how to cope with Game of Thrones withdrawal A week without Game of Thrones makes us feel like this. There is no Game of Thrones this week. Let me repeat that with emphasis - there is NO Game of Thrones this week. This absence is all due to an "alleged" US "public holiday" that "commemorates" the "sacrifice" of those who "died" while "serving" their "country." I'm sorry, but what were they fighting for, if not for my white, middle-class privileged self to be able to sit down in my comfortable home with my big screen TV and ample amounts of processed snack foods and watch fantasy stories about war? What is this, Nazi Germany? Honestly, it's enough to make me want to write to Andrew Bolt to complain. Now before I get whacked over the head by a legion of angry RSL members for being a no-talent ingrate, I would like to point out that I am, in fact, joking. I would never write to Andrew Bolt. But also, I no longer have an issue with Game of Thrones being delayed a week because I realised there is an upside. The delay means the Westerosi bandwagon can roll on for just a little bit longer, and that's enough to make me want to chug Tyrell wine until I puke their house colours. However we must do something to fill this week, otherwise we'll all end up like simpering junkies, shivering on street corners and just begging any redheaded lady who walks past to declare "You know nothing, Jon Snow." So I present to you, a list of 16 Things To Do To Fill The Game of Thrones Void. Invent your own Game of Thrones-themed sport (preferably one that doesn't involve decapitation). My suggestion is Jaime and Brienne versus X. Obviously they've fought off a bear, but how would the intrepid duo go against dire wolves or krakens? Maybe Tom Waterhouse can get involved, he'll need something to do now they've banned live betting on actual sports. Work on your Tywin Lannister death stare. Turn your bathroom into a Jon Snow/Ygritte-style hot tub cave by leaving the shower running to steam up the place. For extra realism, stand outside your house in your underpants until you get "beyond the Wall" chilly. Then race inside for sexy times. Nothing says exotic like slippery floor tiles. Learn the ultimate game for Machiavellian types: chess. If it's too hard, try Monopoly. If that's too hard, try Snap. Actually, Snap is quite an appropriate allegory for Game of Thrones. Examine federal politics with a fresh GoT perspective. Think of the Labor Party as the Starks - after a promising start they seem ultimately doomed. Think of the Liberal Party as the Lannisters - ambitious and bellicose. Of course, that does make Malcolm Turnbull Tyrion. Buy a leech farm and start a DIY blood transfusion service. Make your own Fairfax columnist look-a-likes! Have you ever seen John Birmingham, Roose Bolton or Stannis Baratheon in the same place at the same time? Spend the day replying to any requests with a quizzical "Hodor?." Start a petition to convince Clive Palmer that dragons exist and he should use his ponderous fortune to buy some. Although fans of The Hobbit might argue he's already a bit Smaug-like himself. Burn an effigy of Joffrey in the street. Carry around a plastic mask and go to the shops. Ask for help from a staff member, then use the first moment their attention is distracted to put the mask on. Tell them you're a face changer, press a dollar into their palm then tell them they can find you by yelling "Valar Morgulis!" into their mobile phone. Make a quick getaway before police are called. Rejoice in Game of Thrones' love of a nude shot by giving yourself a breast or prostate self check. Hey, you're likely to outlive anyone in Westeros or Essos so it's important to practice preventative health care. Invent an outlandishly exaggerated title for yourself. At the moment mine is: Natalie Drizzleborn, of House Bochenski, Queen of the Clumsy and the Tactless, Khaleesi of The Office Cubicle, Renovator of Apartment and Speaker of Bollocks. Have a "Who Can Do The Best Olenna Impression" competition in the office by seeing who can drop the most frank yet awkward truth-bombs. Perhaps don't tell HR though. Translate the lyrics of Never Gonna Give You Up into Dothraki and start a new craze called Dothrick-rolling. Or, you could comment on this article with your own suggestions about how you're going to bridge the gaping gap until episode nine. Or, you can catch up with our Game of Thrones recaps