Before I saw Game of Thrones I thought it was just a series of books about dwarves and dragons, which I’d already read, really, in the form of these masterpieces by Enid Blyton:
Why waste my time? She did the whole thing so well when I was seven… how anyone could possibly hope to improve it was beyond me.
Little did I know that my world was about to be turned upside down. Game of Thrones is awesome. I repeat, awesome. I fell it love with it. And if you haven’t seen it… well:
That’s right. Nothing.
But I’ll tell you here why Game of Thrones is waaaaaay better than Enid Blyton.
1. Enid Blyton doesn’t have Tyrion
Tyrion has done big things for little people. Whereas I appreciated Big Ears and the way he was so protective over Noddy that he slept in his bed every night (ahem), Enid Blyton did not give her best-known dwarf any swords. Big mistake.
Big Ears is described in the books as having a “white beard, red cap, blue jacket, red-and-white striped jumper and yellow-and-green trousers”, whereas Tyrion has “stubby legs, a jutting forehead, mismatched eyes of green and black and a mixture of pale blond and black hair.” Big Ears sounds sexier, right? But Big Ears had no swords. No one wants to fuck Big Ears.
2. Enid Blyton only had golliwogs in the woods
Golliwogs, or rather Enid’s depiction of them in some stories were naughty folk who ran about the brush causing trouble – a bit like the Wildlings, who are considered savages by the rest of Westeros because they worship the Old Gods of the Forest. But you don’t see the Wildlings putting up with being banished.
That’s right. Golliwogs were banished. They called it ‘being politically correct’ but in the early 1980s, ‘new and improved’ editions of Blyton’s Noddy books banished Mr. Golly, the golliwog proprietor of the Toytown garage, and replaced him with a white man called Mr. Sparks. Gasp. If those golliwogs had had a few Wildlings on their side they’d have been up and over that fucking wall giving Toytown and Mr Sparks some seriously well deserved shit. She should’ve put something really barbaric in the woods.
3. Enid Blyton’s dragons were rubbish
That’s right. Lame. Look at this dragon, all limp about the neck and pot-bellied. That blue one up top isn’t as good as I once thought either. They probably can’t even fart a stream of paprika, let alone burn a man’s face off with a volcanic, projectile-explosive burp.
And as for Mr Wumble… well, he’d never march forth to live out his birthright as the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms with that overgrown lump of prehistoric obesity on his shoulders. No. As the last of the Targaryens, Daenerys needs a REAL dragon. And a real man now, to be honest. Fuck you, Mr Wumble.
4. Enid Blyton’s chairs were too basic
There’s a lot to be said for a chair that flies you off to magical worlds, like the Wishing Chair in Blyton’s wondrous classic, but what good is that when there’s a bloody war to be won? You have to stick around and fight. If you want a good fighting chair, forget the feathers. You put some fucking SWORDS on it. You put some iron on that shit.
The Iron Throne was crafted from the 1,000 swords surrendered by lords to Aegon in the War of Conquest, and then melted down by the breath of his dragon. Imagine if Mollie and Peter and Chinky and Quick Fingers had given an evil Kingdom feathers?
“Oh we’re terribly humbled, golly gosh, here, do have some feathers.”
Fuck off with that. You can’t melt a bird’s plumage into a chair to be reckoned with and you can’t chop anyone’s head off with a feather either. They’d be dead in a heartbeat. Honestly.
5. Enid Blyton’s families don’t fuck
You never saw anyone in Blyton’s Adventure Series have so much as a snog. This was OK, because it was all about brothers and sisters, BUT… and I quote… “Lucy-Ann is the youngest of the group. She has the same red hair, green eyes, and freckles as her older brother Jack, who she absolutely adores and can’t be without for a minute. When Jack has to go to Mr Roy’s house to be crammed, or coached, she goes along too—not to work, but to be with him.”
Just what are we saying here, Enid? At least Game of Thrones leaves no doubt about such family matters; worrying as they may be. Queen Cersei and her brother Ser Jaime Lannister have been screwing each other since childhood. There’s no second guessing what’s occurring in their world when we can actually see them pounding genitals in the barnyard. It’s gross, but at least we know. Maybe this Adventure Series would’ve been as big as the Famous Five, if you’d eased our minds a little more about Lucy-Ann and Jack?
There are way too many spoilers for Game of Thrones Season 4 out there already. But don’t watch them. Go read some Enid Blyton instead and be grateful that something better is coming up. Er… not that we don’t love Enid. God rest her soul.
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