, etc. Consequently, when I did get to go and see the film, instead of immersing myself in Peter Jackson’s magnificent creation, I ended up giggling all the way through and couldn’t take it seriously.” – Rob Kielty

“Plan 9 From Outer Space (1959) is hilarious in its excruciating badness. A shining example of film-maker Ed Wood’s glorious incompetence, it gallumphs from one gobsmacking scene to the next, never letting story structure, effective cinematography, rational character development, or believable special effects (i.e. wobbly pie plates on visible strings as flying saucers) stand in the way of Wood’s artistic [aspirations]. The glorious Plan 9 endures as a shining testament to delusional self-belief over sanity.” – Kate O’Hara

“I remember seeing Ghost all those years ago and there was that poignant moment when Whoopi Goldberg’s character channels Patrick Swayze to dance with Demi Moore. It was all very moving. Then someone in the audience shouted out “I suppose a shag is out of the question?” and we all erupted with laughter. That scene would never be the same again.” – Simon Soukal

“I watched the first Alien movie at an almost empty cinema, daytime, on my own, back in the late 70s when the film was released. The usher forewarned me and even offered me some smelling salts, or suchlike, before going in. Of course I found the film horrific, especially the alien reveal when it burst out of John Hurt’s stomach. So I was astonished when going back to uni, to hear my Irish flatmate, who had also watched Alien at the cinema during the hols, impersonate the miniature monster and add that the whole Irish audience had laughed loudly during that particular sequence. It certainly put things into perspective and I’ve never let a horror film frighten me since then.” – Jane Cooper

Suggest a Traitors twist for the new series. What about a Faithful getting to murder a fellow contestant on the sly (while remaining a Faithful)? That might shake things up! Let me know your suggestion by replying to this email or contacting me via gwilym.mumford@theguardian.com.