Last Thursday, the makers of the seven o'clock week-night TV One show were so determined to be non-current with their line-up of stories they even managed to overlook Easter, aside from a brief appearance, right at programme's end, of a large chocolate rabbit.
Besides being pretty much news and Easter-free, Thursday's episode was notable for being the last to feature Jesse Mulligan, the show's so-called light touch, though he's famous mainly for being the last survivor from Seven Sharp's original line-up, way back at the start of last year.
My old mother, parsimonious by nature, always thought it a scandal that the show had three presenters. "What a terrible waste of our money," she mentioned to me a couple of dozen times.
I told her making television was a bit more complicated than that - and, anyway, the channel was probably saving a fortune by never getting out and doing any real stories, just having all those presenters sitting around yakking to each other.
There might be a bit less yakking with only two talking heads on the show from here on in, though I wouldn't count on it. Toni Street - endlessly cheerful - is absolutely full of yak.
Street, with any mercy, will be the next to go from the show, leaving Mike Hosking as a solo act, which is what should have been done in the first place - saving a fortune on chairs and, as my mother pointed out, salaries.
Hosking, on Thursday, made some effort to look like he might miss Mulligan. Not much effort, but certainly some.
"What're you gonna do now?" he asked Mulligan, not really wanting or even waiting for an answer.
"Have fun without me," were, I think, Mulligan's last words on Seven Sharp.
Hosking passed him that chocolate rabbit and a bottle of something strong in a bag and tried to look a bit sad, though that must be almost impossible with his face.
It was all so upsetting I tried to distract myself by changing channels and watching The Three Day Nanny (TV3, 7.30pm), a new British series about taming beastly brats with the aid of someone who looks like Mary Poppins, though she doesn't sing, thankfully.
I hadn't really wanted to watch The Three Day Nanny, but it didn't give me any choice. It was a TV tar baby. I was stuck. I had to know how things turned out with those terrible twins and their desperate shattered parents.
I had to know if the nanny - a cliche in a tweed jacket, riding an old-fashioned bicycle with a basket on the front - would save the day. She did, of course.
In this Thursday's episode, she'll be fearlessly facing down a terrifying set of girl triplets, so wild and crazy that one of them appeared to be levitating with rage in the teaser they played.
In following weeks, I suppose it'll be homicidal quads and quins.
And meantime, I'll put money on Hosking being all alone with Seven Sharp come Christmas.
Mother will be pleased.
