Time, crafted by Jimmy McGovern, is a darling of the critics. Season 1 showing us that men’s prisons are just delightful hubs of moral wrestling and soul sucking despair. Then came set in a women’s prison, where showcase the joys of grief, addiction and family collapse. It is all served with realism, it could cut glass paired with performances that hit harder than prison door slamming shut.

Meet the characters from Time

Mark Cobden

Okay, Mark is that quietly volcanic type — calm on the surface but you just know something is smouldering underneath. He comes off as steady, chain-smoking maybe, actually — no wait, maybe he only pretends to smoke to look less nervous? — basically someone who carries responsibility like it’s a backpack full of stones. He makes hard choices and you can feel the guilt clinging to him, but he’s also weirdly funny sometimes, a dry one-liner out of nowhere. Honestly, he’s the sort of person you’d trust to get you out of trouble and then watch him cry into his tea an hour later, which is oddly heroic.

Eric McNally

Eric is the textbook “principle-first” guy who also loses his temper in the kitchen, like, a lot — but he means well, really. He’s family-focused, stubborn in the best and worst ways, and has this worn kindness that people underestimate until it’s almost too late. His moral compass is loud and annoying sometimes, but I kind of love that — plus he definitely has a ridiculous hobby (model trains? gardening? both?) that softens him. There’s this tragic, exhausted edge about him, like somebody who keeps trying to do the right thing even when the world keeps saying no.

Johnno

Ugh, Johnno is a wildcard — loud, slippery, charismatic in a way that makes you uncomfortable and fascinated at the same time. He can be violent and petty one minute, sentimental and protective the next; he’s all contradictions, which is honestly what makes him magnetic. He’s the guy who will start a fight and then bring you chips afterwards, or confess something deep at 3am, so you never really know which version is the real one. Slight suspicion he keeps a secret stash of stickers or something unexpectedly soft, because of course he does.

Sonia McNally

Sonia is fierce but quietly worn, the kind of person who manages the chaos of other people and somehow keeps her own small self intact — mostly. She’s loving and very practical, throws in just the right amount of sarcasm when things get dramatic, and would absolutely shame you into being better without even raising her voice. Also, tiny detail: she almost certainly has a secret playlist of guilty-pleasure songs that she dances to when no one’s watching. There’s this mix of patience and simmering strength that makes her feel like home and a warning sign all at once.

Stevie

Stevie is complicated and young-ish and carries a lot of hurt like an old coat, you know? He’s sharp and quick but also weirdly innocent at moments, likes quoting films one second and getting violent the next, which is kind of terrifying and fascinating. He reads — like, he actually reads — but also swears like a sailor, another lovely contradiction. He’s the character you want to reach but also the one who’ll slap your hand if you get too close; messy, real, and absolutely not boring.

Daniel

Daniel feels like the moral hinge of everything, someone who tries to be decent in a place that prizes toughness, and you can tell it costs him. He’s empathetic, awkward in a sweet way, and has this stubborn loyalty that gets him into trouble but also makes him oddly heroic. He probably hums old songs when he’s nervous and then denies it, because pride, but like, you’d catch him humming. He’s quiet but not weak — more like quietly exploding with feelings you wish he’d share more often.

David McNally

David is prickly and raw, that sort of kid who’s had hits and is still trying to figure out how to stand up without swinging. He’s angry, yes, but also very human — protective in a weird, sometimes misplaced way — and you can see him trying to do better even when he fails spectacularly. Small, random detail: he definitely keeps a weird collection of tickets or receipts in his pocket, like a time-capsule of bad choices and good nights. He’s frustrating, heartbreaking, and kind of impossible not to watch.

Jackson Jones

Jackson is loud, sharp, and uncomfortably charming — the sort of presence that fills a room and makes everyone slightly nervous. He’s clever in a survival-kind-of-way, has a dry, dark sense of humour, and loves making other people squirm for fun, but sometimes he’s also unexpectedly loyal. He probably likes romantic comedies in secret (don’t tell), and will loudly deny it while secretly knowing every line. He’s trouble and charisma wrapped into one and you kind of respect him for it, even if you’d never want to be on his bad side.