How to explain to House of the Dragon over coffee that you can't do this again

GAME of Thrones prequel House of the Dragon is here, acting like you are into it and nothing has changed. Take it for coffee and explain it’s not happening: 

YOU: Hi…

HotD: Hey! So wow, I’m back and better than ever? Miss me? Like I even have to ask?

YOU: Yeah, so about that. I watched the first episode…

HotD: And were just so blown away. The budgets, the writing, the sheer f**king quality of the acting. You were like ‘woah, I didn’t know how badly I needed this!’ Did you notice I’m blonde now?

YOU: I did notice that. Really blonde. Like super-super blonde. It doesn’t work on you.

HotD: Okay. Criticism. Wasn’t expecting that, but we can build from it. After all, I’m going to be part of your life for the next ten years.

YOU: Glad you’ve brought it up. You see, I just don’t think I’m ready to let a fantasy epic back into my heart again. After it ended so badly last time –

HotD: Uh-nuh, we agreed we wouldn’t talk about that, remember? Turning over a new leaf and everything? I’m not that guy anymore! I’m set 200 years earlier! We couldn’t be more different.

YOU: You don’t feel different. You feel like the same old kings and dragons battling for the Iron Throne bollocks you always were. And yeah you came in all fancy, but before too long I’ll be watching three people who can’t act playing characters I can’t remember walking through a f**king field.

HotD: But… dragons! A jousting tourney! Vile, gory scenes of women being killed for male ambition! A scene in a brothel with loads of tits in?

YOU: Exactly. I’ve done it. For a while I even thought I enjoyed it. But I can’t do this again. Sorry. You… you need to go. Sorry. Goodbye.

BARISTA: Okay, that seemed really awkward.

YOU: Tell me about it. And I’m back here in two weeks with Lord of the Rings. 

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Knackered old toys incredibly precious once destined for charity shop, children decide

CHILDREN who have forgotten unwanted old toys cannot live without them the moment they are going to the charity shop. 

Any bag spotted by the front door instead of being immediately removed to the car boot will trigger a wave of nostalgia, longing and devotion that overwhelms any eight-year-old mind.

Seven-year-old Tom Logan said: “No! Not my dinosaur puzzle! This is my favourite toy EVER!

“And my glittery teddy I got at the school fayre! And my fire engine where the sirens only make a gurgling noise! And my broken lizard robot! I love these toys so much!”

Mum Emma said: “He has not touched any of that shit in literal years. If I’d managed to get it in the car, not only would he not have noticed it’s gone, he’d have denied it ever existed.

“While he’s distracted with the Kit-Kat I’ve thrown in the garden while shouting ‘Fetch!’ I’ll sneak his marble run and all those f**king WWE figures into the car before love swells in his annoying childish heart once again. I blame Toy Story 3. 

“I should do this with all his books. Then he might actually read something for a bloody change.”