And Just Like That gave us the worst possible ending – just as the show was getting good

This news was well received by everyone who didn't appreciate the fine art of hate-watching a show and laughing at all its flaws. But for those of us who revolved our entire week around whatever embarrassing thing Miranda got up to next, this cancellation has been kind of devastating, especially when the show was actually getting good, at long last.

OK, maybe not good, per se. But the third season was certainly a step up from the two that preceded it, easing into the show's ridiculous rhythms without trying so hard to live up to what made the original series so great.

In its final season, And Just Like That had become its own strange beast, an amalgamation of absurd hats and smelly armpits and terrible phone sex that proved to be strangely fascinating in a very different way to Sex and the City.

Upon delivering the news, series creator Michael Patrick King wrote: "While I was writing the last episode of And Just Like That season 3, it became clear to me that this might be a wonderful place to stop."

I would argue the opposite. With Aidan finally out of the picture (and Duncan too), this was clearly "a wonderful place" to continue from, delivering a fourth season where Carrie could navigate singledom as an older woman who gets to have fun again, like she did in Sex and the City.

The final episode sets this up without giving us a chance to see what that actually looks like in practice, robbing us of what this show could and should have been all along.

What's clear, however, is that King's decision definitely did occur to him while writing the final episode. Because, let's face it: there's no way the 11 episodes that preceded it were planned with a meaningful end to the series in mind.

By choosing to finish the show at the last minute, the resulting finale is a rushed, stunted mess that raises the bar for just how bad And Just Like That can be. In fact, these final 33 minutes are so bad that they'll have you missing the glory days of Che Diaz. Heck, they'll almost have you missing Aidan. Almost.

Our first clue that the finale would suck came with the reveal of that runtime. Because how on earth is the show supposed to wrap up every storyline in just 33 minutes and still give these characters (who we've loved for decades) the send-off they deserve? The answer is it can't.

What we're left with instead is all the characters separated (during Thanksgiving, no less) and Miranda trying to navigate an explosion of actual poop in her apartment.

It's tempting to draw parallels between this and the sh***y storylines Cynthia Nixon has had to deal with throughout these past three seasons, suffering perhaps the biggest change from her original character to whatever they turned Miranda into for this sequel.

It's also tempting to point out that ending the show with a poop catastrophe is actually rather fitting too, but it didn't have to be this way.

The last time we see the girls together comes early on in the finale, during a bridal fashion walk where they discuss what marriage means to them and what that might look like now, in their 50s. It's not exactly deep, but in examining what sex could be in the city now everyone's older, these scenes do at least tap into what this sequel show originally promised.

That's what makes it so strange when Thanksgiving comes and the focus switches to Brady's baby momma, Mia, who brings obnoxious Gen-Z caricatures along to mock Miranda and just be generally annoying.

This holiday could have served as such a poignant, if somewhat cliched, way to bring our faves together one last time, giving thanks for what they've overcome while looking ahead to the future. Instead, characters we couldn't care less about take up valuable minutes without any actual resolution to speak of.

With this being the end, we're never going to meet Brady's child, which means we'll never get to see Miranda navigate life as a grandmother. That's exactly the kind of storyline so rarely seen on TV that could have helped set And Just Like That apart, justifying the show's existence beyond a mere nostalgia trip.

Steve fares even worse, just showing up for a couple of episodes to be angry at the world and remind us just how weird his accent has gotten over the years. One somewhat touching dinner shared between him and Miranda doesn't do justice to the decades they shared together as a key couple on the original show.

Charlotte's end is even more vapid. After struggling with Harry's recovery from cancer, the pair haven't been able to enjoy sex for a few weeks. And then it happens. Harry gets a boner. It's a Thanksgiving miracle! Yep, almost three decades of storytelling has come down to Charlotte sneaking off to bang Harry, leaving her daughter Lily to answer the door and give Carrie the good news.

There's also some brief acknowledgement of Charlotte reckoning once more with Rock's gender identity, recycling the same storyline again with about as much screentime as Big enjoyed in season one.

Rounding out the original gang, you might have expected to see at least some acknowledgement that Samantha still exists, even if she's living her best life across the pond in London. But following her season 2 cameo and a brief set of texts earlier this season, Samantha is AWOL.

It tracks, especially given how Kim Cattrall doesn't "want to be in a situation for even an hour" where she's not enjoying herself, yet it's still odd to say farewell to this world without paying tribute to most people's favourite character.

Newer additions to the cast don't fare much better. Lisa's story ends with a whimper, not a bang, although it's good that she didn't bang her editor. That would have opened up a whole new can of worms left unexplored thanks to the show's abrupt cancellation.

Seema does get to enjoy some character development, at least, after she chooses to let her walls down and spend Thanksgiving with the family of Carrie's hot gardener. Nothing screams growth like wearing jeans.

Separating the cast for large chunks of the finale doesn't really make any sense, but if we're being real, when did this show ever make sense? Don't get me started on where Anthony and Giuseppe end up, teasing a gay wedding that queer fans will never get to see.

At least all this creates an easy segue for Carrie to end up alone in the end, which is the one thing this finale does actually get right.

No longer tied to men who continually disappoint her, Carrie enjoys a slice of pumpkin pie and a turn on the karaoke machine she once resented. In doing so, our leading lady proves that happiness doesn't come from being loved. It comes from loving yourself, and that's true no matter how old you might be or where you are in life.

Never mind the terrible novel she's finally finished or that the song she's singing seems to last at least an hour within the show. What's important is that Carrie's not alone. She's on her own. And just like that, the show sets up what could have been the best season yet, only for it to come to an end.

At least And Just Like That was true to itself in these final moments, going out like the absolute mess it's been since day one.

And Just Like That seasons 1-3 are showing on Sky Comedy and NOW.

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