“We can talk about this later” may be the least efficient rejection in television history. Gordon is on one knee at Megan and Rumi’s wedding, surrounded by friends, workmates, alcohol, and every other ingredient required for a public catastrophe. Ashley does not say yes. She also avoids saying no with enough force to stop the humiliation. The room understands. Gordon catches up eventually.
The third and final season of Colin From Accounts returns to that proposal before jumping forward three years. Ashley is now a practising doctor, while Gordon arrives at her clinic for a medical examination. They have apparently spent those years apart, and their reunion has none of the reckless energy that brought them together in the first place.
That original meeting involved Ashley flashing Gordon, Gordon hitting a border terrier with his car, and both of them becoming responsible for a $12,000 veterinary bill. The injured dog became Colin From Accounts, a name with the administrative dignity every disabled terrier deserves. Their relationship grew from the accident, survived two seasons of poor judgment, then stalled under the weight of Gordon’s proposal.
Season 3 returns the show to a familiar romantic question. Will Ashley and Gordon get back together? The answer appears obvious from the moment they share the clinic, yet the scene finds tension inside that predictability. These are two people who remember each other’s rhythms and can no longer enter them without permission. Three years is a long time to rehearse being normal. They last several minutes.
Three Years, One Waiting Room
The clinic reunion works because Harriet Dyer and Patrick Brammall resist playing it as a grand rekindling. Ashley and Gordon speak with the careful politeness of former partners who once knew everything and now have to ask basic questions. Their pauses are too long, their replies too measured, and each harmless exchange carries the possibility of stepping on something buried.
Gordon’s account of his recent business history contains the line, “Turns out axe throwing and drinking don’t mix.” It is a good joke. It is also a compact report on a man whose confidence has outlived his judgment. Brammall delivers it with Gordon’s familiar shrugging dryness, turning financial failure into pub trivia before Ashley can offer sympathy.
Dyer plays Ashley’s discomfort at a quicker speed. Her instinct is to fill silence, redirect attention, and keep professional control of the room. The awkwardness comes from watching her medical composure compete with old intimacy. Gordon can still knock her off balance without raising his voice.
The three-year jump sends the series back toward the shape of its first season. Ashley and Gordon are separated, attracted to each other, and surrounded by people who can see the problem before they do. The difference lies in what both characters now know. Their connection is proven. Their ability to maintain it remains highly suspect.
Each has a new partner. Ashley is with David, played by Thomas Cocquerel, a handsome pickleball enthusiast who works at a fish market, forgets to shower after shifts, and licks his fingers. He is also allergic to dogs. For a series named after a dog, this is less a character trait than an eviction notice.
Gordon is dating Chelsea, played by Nikki Shiels, whose intensity has earned her the description “full on.” She rejects the phrase with admirable clarity: “You haven’t even seen full on, Gordon. I have done a lot of therapy to stop you seeing full on.”
Both characters produce good comic friction, yet they are written with warning labels attached. David’s smell, habits, and allergy make him easy to dismiss. Chelsea’s volatility places her in the same disposable position. The season wants Ashley and Gordon’s reunion to feel difficult, then declines to give either replacement partner enough appeal to make separation costly. A romantic triangle needs three credible points. These look suspiciously like arrows.
The Pause Between the Joke and the Hurt
Dyer and Brammall remain unusually skilled at letting a joke expose the emotion beneath it. Their dialogue can move from mockery to hurt within a single exchange because neither performer waits for the scene to announce the change.
The clinic sequence depends on that control. Gordon’s axe-throwing remark earns a laugh, then leaves behind the fact that his professional life has gone badly. Ashley’s questions sound routine until her attention lingers on details she has no professional reason to care about. The actors do not turn these shifts into speeches. They let tone do the paperwork.
Their work as the show’s creators and writers gives the dialogue a tailored quality. Ashley speaks in bursts, often trying to escape embarrassment by producing fresh material. Gordon waits, watches, and answers with a line that appears casual until it lands. The rhythm resembles an argument conducted by two people pretending they are having a chat.
The real question is no longer romance. Attraction was settled somewhere around the $12,000 dog bill. Season 3 asks what that attraction means after three years of distance.
Ashley has completed her medical training and established herself as a GP. Gordon has absorbed professional setbacks and remains capable of making failure sound like a mildly disappointing menu choice. Their lives have changed. Their reflexes around each other have not.
That distinction gives the early episodes their emotional weight. Gordon and Ashley recognise each other immediately, but recognition can be a trap. It can signal compatibility, habit, unfinished business, or the comfort of finding someone whose damage already has a key. The show wisely leaves all four possibilities in the room. Then someone says something filthy.
Sydney’s Least Qualified Support Network
Ashley and Gordon might spend hours analysing their feelings if the supporting cast allowed it. Fortunately, their friends and relatives have plans, opinions, children, political organisations, brewery problems, and very limited patience.
Megan and Rumi remain central to Ashley’s life after hosting the wedding where Gordon’s proposal detonated. Emma Harvie gives Megan the weary authority of a friend who has heard every version of the story. Virginia Gay’s Rumi brings a larger, stranger energy, applying new-age confidence to situations that would benefit from less confidence of any kind.
