Game of Thrones, season three, episode four, review In a smoulderingly febrile episode of Game of Thrones, during which "Shakira" Targaryen (Emilia Clarke) finally gained the army she's longed for, and the Night's Watch combusted into murderous anarchy, one question loomed larger than any other. It concerned a matter of grave and sober import that is likely to trouble viewers for many episodes to come. Face it: they've been flirting for weeks now. What was that sword fight on the bridge two episodes ago, if not a symbol of suppressed mutual lust? And the way Jaime heroically lied to save Brienne from being raped by their captors... It fair made the heart melt. Tonight Brienne, with maternal briskness, scolded her incestuous sociopathic hunk out of the self-pitying torpor into which he's slumped since having his hand lopped off. (You may recall the writers" crafty piece of foreshadowing from season one, episode two, when Jaime learns that he's failed to kill little Bran. But even if the boy lives, he would be a cripple, a grotesque. Give me a good, clean death any day.") Elsewhere, Tywin Lannister (Charles Dance, magnificently gruff) made clear to Cersei that he considers Jaime his heir. Of course, the Jaime that Tywin loves so much is the Jaime who is a peerless swordsman. Not the Jaime who at best can stagger about clutching his sword in his left hand for five seconds or so before being kicked in the guts by a rabble of bearded mercenaries. Will losing his hand also lose Jaime his status as heir? Still, it should at least be good for a couple of "hand of the king" jokes from the Imp. Speaking of whom: if a biopic is ever commissioned of Martin Amis, the lead role must go to Peter Dinklage. Not because of his height (well, not only because of it), but because of his voice. That delicious drawing-room drawl, twanging with irony... It's uncanny. People may scoff at the Imp now, but wait till they read his brilliant new satire of 21st-century urban manhood, "Keith Yob." It'll take the Seven Kingdoms by storm.