Since the release of the breakthrough documentary Catfish in 2010 and subsequent US TV series, catfishing has been extremely well-represented and understood in pop culture. It gave a name to a trend that was already endemic on MSN Messenger and prehistoric Facebook; as soon as we had a noun – catfish – and a verb – ‘to catfish’ – people could easily talk about these novel, digital experiences. Some catfish profiles were created for banal, silly reasons (when I was about 12, my friends and I dressed in fancy dress and created 10 different ‘Hot Or Not’ profiles for totally fictitious village locals because we were bored). Others, however, were at the other extreme, tragic stories of people manipulated into falling in love with non-existent people online. So, when I was asked to host the UK version of the show in 2020, I felt I had a very good idea of what I was going to experience. I expected catfishes who were infatuated with certain individuals and created the perfect conditions to entrap them; scorned exes making online profiles to humiliate or prove a point to somebody they once loved; opportunists preying on people’s money. Yet shooting the second series of the show, I’ve noticed a new trend. Rather than being purely about deceit, catfishing has become a functional tool in how we navigate the internet. Whether it’s borrowing their friend’s pictures and creating an online profile to get a sense of what it would be like to be in a relationship with somebody or using a fake person to trick a loved one into leaving a toxic relationship, more and more individuals are seeing these lies as a necessary evil. Beyond the show and into more mundane contexts, people I’ve spoken to regularly assume fake identities. This could be to access Facebook groups they’re blocked from, or to snoop on dating apps. To keep an eye on a distant friend or brother-in-law. Consider the ‘Wagatha Christie’ showdown between Coleen Rooney and Rebekah Vardy. When it went viral, we didn’t even question Rooney’s basic ethics in creating an online trap to deceive her friend. It served a purpose, and we loved it. The ends justified the means. All this convinces me that we’re becoming much more comfortable with dishonesty. I guess it makes sense that a new set of rules around identity is developing, especially among under-30s. This is a generation who have grown up online using emojis to convey their emotions, living vicariously through idealised characters in gaming, and even transforming their own selfies into avatars with the help of filters. It sounds odd – but who are we to judge? As society continues to develop at speed, we’re going to need new laws, protocols, and codes of ethics that reflect its ever-changing face. This isn’t the technicolour vision of the internet showcased in sickly Palo Alto product launches, nor a straightforward black-or-white, ‘Ten Commandments’ society. Instead, things in our evolving reality seem to look a little more complex. A little greyer. And a lot fishier.