Frank Underwood

Underwood is not very nice: at first you think Frank (Kevin Spacey) is just a bit of a Machiavellian old devil, playing senators and congressman off one another with a dash of twisted southern charm. But then he ups it a level. He deliberately arranges for a brick to be chucked through his own window, sets up and fires his not very bright bodyguard and goads Marty Spinella, the head lobbyist for the teacher’s union, into punching him in the face, all just to get an education bill passed. And then he goes and murders poor old Peter Russo (Corey Stoll), the troubled congressman whose loyalty Underwood has been cheerfully abusing to further his own means. By gassing him to death in his own car. There’s upping it a level, and there’s this. Watch out Zoe Barnes.

Oh, and Underwood might be gay. Episode eight reunites him with his college buddies, and it emerges that he was once in love with one of them, Tim Corbet. The scenes between the two are surprisingly sincere – it is perhaps the only time Underwood isn’t desperately scheming and doesn’t seem to have the upper hand. “You meant something to me,” Underwood tells Corbet. The tenderness is such a contrast to his description of his affection for wife Claire: “I love her more than sharks love blood”. Charming. Even though Underwood’s college love affair was an interesting plot twist, I suspect it won’t be resurfacing, which is one of the pleasures of House of Cards. Unlike so many US dramas, not every aspect of the story is just for plot progression, which is why the characters feel so rich.

Claire Underwood

Underwood’s wife (Robin Wright, who won a Golden Globe for the role) may have some heart after all. At first, she appears to be the Lady Macbeth of DC. She is utterly unrepentant as she fires half her staff from her environmental organisation (including her oldest employee, who bitterly reminds Underwood that at her age she’ll never get a job elsewhere) and screws her husband on his Delaware River bill for her own gain. But there are telltale signs that somewhere behind that icy façade, there might be a conscience. She struggles to watch a woman in her 50s work a coffee shop till, clearly aware that this is the fate she has just sentenced her employee to. She temporarily runs off with her ex-lover, photographer Adam Galloway, because his arty world offers her a respite from the cut throat drama of politics. And at the end of season one, when faced with being sued for wrongful termination by a former employee, she visits a doctor to investigate possible fertility treatment. Perhaps she wants a legacy that isn’t just screwing people over.

Zoe Barnes

Zoe Barnes (Kate Mara) has stopped shagging Underwood. She begins season one desperately trying to get herself a front-page byline with push-up bras, tight T-shirts and quickies with Underwood. She ends it teaming up with former rival hack Janine Skorsky (Constance Zimmer), on the trail of a story so big that her new love interest and fellow reporter Lucas (Sebastian Arcelus) is worried it might put her life in danger. Barnes is on the cusp of linking Underwood to Russo’s downfall, which is thankfully what puts an end to the squeamish Barnes/Underwood sex scenes. I never want to watch Underwood performing oral sex on Barnes while she is on the phone to her dad again. So wrong. I am also hoping that Barnes and Skorsky might team up with a different news site so that the name Slugline is banished from the script. Worst name for a political blog ever.

Doug Stamper

The terrifying Stamper (Michael Kelly) is Underwood’s right-hand man, and he is very scary. While Underwood is all about theatrical threats and hammy asides to the camera, Stamper is quiet, calculating and basically the real villain here. We end season one with Rachel Posner, the call girl who entrapped Russo and is the only link to Underwood, in Stamper’s care. At the moment he’s paying for her silence, but I fear that come season two, he might end up silencing her altogether.

President Garrett Walker

For a leader of the free world, Walker (Michael Gill) is surprisingly slow on the uptake. Consistently two steps behind Underwood, he gets played at every turn. But he’s at his most stupid when he appoints his pal Tusk (clearly a Warren Buffett rip off) to see if Underwood is VP material. Walker and Tusk go way back, but somehow Walker doesn’t think Underwood will find that out. Underwood does, and cuts a deal with Tusk behind Walker’s back. Which makes you think that the quality the president is looking for in his VP is someone as unobservant as him.