Denis Leary’s darkly comic drama series about the members of a New York City firehouse was something that sprang from the aftermath of 9/11, and showed how these men (and occasional women) of fire went about their lives in the aftermath of that event. Early on in the show’s life it made it fairly clear that experiencing such a thing is going to mess with the minds of a group of emergency service workers. Grief, anger, sexual dysfunction, infidelity, mental illness, substance abuse – and then in episode 2…

By Season 4, we have seen Leary’s Tommy Gavin go through the ringer, a string of destructive relationships, a marriage in various stages of destruction, and a world of death. Still he manages to maintain his sardonic disposition and the show continued to maintain a strong sense of place, moments of levity (mostly thanks to John Scurti’s Lou, a great comic actor doing great work here) were coupled with intense action and real drama. But there’s something lacking in the fourth season. Now struggling with the 12-step program, Gavin has to resist temptation and deal with his ancillary bullshit that comes from being raised Irish Catholic and having the libido of a bull elephant in heat. His colleagues have their own issues, again with death, sex, booze… And it gets to a certain point where reflecting as each episode in the season passes, that we’ve seen all this before. I would have thought that they were winding down proceedings, but when Season 5 arrived in the mail, a sticker on it suggested that a new season – the sixth – was coming soon to the FX network.

Perhaps they’re not all done. I hope they find their footing in Season 5, and I swear I have not lost hope, as this once-great series has found itself gradually dissolving into the ether. (And here is the point where I would insert some awful bit of metaphorical wordplay about a fire burning brightly and being extinguished and it smouldering, but I’m way too classy for that).