There’ll be time enough to write Mad Men’s obits when it’s finally done, but for now it’s worth pausing to note that this is the start of the last run of one of the best TV shows of all time, and having stuck with it since the start I’m certainly not bailing now. Incidentally I’m not buying for a second this nonsense about splitting season 7 of Mad Men into two parts; it’s almost a YEAR, for heaven’s sake, since we had the “first part”, which effectively means that on just about any other show this would be regarded as a discrete season. Perhaps it doesn’t matter, but it annoys me.
As ever showrunner Matthew Weiner has been keeping everyone involved on the shortest of leashes, and almost nothing has leaked out about what’s going to happen. Which, “teasers” be damned, is how I like it. British viewers are only a few days behind American transmission – which, of course, is also how I like it – and even if latterly the show hasn’t quite managed to live up to its first four seasons there’s no shame in that, because the same could be said of most other shows in the history of TV. So: drumroll, please; for the very last time, it’s Mad Men (tonight, Sky Atlantic, 10pm).