In the misty valleys of West Yorkshire, where the Pennine winds carry echoes of rebellion, the airwaves are crackling with punk riffs and midlife manifestos. BBC’s Riot Women, the audacious 2025 breakout that turned menopause into a mosh pit and friendship into a feminist force, has just been greenlit for a second season. The announcement, dropping like a distorted guitar chord on November 10, 2025, confirms what fans have been screaming since the finale’s raw, unresolved howl: the revolution isn’t over—it’s evolving. Created, written, and directed by the indomitable Sally Wainwright, the six-part series didn’t just capture hearts; it ignited them, blending blistering original tracks with gut-punch stories of women reclaiming their fury. With returning stars Joanna Scanlan, Rosalie Craig, Tamsin Greig, Lorraine Ashbourne, and Amelia Bullmore, Season 2 promises to crank the volume higher, delving deeper into the band’s fractured lives, amplified secrets, and the unyielding power of solidarity. As Wainwright herself teased in a post-renewal interview, “These women aren’t done raging—they’re just getting started. Season 2 will be louder, messier, and more unapologetically alive.”
For those late to the riot, Riot Women—originally announced in 2023 as Hot Flush before a title tweak that better captured its snarling spirit—premiered on October 12, 2025, on BBC One, with all episodes dropping simultaneously on iPlayer for the binge-hungry masses. Set against the rugged charm of Hebden Bridge, a bohemian enclave Wainwright knows like her own backyard (the Calder Valley has been her storytelling canvas for hits like Happy Valley and Gentleman Jack), the series follows five women in their 50s who stumble into punk rock as an unlikely antidote to invisibility. What starts as a lark—to enter a local talent contest—morphs into a cathartic uprising. As they bash out chords in dingy pubs and fog-shrouded moors, they unearth not just musical talent, but buried angers: the grind of caregiving, the sting of dismissal, the hormonal hurricanes of menopause, and the quiet betrayals of love and legacy.
At the helm is Beth Thornton (Joanna Scanlan), a divorced secondary school teacher whose life is a monotonous loop of marking papers and masking loneliness in her isolated moorland cottage. Scanlan, whose BAFTA-winning turn in The Thick of It proved her mastery of quiet devastation, brings a weary ferocity to Beth—her eyes flickering with the spark of someone who’s spent decades dimming her own light. It’s Beth who first floats the band idea, inspired by a viral clip of middle-aged misfits jamming online, but her real catalyst is a bombshell from her past: an adult son grappling with addiction and a long-lost connection to one of the group’s wild cards.
Enter Kitty Eckersley (Rosalie Craig), the shoplifting firebrand whose chaotic existence—petty thefts funding a nomadic life of bad decisions—collides with the group during a botched arrest. Craig, radiant in The Serpent Queen and Moonflower Murders, infuses Kitty with a raw, electric vulnerability; her vocals, belting originals like the HRT-fueled anthem “Seeing Red,” are the series’ secret weapon. Kitty’s arc is a whirlwind of mischief and redemption, revealing an “earth-shattering” tie to Beth that unravels family myths and forces reckonings with abandonment. Their bond, forged in shared songwriting sessions over cheap wine and whispered confessions, becomes the emotional core—a mother-daughter surrogate story that’s as tender as it is turbulent.
Rounding out the Riot Women are Holly Gaskell (Tamsin Greig), a retiring cop whose 30-year career has left her cynical and single, her badge a shield against personal voids; Jess (Lorraine Ashbourne), the no-nonsense pub landlady juggling rowdy punters and a dementia-afflicted mum; and Yvonne (Amelia Bullmore), the empathetic midwife navigating empty-nest syndrome and a philandering husband. Greig, the queen of wry neurosis from Episodes and Friday Night Dinner, lends Holly a steely humor that cracks under pressure, while Ashbourne (Sherwood, After the Flood) grounds Jess in earthy resilience. Bullmore (Twenty Twelve), ever the chameleon, makes Yvonne’s quiet unraveling heartbreakingly relatable. Together, they learn instruments—bass for Beth, drums for Jess, guitar for the rest—in a crash course of amp feedback and finger blisters, their rehearsals a riotous therapy session where lyrics lacerate everything from patriarchal neglect to the medical gaslighting of women’s pain.
The music, penned by Brighton duo ARXX (Hanni Pidduck and Clara Townsend), is no afterthought; it’s the pulse. Tracks like “Old Bags’ Department” (a rejected band name turned banger) and “No Apologies—Just Noise” weave punk’s DIY ethos with riot grrrl’s feminist snarl, evolving from garage jams to stage-shaking anthems. The actors’ real instrument lessons add authenticity—Craig’s Kitty shreds with surprising grit, Scanlan’s Beth thumps bass like pent-up frustration. Filmed in Hebden Bridge’s gritty nooks—from The Albert Pub’s sticky floors to Calder Holmes Park’s windswept fields—the series captures Yorkshire’s soul: resilient, wry, and unyieldingly communal. Production wrapped in July 2024, with Wainwright directing most episodes alongside Amanda Brotchie (Gentleman Jack), and a supporting ensemble including Anne Reid, Sue Johnston, Taj Atwal, Claire Skinner, Peter Davison, Amit Shah, Kevin Doyle, and Chandeep Uppal adding layers of familial friction and local color.
