The thing about British television is that it usually loves a box. We like our detectives in their rainy coastal towns, our doctors in their chaotic A&E wards, and our period dramas set in manor houses where everyone speaks in perfectly modulated tones. But then you have The Street. It didn’t really fit into those boxes when it first aired on BBC One back in 2006, and honestly, looking back at it now, it still feels like a bit of a miracle that something this raw and unpolished got made for a prime-time audience. It wasn’t just a show; it was a geography of the human soul, mapped out across a single, unremarkable road in Manchester.
Jimmy McGovern is the name behind it, and if you know his work—think Cracker, The Lakes, or the more recent Time—you know he doesn't do "easy." He does guilt. He does redemption. He does the kind of crushing social pressure that makes good people do absolutely terrible things.
What People Get Wrong About The Street
There is a common misconception that The Street was just a high-brow version of a soap opera. People see "terrace houses in the North" and immediately think Coronation Street but with more swearing. That is a massive disservice. While soaps rely on the comfort of familiarity—characters you’ve known for forty years doing the same things—McGovern’s anthology series was built on the shock of the new. Each episode was a self-contained film. One week you’re watching a taxi driver deal with a moral vacuum, the next you’re seeing a woman struggle with the fallout of an affair, or a soldier returning from war with a body and mind that no longer fit into his old life.
It was relentless. It was also, weirdly, quite funny in that dark, "if I don't laugh I'll jump off a bridge" kind of way that only Northern writers seem to nail perfectly.
The brilliance of the format was the "crossover." You’d see a character who was the lead in episode one appearing as a background extra in episode three, buying a pint or walking their dog. It reminded you that everyone has a secret history. Your neighbor isn't just "the guy at number 42." He’s a person with a crumbling marriage, or a hidden debt, or a dream he’s too scared to mention.
The Cast That Made It Possible
If you look at the IMDB page for The Street now, it looks like a "Who’s Who" of British acting royalty before they all got famous or went to Hollywood. We are talking about heavyweights. Jim Broadbent, Timothy Spall, Bob Hoskins, Ruth Wilson, Olivia Colman, and Stephen Graham.
Bob Hoskins, specifically, in the third series, was a revelation. He played a publican standing up to a local thug, and the tension was so thick you could practically taste the stale beer and fear through the screen. There was no CGI. No explosions. Just two men in a pub, one refusing to back down, and the psychological toll that takes on a community.
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Stephen Graham, who is basically the king of British grit these days, gave one of those performances that stays in your marrow. He has this ability to play "volatile" better than anyone else alive. In The Street, he wasn't just a character; he was a nerve ending.
Why the Writing Felt So Dangerous
McGovern has always been obsessed with the idea of the "moral crossroads." He doesn't care about villains who are evil for the sake of it. He cares about the moment a "good" person decides to tell a lie to save their skin, and how that lie grows until it chokes them.
Take the episode with Timothy Spall. He plays a man whose life is defined by his job as a taxi driver. He’s a decent man. But he gets caught in a cycle of circumstance and choice that feels like a slow-motion car crash. You want to reach into the TV and shake him, but you also realize that, under the right (or wrong) pressure, you might do exactly what he did. That’s the "McGovern Magic." He makes you complicit.
The dialogue wasn't "written" in the traditional sense; it felt overheard. It was messy. People interrupted each other. They used slang. They didn't always have the right words for their feelings, so they lashed out instead.
A Product of Its Time (and Ours)
The series ran for three seasons, ending in 2009. It won the BAFTA for Best Drama Series twice. It won International Emmys. But then it just... stopped.
There’s a reason we don't see shows like The Street as often on mainstream channels anymore. Television has become more "global." Networks want shows that can be easily exported, which usually means glossier production values and less specific cultural grit. The Street was unapologetically Mancunian. It was damp. It was grey. It was beautiful.
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But if you watch it today, it hasn’t aged a day in terms of its emotional impact. The clothes might look a bit mid-2000s, and the phones are definitely bricks, but the themes of debt, infidelity, loneliness, and the struggle to be a "good person" in a world that doesn't always reward goodness? Those are eternal.
It’s actually quite jarring to compare it to modern "prestige" TV. Today, everything feels so curated. In The Street, the houses looked like people actually lived in them. The carpets were slightly worn. The lighting was often harsh and unforgiving. It felt like reality, just slightly condensed for the sake of drama.
The Legacy of the Anthology Format
Most people think Black Mirror popularized the anthology format for the modern era, but The Street was doing the heavy lifting years before. It proved that audiences have the attention span for new characters every week, provided the emotional stakes are high enough.
It also gave a platform to directors like David Blair and writers who were willing to dig into the dirt of everyday life. It wasn't interested in the 1%. It was interested in the people who kept the 1%'s world running—the cleaners, the drivers, the shop workers.
The Realistic Portrayal of Class
Class in British TV is often handled with a heavy hand. It’s either "misery porn" or "cheeky cockney chappies." The Street avoided both. It showed the working class as intellectually complex, morally conflicted, and fiercely protective of their dignity.
There was a specific episode involving a school teacher and a relationship with a pupil—a topic that usually results in sensationalist tabloid-style writing. In McGovern's hands, it was a nuanced, devastating look at how boundaries blur and lives are ruined, not by monsters, but by humans making catastrophic errors in judgment. It didn't give you the "correct" way to feel. It just showed you the wreckage and left you to sit with it.
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How to Watch and What to Look For
If you are going back to watch The Street for the first time, or if you're doing a rewatch because modern TV feels a bit too "clean," there are a few things to keep an eye on.
- Notice the Background: Watch the people in the edges of the frame. Many of them become the protagonists of the next episode. It's a masterclass in world-building without using a narrator or clunky exposition.
- The Soundtrack: It’s sparse. The show relies on silence and ambient noise—the sound of a kettle, a distant siren, a door slamming. It builds a sense of claustrophobia that a swelling orchestral score would have ruined.
- The Casting: Pay attention to the smaller roles. You’ll spot actors who are now the leads in major Netflix or HBO shows. This was their training ground.
- The Ending of Episodes: McGovern rarely gives you a "happily ever after." Usually, the characters are just... continuing. They’ve survived the crisis, but they still have to live on the street. The credits roll, and you're left wondering what happens on Tuesday morning when they have to go back to work.
Real Actions for the British Drama Fan
If you want to dive deeper into this style of storytelling, you shouldn't stop at The Street. You need to follow the thread of Jimmy McGovern's career. Start with Accused, which followed a similar anthology format but centered around the courtroom. Then, move into his more recent work like Broken or Time.
For those interested in the craft of screenwriting, studying The Street is better than any film school. It teaches you how to write "high stakes" without needing a ticking bomb or a global conspiracy. The "bomb" is a secret. The "conspiracy" is a family trying to keep their heads above water.
Check your local streaming services—in the UK, it often cycles through BBC iPlayer or BritBox. If you’re abroad, look for it on Acorn TV or Amazon's specialized British channels. It is an essential piece of television history that explains more about the British psyche than a hundred years of costume dramas ever could.
The next step is simple: watch the first episode of Season 1, "The Taxi Driver." Within ten minutes, you’ll understand why we’re still talking about this show twenty years later. It’s not just about a street. It’s about the fact that no matter how ordinary someone looks, they are carrying a world of drama behind their front door.