From the moment we met her, she engaged our hearts with her eagerness to please, her tight little skirts, her pure-hearted dreams of making a difference. Jake adored her air-conditioner, Nick adored her cleavage, and we adored her goodness, her charm, her childish crushes and her perfect hair. The firm relied upon her, nay, depended upon her, for who else would deign to suffer the Fallin foibles—the brusque brush-offs, the unceasing demands, the contrary advice, the topcoats flying at her from every angle like she was nothing but a hat stand with drippy lip gloss—who else, but Amanda?

So, you may well ask, do I resent the 30% screen time that Amanda Bowles managed to chisel off this week's Nick Fix? Do I secretly wish that she had gone quietly into the night rather than hogging 3 out of every 10 seconds that could have been Nick's? Do I regret the cumulative 12 minutes of my life that drained away while watching her poignant and uplifting Case of the Stalking Granny that had NOTHING WHATSOEVER TO DO WITH ANYTHING? No, I do not begrudge her this farewell.

More to the point, I do. It's kind of strange, really, that she was written out because a voice could not be found for her, and yet she has an awful lot to say for herself here, and she takes an interminably long time to say it. Long before granny even mentioned her shoeboxes, I was so bored that Wendy's razor blades would have been a blessed relief.

Am I a bad girl for wishing they'd made her do something naughty and got herself fired instead?

But here she is, stamping her foot and pouting and whining, and with the entire officeless staff panicking as the same thought collectively occurs to them—This place is going to fall apart without her—she melodramatically quits in a horribly un-Guardianlike fashion and ventures off into the big, wide world to seek out and defend the downtrodden indigent wherever she may find it, or possibly do drugs and get arrested, per Jake's advice—either way, she's going to Make A Difference, and by golly, she's going to look coiffed and firm-waisted doing it. Best of luck, Amanda.

And as the partners at Fallin & Associates call a crisis meeting, I realise that I can never have those 12 minutes back.

In happier times... ah, Burton in his pinny—that made my day. That's so cute. Thanks to a rupture in the space–time continuum (Q's fault—I knew he was around here somewhere), the day after 'Friday night' is looking a lot like Monday morning. Nick's crashed on his dad's couch with a hangover and Burton's telling him he needs "structure" in his life (meaning, "No more coke, son, whaddya say?"). Nick bows his head. He knows when he's been beat, and if he doesn't know he can look in the mirror and discover a handsome bruise. So he groans something and it's all settled, although Jake can't figure it out. "Nothing happened," says Nick. It's a Fallin thing.

So, now for the fun. The apology for, you know, uh, that thing that he said last night. Lulu's more interested in the aforementioned bruise, and what woman with a pulse wouldn't be, but Nick needs to say what he needs to say, "that thing that I said about you and me... I didn't mean to, I wasn't, I was not implying that we should ever, I mean..." Goddamnit, he thinks, tripping over himself like a three-legged baby giraffe in a bouncy castle, it was all so much easier with that Barstow woman. But then suddenly what he needed to say has somehow been said and they're both okay with it and so out pops a joke. Lulu, disarmed, smiles a sunny smile as he walks off with his awful-cute “Just kidding”—at least, I think he does and I think it was, because all we get is more of Lulu's sunny smile. Best line in the show and we never saw it.

For all his kidding, and he does try hard to suppress a wayward grin in Burton's office, Nick's having another rough week, which of course is as it should be—the funeral with Q and his mortal wife where Nick really has no business being, young Wendy Newberg cutting herself with razor blades ("Ooh, there's one I hadn't thought of before"), Mr "Bingo" mall lawyers's stars-and-stripes tie (there oughta be a law), nasty photos in a secret drawer, not to mention all that stuff about attorney–client privilege and family secrets. Nick does soul-deep troubled so well.

In the end, despite the Metaphor of the Swinging Gate, he must be wondering why he even bothered. He played the white knight and Wendy's not thanking him for it. He did the right thing, which in this case was neither ethical or what his client wanted, but he had the right things in his mind. Wendy seems to think she's headed for a foster home, which leads me to the strange conclusion that her mother, who was grateful to Nick for blowing the whistle, isn't prepared to throw her abusive husband out so that her abused daughter can come back. Maybe it will all turn out for the best, but meanwhile Nick is left banging his head against a brick wall as his guardian angel speech falls on deaf ears, and they sit and watch the Metaphor of the Falling Snow until her batteries run flat.

He'll be around. Cue guitars. Nice touch.

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* Apparently makes the call to McGee, instead of letting Burton do it, thereby cleaning up his own mess.

* Apologises to Lulu for asking her if she wanted to find out.

* Makes an anonymous phone call to save Wendy.

* Admits in court to making the anonymous phone call, risking jail and loss of his licence.

* Visits Wendy at the shelter and tries to offer support.

• Jake plays hockey.
• Burton worked for the Newberg family for 20 years, but no more.
• Amanda got what she deserved, though I can't help feeling sorry for a character whose only flaw, as ordained by the writers, was naivety.
• The mall lawyer with the tie has done over a thousand wills at $199 a pop. Nick's done... a few.
• Amanda's initial consultation with Mrs Stern lasted 81 seconds. That's quality service for you.

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