By the power vested in me as a certified Sexaholic – a ‘Sex and the City’-aholic, that is – I hearby issue an arrest warrant for Michael Patrick King, the writer/director of the atrociously awful ‘Sex and the City 2’ movie.

For King, the creative genius behind the iconic HBO ‘Sex and the City’ series, has committed a terrible crime – he’s taken four savvy, smart, totally realistic BFFs and turned them into nagging, annoying, dumbed-down shrews on the big screen (barring a few semi-funny scenes with a menopausal Samantha, played by the ageless Kim Cattrall).

Throw in an OTT gay wedding featuring two guys whose disdain for each other was so hilariously played out in the series (and a corpse-faced Liza Minnelli as the entertainment), a junket to the Middle East that’s so out of this world absurd, and a designer costume change seemingly every five seconds (fashionista Carrie Bradshaw, played by Sarah Jessica Parker, and her gals have never been so grossly indulgent), and you’ve got a recipe for sabotage that should make every ‘Sex and the City’ fan cry in their Cosmos.

Then there’s the Irish nanny, played by British newcomer Alice Eve. In case we didn’t get that she’s Irish with the straight out of ‘Darby O’Gill’ phony accent, and the diddle-ey-dee background music that played when she was shown bouncing out of her tank top, King gifted her with the name Erin, allowing Carrie the softball to bat out of the park: “There goes Erin go braless.” Ugh.

Charlotte York Goldenblatt’s sweet nanny has a degree in childhood education and a body to die for, so why Erin would want to care for Charlotte’s unruly tots (Lily is getting bold, and Rose cries 24-7, we’re told) is quite the mystery.

She’s also at the center of one of the more stupid storylines in the film – has Charlotte’s husband Harry taken a serious shine to the young, buxom household helper?  Never mind that we never see a second’s worth of evidence to support Charlotte’s Samantha-inspired suspicion, or that it would be impossible to imagine Harry even thinking about cheating on his beloved Charlotte.

Actually, Harry should’ve set his sights on Erin. He’d be blameless for doing so.  The character of Charlotte, played by Kristin Davis, has been butchered beyond all comprehension by King.

She used to be so sweet and lovably uptight, but now all Charlotte can do is whine about the pressures of motherhood – even though she doesn’t work, lives in a Park Avenue mansion with her divorce lawyer husband (and a closet full of Diors and Valentinos), and has full-time live-in help thanks to Erin.  Get the violins out – not.

We could go on and on about the horrors of ‘Sex and the City 2’ – Carrie transformed into an annoying housewife who doesn’t understand why her hubby Mr. Big might want to veg out on the couch with takeout after a hard day at work; the once cynical and super-witty Miranda reduced to, well, nothing; Mr. Big morphing into Mr. Wimp.

But we won’t bother, and will instead pretend that ‘Sex and the City 2’ – which makes the first so-so SATC movie of two years ago look like a masterpiece – doesn’t exist.

Then we’ll take our pink boxed set of the ‘Sex and the City’ series, and pick any one of the six season’s worth of episodes to feast on.  Because they are the ones that will stand the test of time – and not the sacrilegious attempts to cash in on its brilliance.