Ramsay the Bastard is going to get fucked
I’ve got no time for Theon Greyjoy to be honest; son of Keith, brother of Lily, one-time owner of a chopper Champion the Wonderhorse would wince at and a moaning little prick with bum fluff to boot. But nobody deserves to spend half a series hanging from a cross and being tortured by a man who seems to believe he is channeling his best Hannibal Lecter when, in fact, he’s more Hannibal Smith. For crimes against acting alone, let’s hope Yara Greyjoy’s journey on the fastest boat with 50 killers ends with the sausage eating wrong-un facing a bit of his own medicine. I imagine the ‘iron’ approach to vengeful buggery won’t be pretty.
Joffrey’s been off the Ritalin
The news may not have reached some parts of Shropshire yet, but incest really is a bad thing, especially when you’re too stupid to bag up before plundering your sister. Joffrey’s head-banging turn at the meeting of the Small Council, where he salivated at the prospect of serving Sansa her deceased Brother’s head, was perhaps his most mental moment yet, which is some going, and surely it won’t be long before Charles Dance kicks the piss out of the little windbag. The extended scene with Tywin and Tyrion was, for my money, the best of the series.
Walder Frey: Champion Drinker
When you’ve slaughtered a King, his pregnant wife, unborn son, mother and army after taking the knock over a broken promise, adrenaline is probably running high. But, unless my understanding of time is wrong here, Walder Frey hadn’t moved from his throne for at least two days and still looked relatively fresh for a man who has done two gallons of wine and a full rack of Ox ribs. Either Frey has the constitution of an 23 hand Shire Horse, or his 17 daughters are banging out batches of MDMA quicker than you can say oi oi. Roose Bolton, a man who would have been criminally out of place in the days of Acid House, is almost definitely going to kill his buzz with a sword to the back.
Daenerys Targaryen > Mother Theresa
A few weeks back I reckoned Khaleesi was channelling Madonna’s artistic canon, but with the revelation that she now has a no nudity clause in her contract (whack one in Bree’s while you’re there hey lads?), and her continued devotion to freeing slaves rather than kicking onto Kings Landing and causing some serious aggro, Khaleesi may have jumped the shark. Mother Theresa might have been a latter day saint, but she’s got no place leading an army of nutcase eunuchs, three dragons, a pass/agg lesbian, Conan the Barbarian’s idiot cousin and two cardboard cut out knights into battle. If any pair of tits should be cut, then Jorah and Barristan would get my vote.
Winter is finally coming
After 30 episodes of botched forecasts, the stockpiling of animal hides, whispered threats and that fat fucker Sam bleating like a castrated Ram, it seems that Winter is finally shaking off the cobwebs and preparing to enter the Seven Kingdoms. Obviously, this changes things, so where the non-book readers had imagined Danerys marching on Kings Landing, Stannis Baratheon and the Red Bitch getting strung up, Joffrey being torn to pieces by everyone and Arya Stark leading an uprising, we’re now left to ponder the fact that they might all join forces to tackle the White Walkers. Read ahead or bury my head? I really can’t decide.