The Absurd Theatre of KingsIf reality television is a mirror reflecting our darkest narcissism, *Taskmaster* is the funhouse mirror that reveals our most delightful ineptitude. Specifically, the 2017 special *Taskmaster: Champion of Champions* operates not merely as a "best-of" compilation, but as a high-stakes study in comedic psychology. By gathering the victors of the first five series—Josh Widdicombe, Katherine Ryan, Rob Beckett, Noel Fielding, and Bob Mortimer—the show transcends the casual panel format to become a bizarre, joyous coliseum of wit. It is a testament to the idea that when stripped of dignity and handed a vague instruction, the human spirit doesn't break; it gets weird.

Visually, the show maintains its distinct, almost Kafkaesque administrative aesthetic. The "Taskmaster House," a mundane bungalow decorated with eccentric taxidermy and velvet, serves as the neutral ground where logic goes to die. The direction is deceptively simple, using wide, static shots to emphasize the isolation of the comedians as they grapple with their assigned absurdities. This clinical framing—watching a grown man try to blow a plastic egg off a table with his nose—creates a stark contrast between the seriousness of the presentation and the lunacy of the action. It is a visual language that respects the "sport" of the task while mocking the participants.
The central dynamic, however, remains the fascinating power play between Greg Davies and Alex Horne. Davies, the towering, capricious tyrant, and Horne, the obsequious bureaucrat, enact a master-servant dialectic that anchors the chaos. In *Champion of Champions*, this dynamic shifts slightly; Davies is no longer dealing with novices, but with proven conquerors. There is a palpable tension in the studio, a sense that the inmates have returned to the asylum not to escape, but to decorate it.

The emotional core of this two-part special lies in the collision of five distinct comedic philosophies. We witness the neurotic desperation of Josh Widdicombe clashing against the gothic surrealism of Noel Fielding. Yet, it is Bob Mortimer who elevates the proceedings to high art. In a task requiring the contestants to create an "edible mask," Mortimer constructs a horrific, cheesy visage and presents it to Alex Horne while wailing, "I've sinned! I've sinned!" It is a moment of pure, unadulterated nightmare fuel that doubles as hysterical comedy. In that scene, Mortimer isn't just playing a game; he is accessing a deep, chaotic corner of the British psyche that finds humor in the grotesque.

Ultimately, *Champion of Champions* is a celebration of failure as much as success. The "Miracle" task, where contestants must perform a genuine miracle, exposes the beautiful limitations of human ingenuity. Whether it's Katherine Ryan's confident bluster or Rob Beckett's simple-minded enthusiasm, the show argues that trying and failing is infinitely more entertaining than effortless competence. In a modern media landscape often obsessed with curated perfection, *Taskmaster* remains a vital, messy sanctuary where the smartest people in the room are happy to look like the biggest fools. It is not just a game show; it is a dadaist experiment with a leaderboard, and in 2017, it crowned its most gloriously unhinged royalty.