For decades, Robert Bathurst has been one of British television’s most beloved actors—charming, self-deprecating, and undeniably polite. Whether it was his career-defining role as David Marsden in Cold Feet, his time as Sir Anthony in Downton Abbey, or his comedic charm in My Dad’s the Prime Minister, Bathurst has long been associated with wit and warmth.

But all that is about to change.

This week, viewers of BBC Casualty are in for a shock as Robert makes his dramatic debut as a ruthless, emotionally detached surgeon—a role so far removed from his public persona, it’s bound to rattle longtime fans.

“I enjoyed the complexity of the character,” Bathurst confesses, eyes lighting up as he talks about playing someone cold, clinical, and, at times, disturbingly patronising. In this new role, he won’t be dishing out dry jokes or gentle life lessons. Instead, he arrives on-screen as a calculated, almost callous medical professional—one who has no patience for emotional nuance and even less for his female colleagues.

And that transformation is intentional.

“I don’t want a surgeon to have that many feelings,” Bathurst admits in a surprisingly candid moment. “I want a surgeon to operate on me without feeling my pain.” It’s a perspective that blurs the line between character and actor—revealing not only the logic behind his portrayal, but the chilling realism that will make this role so powerful.

As Casualty prepares for a dramatic end-of-year run, producers are banking on Bathurst’s arrival to shake up the dynamic inside Holby’s medical team. Viewers are used to characters with secrets and trauma, but this? This is something new. A surgeon who isn’t hiding pain, but simply doesn’t feel it. Someone who commands respect with silence, and intimidates with intelligence.

Behind the scenes, Bathurst beams about his time on set. “It was a voyage of adventure,” he recalls. “It was a lot of fun—and they have a brilliant team.” But don’t let the off-screen warmth fool you. On camera, his performance cuts like a scalpel.

The actor’s real-life reputation as “TV’s nicest man” only adds to the shock value. Audiences who once associated him with Cold Feet’s romantic missteps or Agatha Raisin’s offbeat mysteries may struggle to reconcile this new iteration—a man who dominates surgical theatres and dismisses emotion as weakness.

And yet, this transformation isn’t out of character for Bathurst—it’s a natural evolution for an actor who thrives on reinvention.

He reflects on his acting path with humour and modesty, recalling his early days with the Footlights at Cambridge, and the pivot away from law into acting. “I never looked back,” he says, without a trace of regret. “I knew I wanted to do this.”

That same instinct—the urge to leap—continues to shape his career. While he remains proud of Cold Feet (and yes, he’s open to a third act, if writer Mike Bullen gives the green light), he refuses to be boxed in by nostalgia. “Each phase of life gives new things to explore,” he says. “I want to keep learning, keep finding the ironies in each line.”

It’s no surprise then that he embraced a role so uncomfortably different.

“I kept getting lost in the studio,” he laughs. “It was like being in a real hospital. You’d think you were walking into a corridor, and it’d be a cupboard.” Yet in front of the camera, there’s no sign of disorientation. Bathurst commands every scene with icy precision.

Privately, the actor avoids disclosing whether he’s ever been a patient himself—but he lights up when discussing his college job as a hospital orderly. “I used to take stroke patients on their first walks. It was fascinating. That time stayed with me.”

Now, decades later, he’s stepping back into the hospital—this time as someone in charge, someone whose hands hold life and death. And perhaps, someone who has forgotten what it means to feel either.

With four daughters and a long, joyful marriage to artist Victoria Threlfall, Bathurst’s personal life seems worlds apart from the emotionally distant man he plays. He jokes about whether his children are proud of him: “I don’t think pride comes into it,” he laughs, remembering a time they watched him onstage nearly tumble off a chair with casters. “They almost shouted ‘Daddy!’ to warn me. I would’ve loved it if they had.”

But if there’s one thing his audience can be proud of, it’s his refusal to stop growing.

“I’ll keep working as long as I’m wanted,” he says, with quiet determination. “The profession may retire me—but until then, I want to squeeze the dialogue for every irony it has.”

And irony, indeed, will be at the heart of this new chapter—where TV’s nicest man becomes Casualty’s coldest surgeon.

Will viewers accept Robert Bathurst’s chilling new persona—or is Holby not ready for a doctor with no heart?