100 Best British TV Shows to Watch Right Now

With the various police procedurals available online, it can feel like an oversaturated genre, at best. At worst, with the struggles the world has to do with regards to the justice system, police procedurals can glorify the institution. Criminal Record examines this, but it doesn’t give the easy answers other shows have when discussing the systemic failure of the police, especially when it comes to race, age, and sex. Peter Capaldi stands in as the old guard, though his skin-crawling presence keeps Dan Hegarty’s real intentions an enigma until the very end. However, it’s Cush Jumbo as the empathetic June Lenker that drives the show, with her persistence meeting Hegarty’s every move, and her frustrations mirroring the real rage the world feels with regards to past injustices. The way the two clash creates a novel rookie-veteran dynamic that makes Criminal Record so striking.

With a film version that didn’t live up to the hype of the original novel, Netflix’s adaptation of One Day released just in time to wreck the fans’ hearts all over again, but this time, it’s a good thing. The expanded runtime allowed Netflix to delve more into the moments in the novel, with each episode dedicated to a day in the year in Emma’s and Dexter’s lives, contrasting their respective worlds and opportunities available to them as different members of London society. And the couple is played beautifully by Leo Woodall and Ambika Mod, with a believable chemistry that isn’t formed in a single spark, but made in multiple moments. If you’re needing a good cry just right before Valentine’s Day, One Day is a superb slow burn romance to let those tears out.

British period dramas usually tend to fall under two categories: traditional or contemporary. The former risks being boring while the latter risks being obnoxious. Vanity Fair, the miniseries, thankfully falls somewhere in the middle. It sticks to the source by presenting Emma Sharpe as an unapologetic social climber, but expounds her character so that we sympathize with her circumstances. Of course she’s cunning, she has to be in order to survive. Of course she’s a flirt, she wasn’t raised to be as conservative as her contemporaries. Because of updates like these, the series feels invigorating and refreshing to watch, even though rags-to-riches and princess-and-the-pauper-like stories have been told many times. Often, it veers towards soapy territory, but it’s nonetheless fun and exciting (and sparkly for avid gown fans!) to watch.

Is a TV adaptation necessary when we already have a novel and film version of Howards End? Probably not, but this four-parter from the BBC is beautiful and damning nonetheless. As in previous texts, the show follows two families of opposing ideologies—the Schlegels and the Wilcoxes—as they ponder on ideas of class and politics, ultimately becoming the thing they claim to despise. The Wilcoxes, conservatives, are more obviously judgemental, but it’s the liberal Schlegels who are more interesting to watch. They assuage their guilt and impose their supposed goodness by trying to help someone of the lower class, but the results are varied, if not downright tragic. Like most British period dramas, the costumes here are beautifully detailed and the speech wonderfully eloquent. But Howards End, appropriately, is less dramatic and sensual than the usual fare. As other critics have pointed out, this is a show about ideas and people above all, so if that’s your cup of tea, then this should come as an enjoyable, bingeable treat.

Before he was a beloved TV star, comedian Alan Carr was a young boy growing up in a small town not quite ready for his shine. In Changing Ends, he takes us through that childhood, which is sometimes sweet, sometimes tough, but always comfortingly, relatably hilarious. By appearing in it and addressing us, present-day Carr ran the risk of being cheeky, explanatory, self-indulgent, and jarring—the 1980s setting is nice and nostalgic, why ruin it?—but his presence surprisingly works. It’s interesting to see the differences and lasting similarities between Young Carr and Old Carr. The former is naive and unrelentingly himself while the latter is worldly and reflective, and also unrelentingly himself. You don’t have to know who Carr is to enjoy this short but sweet entry (I certainly didn’t), you only have to recall that time in your life when you first started growing into yourself—how simultaneously awkward, painful, and exhilarating it felt.

Emotional and increasingly hard to watch over its five episodes, It’s a Sin nevertheless reminds us about an aspect of the AIDS crisis that often gets buried underneath accounts of suffering and injustice. We’re shown a truly supportive, joyful community that wasn’t simply engaging in shallow pleasures, but helping each other become their best selves. This optimism at the beginning gives the miniseries an even more tragic quality, as these characters struggle to recover from the initial shock and confusion of the spread of this disease. It’s a smartly paced and economical show that that still manages to show off the talents of a brilliant cast—in particular, Olly Alexander, Callum Scott Howells, and a star-making turn from Lydia West going toe-to-toe with the exceptional Keeley Hawes in a scene-stealing guest role.

Tour de France: Unchained is an intense sports docuseries depicting the ins and outs of the prominent cycling race. While cycling is an individual activity, Tour de France is structured to be a team sport — usually comprising around 20 teams with eight riders each. The first season depicts the 2022 run from Copenhagen to Champs-Élysées, the comeback after the pandemic, with players looking to defeat two-time defending champion Tadej Pogačar (UAE Team Emirates). If you’re up to date with cycling news, you’ll know how this one ends. However, it’s still a worthwhile watch, as the show goes behind the scenes to witness the team dynamics, the severe falls, and the steep challenges. With this in mind, Tour de France is very watchable, especially for fans of the sport.

Black Snow has the sleek style of a modern murder mystery, but its concern with Australia’s colonial past that sets this show apart. As a neo-noir series centered on a murder, the show has all the classic elements: the hardboiled detective, the suspicious townsfolk, and the murder. As the murder is set in 1994, nostalgic summer-tinged high school scenes make it easy to root for justice for the show’s young victim.

But the series stands out as it’s always mindful of Isabel Baker, always concerned with her and her dynamics with her friends, family, and her South Sea Islander (ASSI) community. Supported by the strong performance of newcomer Talijah Blackman-Corowa, and even consulting the ASSI community personally in the show’s development and production, Black Snow is excellent not just as a murder mystery but also as a depiction of a community that’s rarely portrayed on screen.

After the successful release of The Gentlemen (2019), it would have been easy to just continue the story with the same cast of characters, but instead Guy Ritchie makes a spinoff with the same cannibis chaos, but instead expands it to a startlingly funny depiction of the British aristocracy and the criminal underworld. It has all the action-packed styling Ritchie is known for, with each episode bringing up a new inheritance issue Theo James as Eddie Halstead has to solve, with the help of a cool and cunning Kara Scodelario. While the episodic troubles do feel a bit tired after eight long episodes, The Gentlemen keeps the intrigue through never losing sight of the tension occurring between the main duo.

In Sweetpea, every element comes together to make an addictive watch. The premise is amusing on its own—a shy girl is pushed so far into the edge she sees murder as a viable option—but brought to life by stylish direction, witty lines, and an irresistibly endearing Ella Purnell, you get great TV. It’s not exactly novel (the underrated Hulu series Obituary has a similar premise) but it benefits from having more than a few twists hidden up its sleeve, not to mention a complex anti-hero in Purnell, who you know is wrong but feel bad for anyway. Who doesn’t want to root for the little girl standing up to her bully, the girl who stomps her foot down and demands her hard-earned respect at the workplace? Of course, it’s never that simple, and it’s that conflicting feeling of liking and abhorrent Purnell’s character that makes it an intriguing show.