Jon Snow is still dead. His excrement has congealed, maggots are feasting on his eyeballs, Ser Davos can’t be in the same room as him without dry heaving and the Wall is starting to melt thanks to the gaping hole in the ozone layer, created by his corpse’s fetid fumes. It’s fucking disgusting. The Night’s Watch is just about ready to lob him on a fire, but they have to wait for some other, seriously inconsiderate story arcs in the episode to finish beforehand. What possible reason could there be to prolong his body’s disposal?
As you’d expect, there’s plenty more going on in the Game of Thrones that requires our attention, some of which will make you feel like you’re playing a fucking memory game. Remember Bran Stark? We haven’t seen him since season four, yet he’s still stuck in a tree with that raven guy. I think it’s a tree, anyway. Whatever form of plant life it is, it clearly has hallucinogenic qualities because they’re both high off their tits, having visions of a time when Hodor could say more than ‘Hodor’ and was called Willis.
Meanwhile, in a less Scottish location, Cersei has been banned from attending her own daughter’s funeral. That doesn’t seem like a wise decision, since she’s now walking around with a zombified Mountain who, moments earlier, stoved in a drunkard’s head for pissing on his armour. Fair enough. At the same time, Jaime is having a bit of a standoff with the High Sparrow because he’s sick of the sight of his Ebenezer Scrooge robes. The old cunt has been wearing them since we first met him. They probably reek as much as Jon Snow.
Speaking of Reek, he and Sansa are still hiding out in the icy woods. God knows how she hasn’t died of hypothermia yet. Last week she was negotiating a freezing cold river and now she’s got icicles dangling from her twat. The only reasonable explanation is that someone’s supplying her with tea and soup between takes. That definitely seems preferable to being anywhere near Lord Ramsay, who takes his bastardy to new levels by murdering his father and letting dogs chow down on his newborn baby brother. That Joffrey guy wasn’t so bad, was he?
Moving on to somewhere warmer, Tyrion has managed to talk himself into a petting session with the two captive dragons. There’s a bit of stroking involved before he lets them out for a proper play. He lets the dragons out, too.
How about the Iron Islands? You’ve been raring to revisit that marshy shithole, haven’t you? Well, the King’s brother tosses him off on a bridge. What? Oh sorry, I meant his brother tosses him OFF A bridge. So yeah, he’s dead now. Devastating.
That brings us back to the main event: Ser Davos asking The Red Woman if she ‘knows of any magic’ that might bring back Jon Snow. That’s literally how he says it, like he’s asking for ointment for a rash. Well, whatever she rubs into his chest must be fairly potent. Combined with a revitalising haircut and rinse, it helps to bring the guy that was definitely dead back to life.
As far as resurrections go, it’s a fairly disappointing one. If all it takes is a belly rub while saying the alphabet backwards, then death really shouldn’t be a big deal in Game of Thrones anymore. I was just surprised she didn’t strip off for once. The sudden rush of blood to Jon’s knob might have reanimated his corpse long enough for him to plonk himself on a dragon next to Daenerys and Tyrion and melt all the White Walkers. That’s not a spoiler. I’m not psychic. I know nothing.