Critics hailed Riot Women as Wainwright at her peak, a “glorious feminist roar” that elevates midlife malaise into euphoric defiance. The Guardian’s Lucy Mangan dubbed it “one of her best,” praising its “rich, plot-packed” weave of humor and heart: “Wainwright covers a lot of ground without getting bogged down.” Rotten Tomatoes clocked an 83% fresh rating, with reviewers lauding its “raucous, messy charge through midlife” and unflinching take on menopause—not as punchline, but powerhouse. The i Paper called it “one of the very best” explorations of the change, while HuffPost UK celebrated its “bubbling rage at patriarchal injustices.” Even skeptics warmed: one Guardian column critiqued its “cartoonish” punk nods but conceded the emotional realism in the women’s fury. Metacritic’s 77/100 underscored “generally favorable” vibes, with Rolling Stone UK spotlighting ARXX’s “evolved riot grrrl” sound as a bridge between generations.
Fans? They erupted. Social media lit up with #RiotWomen chants, memes of middle-aged mosh pits, and petitions for a real-world tour. “If you only watch one thing this week, make it Riot Women—Sally Wainwright does it again!” trended on X, alongside gushing over the cast: “Hooked already, fabulously talented—dialogue so good!” Reddit’s r/BritishTV buzzed with threads calling it “off the scale,” praising the “hard-hitting, poignant” script. Binge-watchers on iPlayer raved about laugh-out-loud subplots—Holly’s awkward Tinder dates, Yvonne’s disastrous blind setup—balanced by tear-jerkers like Jess’s mum’s fade into forgetfulness. Divisions arose too: some X users griped it felt “rubbish” or “divisive” in its first minutes, dismissing the punk premise as gimmicky. But the chorus drowned them out: “Must-watch binge,” “Screaming for Season 2,” “Brilliant—powerful lead singer!”
Ratings vindicated the hype: over 5 million tuned in for the premiere, with iPlayer streams hitting 20 million hours in week one, outpacing Happy Valley‘s debut. It sparked watercooler wars on menopause awareness—clinics reported HRT queries spiking 30%—and even a Hebden Bridge “Riot Walks” tourism boom. BritBox International scooped North American rights, streaming from January 14, 2026, where early buzz calls it “unabashedly British” gold.
Wainwright’s alchemy shines here. The Yorkshire native, who cut her teeth on Coronation Street scripts before Last Tango in Halifax‘s tender family sagas, has long championed women’s inner lives. Happy Valley‘s Sarah Lancashire was her rage incarnate; Gentleman’s Jack‘s Suranne Jones, her unbowed queer icon. Riot Women feels personal: at 59, Wainwright drew from her own “fantasy” of rocking out, channeling “resentment and fury” at societal blind spots. “It’s half personal, half wish-fulfillment,” she told Radio Times. “These women are me, my mates—had enough of being invisible.” Her direction—intimate close-ups on sweat-slicked brows, wide shots of moors mirroring emotional expanses—turns the everyday epic. Producer Jessica Taylor (Happy Valley) and executive Nicola Shindler (Drama Republic) amplified the vision, ensuring the band’s anthems hit like emotional Molotovs.
The Season 1 finale left the gate ajar: the Riot Women clinch the talent contest, but fractures loom. Kitty’s “seething” ex lurks, Beth’s son spirals, Holly faces post-retirement voids, and a group trip to a women’s festival hints at broader horizons. Cast members are all-in for more. Craig told Radio Times, “It doesn’t feel final—I’m not done with Kitty.” Scanlan echoed, “These women have records to break.” Atwal, as Nisha (a fiery vocalist), teased “truthful” explorations of fallout. Reports from The Sun and Radio Times confirm BBC talks were “ongoing” pre-air, but post-finale metrics sealed it: “Captured the public’s imagination,” insiders say. Filming eyes a 2026 Yorkshire return, with ARXX teased for new tracks tackling “evolved” themes like legacy and loss. Budget upticks promise bolder gigs—perhaps a London showcase?—and guest spots from punk legends.
Yet Riot Women‘s triumph transcends telly. In a landscape of sanitized sisterhoods, it roars for the overlooked: women whose “certain age” is recast as prime rebellion time. As Pidduck of ARXX notes, “Riot grrrl hasn’t disappeared—it’s evolved.” Season 2 could tour national stages, unpack intergenerational feuds, or spotlight trans allies in the band. Whatever the riff, Wainwright’s ethos holds: no apologies, just noise. As the credits rolled on Season 1, with the women silhouetted against a bonfire blaze, belting “We’re not done yet,” it felt like a vow. The BBC’s renewal isn’t just smart business; it’s cultural ignition. In Hebden’s shadows or your living room, the Riot Women remind us: fury fades only if silenced. Theirs? It’s symphonic now.
