David Wolstencroft, creator and writer
I still have the notepad where I first doodled an idea about MI5 spies. I pitched it to the production company Kudos, which made documentaries: they didn’t have a drama department but the idea appealed. What producer doesn’t secretly want to make James Bond? Channel 4 and ITV said no, but the BBC liked it and we were off.
I grew up in the US and wanted to capture the adrenaline, ambition and scale of American shows. I remember asking: “Can I blow up a car?” The BBC kept saying yes. Back then, spy dramas still had this dark, dour Le Carré legacy. We dared to be shiny.
We had written four scripts when 9/11 happened. The show then became about the people stopping that happening in Britain. Who are they? How do they operate? Spooks was my preferred title. I had considered Five, then the BBC came up with the tagline: “MI5, not 9 to 5.”
In retrospect, the casting looks like the wisest set of decisions ever. At the time, Lisa Faulkner was the biggest name by far; Matthew Macfadyen, Keeley Hawes and David Oyelowo were relative unknowns but aced their auditions. As theatre actors, they brought depth and gravitas. How lucky to find three future superstars? Peter Firth became the anchor as Harry, the head of Section D. He’s the only actor who is in every episode across all 10 series. Nicola Walker joined for series two as Ruth. She had instant chemistry with Peter, so we developed that. Romance flowered in the midst of all this terror, duplicity and betrayal. They became the show’s beating heart.
Killing off Lisa’s character with a deep fat fryer was originally going to be in the series finale of season one. We decided to move it to episode two and break viewers’ hearts. It created the sense that nobody was safe. There was a furore afterward but you hardly see anything – it’s all implied. Somebody in LA told me that JJ Abrams screened it for his writers’ room and said: “This is how you do it!”
Advisers who can’t be named were instrumental in keeping things authentic. We’d rip plots from the headlines. Sometimes, the Ten O’Clock News bulletin after the show looked like an extra scene. One episode was referenced in Hansard. After a storyline about an attack on Sellafield with a Scimitar missile, an MP asked: “This TV drama is talking about our defences, why aren’t we?”
The morning after it first aired, I got a call saying ratings were 9.6m and we’d been recommissioned straight away. It was the sort of moment you dream about. MI5 had been having some trouble with recruitment but applications went through the roof. Today’s geopolitics mean you can easily imagine Spooks returning. New threats, a new generation, Harry passing the torch. In fact, I recently had an idea for a festive reboot. Imagine Harry alone on Christmas Day, drinking a rare Scotch. Someone visits with a gift and it gets worse from there …
Peter Firth, played Harry Pearce
The chance to play a spymaster was irresistible. I only had two scenes in the opening episode but the part grew and grew. You’d get a script and wonder if you would survive to the end. Somehow, Harry always did.
His black leather gloves were important for dramatic emphasis. When he puts them on, it’s always fairly terrifying – although often it was just because it was cold. They wouldn’t let me do action scenes, but I kept asking and eventually they relented. We came to a screeching halt in Whitehall, jumped out of the car and set off towards Downing Street because a bomb was about to go off. I ran five paces, pulled my hamstring and went down. They were like: “We told you, you’re too old for this. Stay in the car.”
Spooks broke a TV convention: never kill your heroes. Spooks killed every one of them apart from yours truly. We couldn’t believe it when they dispatched Lisa so early but it wasn’t fantasy violence, it was based on fact – an incident in 80s Belfast.
Incredible careers were launched by Spooks. It also made London look fantastic. Shooting in the capital is notoriously difficult but we would just send actors into Paddington station, stick two cameras in the gantries and film a scene. It was guerrilla film-making. We’d shoot meetings on random rooftops because it was a controllable environment.
The power of weekly television is incredible. I got recognised a lot. People yelled: “Oi! ’Arry!” Drivers would stop their vans, let me cross the street and give a little salute.
Some of the jargon was hell to learn. There’s quite a lot of me looking at my phone, which had my lines on it. I’d make an “Mmm, interesting” face and crack on. If we didn’t have a full script, we’d go into a meeting room and I’d say: “OK, here’s the situation.” Then pan around everyone’s faces, come back to me and I’d say: “So let’s get to it.” Then we’d add the dialogue afterwards.
Scripts often seemed prophetic. Our writers were in close contact with Chatham House, the international affairs thinktank, about the probabilities of events. That was pure gold. Apparently, Theresa May once said she wished every international incident could be solved by six good-looking people in expensive clothing, like Spooks.
Nicola and I were once invited to Thames House for a jolly. The rivalry with MI6 is real. They call them “TSARs” – those shits across the river. I met the real head of Section D, a rather unremarkable looking man, and asked, “What does the D stand for?” He looked at me with cold eyes and said, “Destruction.” For a moment, I believed him.
I’d return to the role if the chance came up. Harry’s probably running an antiques shop on the coast but he could be reactivated with one phone call.
