Game of Thrones, A Man Without Honour, review I can't stand the "previously, on Game of Thrones" section that Sky Atlantic has bunged in front of the opening credits. What is this outrage? I have not paid attention through sixteen hours of complicated fantasy intrigue to be patronised in this manner. I want to be thrown, as usual, into the deep end. I want people who have not seen it before, who sit down "to see what the fuss is about," to feel completely bewildered and wander off to watch "The Voice" on iPlayer after ten minutes. It's also incredibly long. At this rate by the end of the series the "previously on" section will be about three hours long, and we'll never get any further with the actual series. Anyway, on to tonight's episode, which was terrific: intelligent, moving, neatly plotted. Mostly it was driven by intimate conversations, rather than big action set pieces. Beyond the Wall, poor old Jon Snow (Kit Harington) concentrated so hard on not snogging Ygritte (Rose Leslie) that he ended up getting himself captured. She's rather a good addition to the cast, Ygritte - lively and not given to talk of oaths and the old ways. What attracts her to self-doubting Jon, who looks permanently on the verge of tears, is beyond me. I suppose he's a better option than his sometime quasi-brother Theon Greyjoy (Alfie Allen), who as best I can tell has never, ever, kept it in his trousers. So far this series he's slept with a captain's daughter on a boat, groped his sister and now had a romp with Osha (Natalia Tena) the wildling. The last of whom then escaped with Bran (Isaac Hempstead-Wright) and Rickon Stark (Art Parkinson), sending Theon completely bonkers, and meaning that to rape, torture, incest and infanticide by swords, we can now add infanticide by fire. Poor kids. Yet for all the horrors - Jaime Lannister (Nikolaj Coster-Waldau) beating his own cousin to a pulp was another grisly highlight, as was the mass throat-slitting in Qarth - there was also a lot of warmth. The series' ability to bring you round to those characters you instinctively like least is maybe its most impressive quality. Tonight I felt for poor Sansa (Sophie Turner), shocked by her first period and the thought that Joffrey (Jack Gleeson) might now be able to impregnate her. I've found Sansa a bit of a weed, but after the attempted rape in the riot, and now this, I felt deeply sorry for her. I even felt sorry for Cersei (Lena Headey), as she shared with Tyrion (Peter Dinklage) her thought that perhaps Joffrey's cruelty was the result of her incest. She explained to Sansa that loving people makes you weak, and therefore vulnerable. Perhaps what makes so many people susceptible to Game of Thrones: all of the characters, even the incestuous child-killers, are somehow loveable.