Let’s hear it for Alan and Cat, the LGBT power in the Traitors’ tower

For decades, it’s been thought that the perfect foil to a camp gay man is an equally over-the-top straight woman. The trope was huge in the Nineties when Patsy and Edina were every homosexual’s dream date, and into the early Noughties as Carrie Bradshaw and Stanford Blatch brought their equally flighty and flamboyant energy to the Upper East Side.

But, newsflash: culture has been getting it all wrong. Because the real power couple, the duo that can command any room, solve any problem, and defeat any “great mind” with their great rapport, all while deflecting tension, bringing the vibes and generally winning at life, is a camp gay man plus a masc lesbian.

Oh, how sparks fly! This dynamic duo is one to be reckoned with, and for people like me, the calm, low-key lesbian to many a queer man’s fabulously dramatic personae, Cat Burns and Alan Carr’s blossoming friendship on Celebrity Traitors was – *chef’s kiss* – the perfect example of what can be achieved when these contrasting energies collide.

I identify as a masc-of-centre queer non-binary person, who came out as a lesbian in the late Nineties when shows such as Will and Grace portrayed us as the butt of the joke: unfashionable, uncool and with nothing to offer a gay man like uber-camp Jack. In one episode, the character declared: “I would ask you to refrain from flash photography or the lesbians may attack you.” The theme of the humourless butch gay woman sustained throughout the seasons.

Strange, considering that during the HIV and Aids epidemic in the Eighties and Nineties, it was lesbians who sat by the bedside of gay men dying from the disease and nursed them when the rest of the world abandoned them. According to some people, it’s why the ‘L’ in the LGBT acronym comes first – it’s a thank-you, a mark of respect.

And yet still, the popular idea that gay men and lesbians could never be friends prevailed. I always knew this was BS, but it’s nice to have it confirmed now, thanks to the BBC’s blockbuster reality gameshow The Traitors.

The most important friendships throughout my life have all been with queer guys. Like Cat and Alan in the Traitors turret, I’ve had a single gay boy bestie at school, college and university and honestly, we might not have been going round “murdering” Faithfuls, but we were a force to be reckoned with – and if looks could kill, we slayed. We protected each other from bullies, hosted the best parties, had a shared humour no one else could compete with, all while connecting in a deep and meaningful way.

When I presented a podcast about LGBT parenting, I knew I needed a camp gay man to be my co-host. I found that happy rhythm with a man named Stu Oakley, who I went on to write two books with, bringing a serious but chill lez vibe and him, upping the drama and squealing in gay at any opportunity. He lifted me, and I grounded him. It worked (we won the Great British Podcast Awards) and went on to be firm friends.

See, there’s something special about the intersection between camp gay men and masc lesbians or non-binary folk. We’re both equally “other’ – but there’s a fundamental difference baked into our queerness, and it’s this interplay of distance and intimacy that makes the relationship so compelling.

It’s bizarre to me that the flighty queen and their “wingperson” hasn’t been more broadly explored as an archetype in culture. And now we have the TV equivalent with Alan and Cat, who complement each other perfectly. A loud extrovert who is always on, effusive, over the top, tactile and rarely serious needs the steady, anchoring energy of a gentle introvert who doesn’t get caught up in the drama of a moment but sees the bigger picture and says she “struggles with hugs at the best of times” (I feel so seen). They are yin and yang and as was evident on the show, they fill each other’s gaps.

I can only hope that TV commissioners see the beauty in this queer friendship for our age, and that the small screen becomes less Ant and Dec, and more Cat and Alan.