Let me be very clear about something. I do not watch American Survivor. I tried once. I lasted eleven minutes. The accent was wrong, the drama was insufficient, and nobody was wearing a properly ironed shirt to tribal council.

I watch Australian Survivor. Exclusively. Obsessively. With the kind of devotion usually reserved for religion or a very specific type of sourdough starter.

Here's why. Australians understand that betrayal is a performing art. Back-stabbing is a craft. And it is best delivered with a crisp accent, direct eye contact, and the serene expression of someone who has absolutely no idea what you're talking about and also just voted you out unanimously. It's beautiful. It's barbaric. It's television.

So. We are halfway through Australian Survivor: Redemption 2026. Twenty-four people went to Samoa with dreams of $500,000 and the title of Sole Survivor. Several of them have already been humbled by the jungle, by their own alliances, and — in at least one memorable case — by a piece of flint.

Let's talk about it.

The Returning Players — A Study in How Not To Learn From Your Mistakes

This season brought back four legends who have played this game before, studied it, lived it, and apparently retained absolutely nothing useful from the experience.

Harry "Dirty Harry" Hills — Three Seasons. Zero Lessons.

Three times. The man played this game three times. He built his entire reputation on being unpredictable, unreadable, and untouchable. A chaos artist. A master of the unexpected.

He arrived at Redemption and immediately told everyone his entire strategy. Every alliance. Every plan. Every move. In detail. Did he think nobody had a television? Did he assume Samoa had blocked all streaming services? Did he suffer some kind of strategic amnesia between seasons that a doctor should probably look into?

His exit was a masterpiece of self-destruction. He stole the tribe's flint as leverage. He handed it to Jackson for safekeeping. Jackson pulled it out of his pocket at tribal council and handed it straight to Simon without blinking.

We will miss him. He was the most entertaining disaster this season produced and he produced several.

Brooke — Paranoid, Scrambling, and Running a One-Woman Idol Hunting Operation

Brooke has been on this show three times. You would think that by the third visit to Samoa she might have developed something beyond find idol, worry about idol, play idol unnecessarily, repeat.

She played her idol when she didn't need to. She's been looking for another one ever since. She is her own alliance, her own threat assessment team, and her own worst enemy — all at once. She is okay. Just okay. Brooke, darling. Sit down. Have some coconut. The idol will still be there tomorrow. Possibly.

Simon — The Testosterone Has the Floor

Simon is back for his third season. His third! He spent most of the pre-merge doing not very much while nodding agreeably at people who were actively plotting his elimination. A simple man operating on a frequency where instinct tends to override strategy and testosterone occasionally hijacks the controls entirely.

And then — shock of shocks — Simon made a move. He flipped his alliance and blindsided Aisha in what was genuinely a decent play. That's it. That's the move. His journey is now complete. Someone please vote him out immediately before he gets any ideas about doing something else and ruins everything.

Simon, we say this with love: your arc is complete. Take a bow and go home.

Mark — My Sweet, Oblivious Favourite

Oh, Mark.

Mark came back to Samoa with the best intentions, the warmest heart, and the strategic instincts of a golden retriever who simply cannot conceive of the possibility that the hand currently feeding him is also writing his name on a piece of parchment. He trusted everyone. He aligned with everyone. He got blindsided and then went straight back to the same alliance that had just betrayed him.

And then Faith — Faith of all people — sat down with him and calmly explained she intended to keep him in the game until he could make the jury. Not the end. Not the final two. The jury. She said this out loud. To his face. And expected this to be acceptable.

MARK. HONEY.

But then — glorious, long-awaited then — something clicked. He pulled Caleb and Richard aside. Cooked up Operation Wave. Blindsided Faith before the merge in the biggest play of the pre-season.

The Fallen — A Brief Memorial Service

Tez — the purest soul in the jungle. A superfan who memorised every season and then proceeded to say everything out loud at tribal council directly in front of the people he was plotting against. He left calling it "iconic." He wasn't wrong. We miss him terribly. He was the light of this miserable jungle and the game is darker without him.

Faith — self-proclaimed most intelligent player. Walked in with a business plan and the unshakeable confidence of someone who has never once considered the possibility of being wrong about anything. Told Mark to his face she'd only take him to the jury — not the end — celebrated her own brilliance so loudly it could be heard from the other tribe, and was completely blindsided when he turned on her. The name really did speak for itself. Just not in the direction she expected.

Aisha — sent home with someone else's idol in her pocket. Not even her own idol. Someone else's. There should be a trophy for that.

Harry — see above. The legend. The disaster. The man who handed Jackson the flint. Never forget.

Who's Still Standing — Ava's Completely Unfiltered Assessment

Jackson — absolutely love him. The 70s haircut. The quiet straight-shooter energy. The man who pulled the flint out of his pocket mid-tribal without so much as a dramatic pause. A man of action and very few words making excellent decisions while looking like he wandered in from a 1975 yearbook photo. More of him. More.

Lottie — watch her. Watch her carefully. She's quiet, she's watching, she's filing everything away, and she's going to do something devastating with it when the time comes. Lottie is the most dangerous player left in this game and everyone is too distracted by Keeley's announcements to notice. Do not sleep on Lottie.

Keeley — self-proclaimed mastermind currently running around telling everyone she's running the show. Named her alliance "Head Office." Head Office. Threatened to wear eliminated players' clothes at future challenges. Is giggling her way through the post-merge convinced she's untouchable. Keeley, the louder you announce you're in charge, the bigger the target. She needs to go. Immediately. Before she names another alliance.

Richard — has opinions. Has strategy. Is whispering both to people who smile and do something else entirely. The man is sitting on something useful but he needs to actually use it before the merge eats him alive.

Caleb — a truck driver with a rat's tail, a pet python at home, and absolutely zero filter between his brain and his mouth. He says everything he thinks. Everything. At tribal, at camp, mid-challenge — out loud, immediately, to whoever is closest, whether it helps or destroys his own game. Channel 10 called him a "loveable larrikin." His tribemates called him exhausting. Both are correct. He fought his way back from Redemption Beach in the rain on a seesaw, which is either impressive or proof that Caleb simply doesn't register discomfort like normal humans do. We need him. Every season needs a Caleb. He is the chaos ingredient that makes the stew interesting. He is also genuinely getting on everyone's last nerve. Including ours.

Sally — Sally appears to have occasionally forgotten she was on a television show. Sally is somehow still here. We are all equally surprised, Sally included.

Ben — a physical specimen who will win every challenge until the one that matters and then get blindsided before he can blink. We've seen this story. We know how it ends.

Blanche — did cartwheels when her tribe won immunity. Absolute icon. We don't know what her game is. We don't care. Keep doing cartwheels, Blanche.

Loz — allegedly the Beauty in an alliance called Beauty and the Beasts. Loz is still here. That's all we have.

Cameron — is also still here. Yes. Confirmed.

Where We Stand — The Merge Is Here

We are entering the merge. Redemption Beach has been sending people back into the game. Caleb fought his way back in on a seesaw in the rain while looking more composed than half the people who never left.

Mark is finally playing. Lottie is watching. Keeley thinks she's in charge which means she isn't. Simon had his moment and should now quietly exit stage left. Jackson is out here making sensible decisions with a haircut from another decade.

The game is wide open and it is glorious.