And just like that, we had come to the end of And Just Like That (Sky Showcase, Thursday). The second series of the Sex and the City reboot (reboutin? A little shoe-based punning for the ladeez there), had promised an all bells and whistles finale with the return of fan favourite Samantha Jones, played by Kim Cattrall.

Cattrall’s turn was listed in the credits as a “special appearance” but it was hard to see what was remarkable about it. Sitting in a car supposedly driving through London, Samantha called Carrie (Sarah Jessica Parker) to say she couldn’t make the reunion dinner party in New York after all. I say “called Carrie”, but Cattrall could have been on the phone to anyone or no one. A brick wall even.

That couldn’t be that, could it? It was.

Some things have worked in this series (Aidan returning), some characters were barely two dimensional. Like the reboot overall it was more reflective, less fun than the original SATC. That’s getting older for you. I still think it has the legs for another trot around the block, but next time, make the heels higher.

A certain style of narration has become standard in true crime podcasts. You know the one. Calm, measured, the speaker almost whispering into the mic as if the information being disclosed is for your ears only. Listen, the tone suggests, we are engaged here in a serious pursuit of justice. Exploiting tragedy? Us? Never.

For a masterclass in how crime should be reported I would point any filmmaker in the direction of Matt Pinder, whose previous works include Murder Trial: the Disappearance of Margaret Fleming. His latest two-parter, Murder Trial: the Disappearance of Renee and Andrew MacRae (BBC Scotland, Tuesday), looked at one of the biggest unsolved murder cases in Scottish legal history.

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It was a case that had huge coverage at the time, but no-one was brought to justice. Now, after a new investigation, William MacDowell, 80, was on trial accused of the 1976 murder of Mrs Macrae and her son Andrew, three.

Photographs and footage took the viewer back almost half a century to a Scotland of long ago. Yet one glance at Renee’s sister, Morag, and her husband showed the pain of their loss had not diminished one iota.

The prosecution and defence set out their cases and witnesses were called to give evidence. No drama would dare be this low key, but these proceedings did not need any theatrical flourishes. It was all there, in the words and in the faces of the family.

This was the first of two episodes. Both are now on the BBC iPlayer, or you can watch the second part on BBC Scotland on 29 August, and on BBC2 on 4 September. Highly recommended.

Former pub and club singer Jane McDonald has parlayed an appearance on reality television into a 25-year presenting career. She clearly has something about her, but what? All was finally revealed in Jane McDonald - Lost in Japan (Channel 5, Friday).

READ MORE: Scotland's Home of the Year, the final

“I’m travelling alone but won’t be lonely,” she told us at the start of the 6000-mile journey from her home in “Wakey” (Wakefield). When she eventually landed she was still perky and raring to go. The same approach sustained her through visits to a Shinto shrine and a deeply weird restaurant where the staff were dressed as comedy French maids.

Everything was declared amazing, the public toilets especially. “Look how clean it all is,” she marvelled in a station loo. Later she donned a fat suit to go sumo wrestling and, inevitably, ended the day with a karaoke session. Still smiling.

Her travel advice, it is fair to say, was on the basic side. Did you know that it’s a good idea to buy tickets for attractions before you go, thereby avoiding queues on the day?

This no-frills, Shirley Valentine style is McDonald’s charm, and it’s why she makes a good travel companion. If you are a not-so-adventurous traveller of a certain age (tick), and you value a clean toilet (double tick), then Auntie Jane will see you right. Couldn’t take a fortnight of her, mind you.

The Price of Truth (Channel 4, Monday) was a humbling watch. Patrick Forbes’ documentary about the Russian journalist and Nobel winner Dmitry Muratov began with a train journey from Moscow. As Muratov settled down for the trip, a thug burst into the carriage and drenched him in what looked like red paint.

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Welcome to journalism in Putin’s Russia, where a refusal to toe the official line can mean death, jail, and disablement (in Muratov’s case the liquid had been laced with acetone that burned his eyes).

The cameras followed as Muratov and his team battled censors and shutdowns to report the war in Ukraine. Eventually, most of his team had to leave Russia for their own safety. He has stayed.

This big bear of a man would be the last person to see himself as a hero, yet that was the unavoidable conclusion after watching this gripping, terrifying, film. Dmitry Muratov: remember the name.