At a first glance, Jed Mercurio’s Bodyguard looked like your typical crime drama: think shadowy meetings in alleyways, sizzling sex scenes, red herrings aplenty, and a classic whodunit mystery.

However, as stalwart fans of the BBC One series will tell you in no uncertain terms, the show has proven far more complex than the sum of its parts. Over the past six episodes, we’ve gasped as it has served up hefty helpings of of political intrigue, terrorist plots, and shocking acts of betrayal. Then there’s the deeper, more thought-provoking topics to contend with: think alcoholism, sexism, broken families and the careful breakdown of the ‘vulnerable woman’ trope (Anjli Mohindra’s Nadia had not been strong-armed into donning a suicide vest by a manipulative husband or shadowy MI5 forces: she was the bomb-maker and plot instigator. “I am an engineer,” she said proudly. “I am a jihadi.”).

Perhaps the show’s most important plot point, though, was its careful conversation around mental health.

Bodyguard finale: the huge significance of those 4 little words