G.R.R.M can go eat a llama’s dick at this point. I’m almost past caring – not totally because I’m posting this, but almost. He’s got thousands upon thousands of people hanging on his every word – literally on his every written word – and he’s screwing them over every day he delays. Every. Single. Day. And fuck that notion that he owes ‘us’ nothing. We made him, him and his colossal fucking ego, with every book bought, whether it’s ASOFAI or elsewise. He’d be nothing without us. The moment he published the first book he entered into a contract with his readers to provide us a journey and a destination and nothing short of his death should prevent him from delivering on his end of that arrangement – and even then his notes should be formatted and released ASAP after the shit he’s pulling – and yet here we are, the fat bearded bastard laughing his arse off on some demented ego trip while disappointing his legions of devoted fans. I used to be one of them but now he can suck my sweaty balls. He can finish the series whenever he damned well likes, I’ll not buy another product with his name on it. I’ll torrent the shit out of it when someone gets around to transcribing it though, when I can be bothered. Fuck you, George, you arrogant lollygagging cunt. Fuck you with a razor.