Sharon Horgan

Rob Delaney and Sharon Horgan end their modern classic of a sitcom by moving to the US for the funeral of Rob's mum, who was played by the late Carrie Fisher. In a whirl of snarling grief are the usual cathartic transgressions, and a perfect blend of cynicism and sentimentality. Peerless.

The penultimate episode in this season of Catastrophe - tragically, the last - kicked off with such a sublimely off-colour gag (about another Channel 4 show, Sunday Brunch) that I mused, mildly, that standards could only trickle downhill thence.

Should have known better. A guest appearance by Chris Noth as Rob's misogynist boss, all geezerish complicity and freezing out women (because they obviously don't have a sense of humour), was sexist in a way I had thought had been made illegal in America, but on reflection probably remains rampant (if not mandatory) in most States.

How half our own population must have cheered, then, at Sharon's calling-out of her own new and faintly creepy headmaster, in a way which surely can be done most skilfully with a soft County Meath accent and fast sense of sweary humour. Most women don't enjoy such luxurious wish-fulfilment - but, for all that, this somehow managed to achieve message with nuance, without ever losing sight of Sharon Horgan's primary objective, which is to be caustically funny throughout.

Catastrophe, episode 3, review

Nobody could call this sitcom predictable. This often-shocking sitcom has a modish wisdom that speaks to the nation's thirty-somethings.

Series four of the Sharon Horgan-Rob Delaney comedy got off to a cracking start last week and doesn't let up here as Rob's sister Sidney, who has discovered religion, pays a visit from the US. Meanwhile, Fran invites Sharon to see her son in his revealing new play while Chris brings along a guest: his new girlfriend.

And so to the fourth (and - sad face - final) series of Catastrophe. Rob (Delaney) is in a neck brace and an Alcoholics Anonymous programme and an enforced charity shop job. Cue near-knuckle (but perfectly judged, a truly fine act) observations on cerebral palsy. Sharon Horgan's smartly pissed off, smartly resenting him, smartly loving him. Despite. And if you ever need a faintly filthy and bang on-the-money joke about Radiohead to perk up a self-help session - let's face it, who hasn't? - the terrific Julie Hesmondhalgh is just yer lass for it: a welcome, dippy, addition to this achingly human, filthily human, comedy. We will so miss it.

There are so many things to love about Catastrophe, not least the way it pays attention to the smallest details in the matter of relationships; when Sharon rings Rob's mobile, for instance, she still comes up as "Sharon London Sex". But what I mostly love about it is Sharon, from the stubborn set of her jaw, which is like Tower Bridge when it's halfway up (or down), to the way she drinks a margarita (as if she is eight, and it is Tizer). I love the way she picks a fight - I'm not very courageous like that - and I love the way that, once she's started, every accusation instantly spirals into a flight of fancy; her pugnaciousness, being so outlandish, is delightful rather than tedious, as it would be in almost anyone else. Above all, I love it when she sulks. Sharon Horgan's bottom lip: what a magnificent thing it is, and with such good comic timing, too.

Catastrophe, Series 4, Channel 4 review

There are five more episodes before Catastrophe ends, and it promises to be a bittersweet goodbye, as new characters join the fray.

Catastrophe review

Rob Delaney and Sharon Horgan are utterly at home together.

Catastrophe - series 4, episode 1 review

Catastrophe was back to take the rom out of romcom and twist it into strange shapes, before putting it back again at a skew-whiff angle.

Catastrophe, season four review

Sharon Horgan and Rob Delaney's comedy is spiky, beautifully confident, nimble, quick and exceedingly funny - but it's right that this is the last series.