Sex, the City and Me deals with an important, compelling subject (the persistent sexism in the City of London) and has a very good cast. It begins very well, with the characters addressing the camera directly, in an almost Brechtian manner, shaking up the conventions of TV drama. It's also brave in that the central character is pretty unsympathetic, but we are forced to side with her.
But then something goes astray. The clichés come out: the two-faced boss; the boorish, alpha-male colleagues; the ice-maiden HR boss; the adoring nerd; the vile American; the back-stabbing younger woman; even the hippyish sister who doesn't have the big bonuses, but is happy. The husband is so wet, you could grow cress on him. The only character who defies these out-of-the box tropes is Sarah Lancashire's solicitor, who is unconvincing, but at least you can't predict exactly what she's going to say and do after five minutes.
The final resolution is simply ludicrous, a deus ex machina ploy that's set up, left hanging, forgotten about, then thrown in just when we think everything's done and dusted.
This is an issue that many still don't take seriously. It's a pity that we need such a lazy, unambitious script to make it palatable to a mass audience.