Neither indulges Ashley’s attempts to turn romantic confusion into a private tragedy. Their impatience keeps the episodes moving and prevents the breakup from becoming sacred. Misery may want soft lighting. Megan has somewhere to be.
Gordon receives similar treatment from Chiara and Brett, played by Genevieve Hegney and Michael Logo. Their long history with him gives them the right to mock his romantic decisions without requesting background information. Scenes involving the pair retain the workplace looseness that helped earlier seasons avoid trapping Gordon and Ashley inside a sealed romantic plot.
The show’s family comedy remains sharper. Ashley’s mother Lynelle and her husband Lee continue their involvement with the men’s-rights movement through Women Against Women Against Men, mercifully shortened to WAWAM. The acronym sounds like a toddler attacking a drum kit, which suits the intellectual standards involved.
Helen Thomson plays Lynelle with complete conviction. She does not present the character as someone who knows she is absurd. Lynelle believes she is speaking from a position of urgent moral clarity, and that certainty supplies the joke. Darren Gilshenan’s Lee shares the mission, creating a household where every family conversation risks becoming recruitment material for the manosphere.
Justin Rosniak’s Heavy also returns with the blunt social instincts of a man who can reduce a romantic problem to its least flattering detail. His remarks about David’s smell and finger-licking carry the vicious efficiency of family feedback. Nobody requests it. Nobody escapes it.
Then there is Colin, still scraggly, scarred, and largely uninterested in the emotional damage happening above his head. The dog rarely drives the plot, which has always been part of the gag. He brought Ashley and Gordon together, then became the silent administrative record of every mistake that followed. David’s allergy to Colin makes the symbolism almost indecently tidy. Even the dog has read the script.
One Last Walk Around the Block
Co-directors Trent O’Donnell and Madeleine Dyer preserve the series’ conversational pace across the first four episodes. Scenes are allowed to breathe through interruptions, awkward asides, and pauses that become funny because nobody knows who should end them.
The half-hour format helps. Ashley and Gordon’s relationship can sustain repetition because each episode leaves room for the ensemble to disrupt it. A reunion scene gives way to a family intrusion. A sincere exchange is interrupted by a humiliating detail. Someone attempts emotional honesty, and someone else mentions fish.
This rhythm keeps the final season from feeling solemn about its own ending. There is affection in the writing, yet the series refuses to treat Ashley and Gordon as romantic royalty. Their friends are tired of them. Their families are dangerous. Their new partners have arrived carrying visible expiry dates.
The three-year reset also gives the season fresh pressure without discarding what came before. Ashley and Gordon are older, professionally altered, and still capable of reverting to their old roles within seconds. The separation creates distance. Their chemistry keeps cancelling it.
That chemistry may also become the season’s hiding place. David and Chelsea are shaped so clearly as temporary obstacles that the road back to Gordon and Ashley already has traffic cones around it. The remaining episodes need to prove that reunion reflects change rather than exhaustion.
Only four of the eight episodes were made available for review, leaving the final movement unseen. The setup is sharp, the timing remains intact, and the cast still knows how to make affection sound like an insult. The missing question sits beyond chemistry, jokes, and one extremely patient dog. Have Ashley and Gordon learned anything, or have they simply run out of people willing to date them?
Colin From Accounts is an Australian romantic comedy series that originally premiered on December 1, 2022. You can watch the show on platforms like Binge and Foxtel in Australia, BBC iPlayer in the UK, and Paramount+ in the United States. The third and final season premieres on July 27, 2026. The series follows Gordon and Ashley, two flawed, single individuals brought together by a car accident and an injured dog, forcing them to deal with their vulnerabilities together.
Where to Watch Colin From Accounts Season 3 Online
Full Credits
Title: Colin From Accounts
Distributor: Binge, Foxtel, Paramount+, BBC Two
Release date: December 1, 2022
Rating: TV-MA
Running time: 30 minutes
Director: Trent O’Donnell, Matthew Moore, Madeleine Dyer
Writers: Harriet Dyer, Patrick Brammall
Producers and Executive Producers: Alison Hurbert-Burns, Trent O’Donnell, Patrick Brammall, Harriet Dyer, Brian Walsh, Lana Greenhalgh, Rob Gibson, Ian Collie, Kevin Greene
Cast: Harriet Dyer, Patrick Brammall, Emma Harvie, Helen Thomson, Genevieve Hegney, Michael Logo, Tai Hara, Glenn Hazeldine
Director of Photography (Cinematographer): Emma Paine
Editors: Danielle Boesenberg
Composer: Matt Blackman
The Review
Colin From Accounts Season 3
Across the four episodes provided, Season 3 turns a three-year separation into fresh comic fuel without pretending Ashley and Gordon have suddenly become functional adults. Harriet Dyer and Patrick Brammall keep every pause, interruption, and bad decision alive, while the ensemble treats romantic misery with the patience it deserves: very little. David and Chelsea feel engineered for disposal, and the final four episodes still have to earn the promised farewell. For now, the reset works. The dog remains innocent.
PROS
- Dyer and Brammall’s precise chemistry
- Sharp overlap between comedy and hurt
- Excellent returning ensemble
- Confident half-hour pacing
- Strong three-year reset
CONS
- New partners feel disposable
- Reconciliation looks heavily signposted
- Final resolution remains unseen
