Prior to the pandemic, Netflix and I were on pretty casual terms. We'd enjoy the occasional cosy night in, but, frankly, it was nothing serious and I frequently pondered if we should call the whole thing off.

But in an era where outside activity has been heavily curtailed, we have become seriously intimate. Saying 'no' is no longer an option.

Because I have watched a truly staggering amount of TV over the last year and a bit.

We have romped through comedies, courtroom dramas, reality TV, heist adventures, big-budget period pieces and a certain odd piece of documentary-making about a bloke who kept tigers. The production talents of companies in Spain, France, Germany, Japan and even Brazil have all been enjoyed and the quality of dubbing admired.

Put it like this, if I was binge eating at the same level I binge-watch, I would now be one of those chaps who needs a crane to lift me off my bed and needing some clever mirror work to spot my feet and other extremities.

Yet as much as my relationship with Netflix has blossomed, it's ability to lead me on and then crush me with some regularity is beginning to highlight some cracks in our love-in. I'm talking about it serving me up several seasons (remember when we used to call them series?) of a show only to discover, as I ponder just how on earth all the loose ends are going to be tied up and questions answered, it has been cancelled.

Now, granted, I could - and no doubt should - have consulted Mr Google before starting on a show to check I would not be left hanging - but doing that runs the risk of some huge spoiler headline. (If, like me, you were rewatching the previous Line of Duty instalments so you remembered what was going on as the latest series rolled on, then the internet practically became a no-go zone.)

Plus, perhaps naively, I assumed a big player like Netflix wouldn't suggest I watch something without delivering the all important denouement.

And I apply that rule regardless if it was churning out the shows from its own production line or buying them in from traditional broadcasters. If regular TV channels didn't think it worth pursuing, don't give it to those of us paying our subs.

Granted, if The Crown decides not to return then I can live with that. I know what happens to all the key protagonists (brace yourself Diana fans!). And, in truth, German time-leaping extravaganza Dark could probably have quit after season two, for the sense the baffling final series made.

A fine case in point - and there are a number - is The OA. A somewhat bizarre - but ultimately fascinating - mystery drama starring Brit Marling and Jason Isaacs. After some initial misgivings, the show really grew on me to the point of some very late nights ploughing through the episodes. In short it was some truly excellent, odd-ball, telly.

But then... on a glorious cliff-hanger I went to my search engine of choice to see when the next season was due only to discover it had long since been consigned to the TV dustbin.

Apparently the story was supposed to unfold over five seasons. It made two.

It was like reading a book for days, getting hooked, only to realise someone had ripped out the final chapters as the publisher didn't think anyone would want to know it's ending and the author shot for good measure.

Or then there was Salvation - a US show about an asteroid hurling towards the Earth. After two series and just as, finally, the celestial object can be seen by the naked eye, the show stops. Axed after two seasons. The object hung in the sky much as my jaw did in stunned shock that we'd not find out what happened. That's the best part of 17 hours of my life I'll never get back.

Another fine example is Colony - the sort of show I'd normally avoid as it was a little too dystopian and alien-y - but having drained the swamp of so many, the appeal of catching up with actor Josh Holloway (he was Sawyer in the sublime Lost) proved the draw. Plus, Netflix lured me in by trumpeting the arrival of season three only this January.

If, my logic told me, Netflix was proudly announcing its third outing now, surely it was very much alive and kicking?

But no.

As I subsequently discovered, the show's third instalment aired on a US network in 2018 and was cancelled by it moments later. In short, Netflix had pulled the proverbial wool over my now square eyes. Again.

I can understand it to a certain degree. After all, TV doesn't come cheap in this day and age. And if shows don't pull in the figures, the axe is only a short swoosh away.

Yet while Colony, for example, had to satisfy ravenous US TV audiences in a prime-time slot, shows like The OA are Netflix originals. As a result, if it doesn't pull in big numbers in its first few weeks, the chances are it will be something of a slow burner. Something to stumble over and enjoy and slowly massage Netflix's notoriously secretly-guarded audience figures.

After all, you don't buy a Netflix subscription for a lot of unfinished TV shows. Although, it seems, clearly we do.

The lesson I've learned from all this? I definitely need to get out more or Netflix and I are going to fall out.

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