A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms: This gloriously gross comedy is Game of Thrones at its best | TV and radio

TGame of Thrones has borne fruit once again, like a bountiful oak tree. Where is there left to go? The stunning opening, in which a lumbering bird takes a dump behind a tree, gives us an idea. Chronologically, A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms (Monday 19 January, 9pm, Sky Atlantic) falls between the original juggernaut and its courtly prequel, House of the Dragon. Tonally, it’s in a world of its own.

This idiot eventually gets a name: Dunk. Contrary to expectations, Dunk is a knight. Specifically, the “Hedge Knight”, a low-status class whose kind cannot afford to survive and must sleep under trees. We are simply reminded that “any knight can make a knight.” This lack of gatekeeping has led to a caste system where the brave and noble despise their wretched brethren. They are knights in name only, and only. Of course, there is nothing just about it.

My jaw was open throughout most of the first episode, as I wondered what game HBO was playing. Set largely in a featureless swamp, the film follows Dunk in his meaningless isolation, apart from three horses he speaks to as equals. He’s clearly stupid, broke, and naive. He misses his father figure – the recently deceased, elderly, alcoholic knight who beat him. There is a Beckettian melancholy to this vision. Like much of Beckett’s work, it is also a comedy.

This is, on the surface, a simple story. Dunk takes a trip to a “tournament” – a jousting competition where he hopes to prove himself. We follow his attempts to get on the ballot, given his untold lineage. He falls in love with a girl and participates in a tug of war. He’s hindered as much as he’s helped by his new sidekick, Egg (Dexter Saul Ansel) — a bald, prepubescent boy who sticks up for him at an inn.

With six short episodes, the creators aren’t pumping hot air into George R.R. Martin’s original novel. (They avoid the mistake of the previous Hobbit films, which stretched their story, and the audience’s patience, into what felt like 200 hours of psychedelic dragon shenanigans.) Since we’re talking about scale, we need to talk about Dunk. Apparently this man had Paul Mescal father a child with Reacher. I had to buy a larger TV to fit it on the screen. He is played with great heart by Peter Claffey, the former rugby union player from Galway. Combined with Egg’s fragile personality, you have a classic comedy double action formula.

It’s fun to be wrong, especially in a high-stakes project. I was reminded of Rian Johnson’s The Last Jedi (although it’s more like Heath Ledger’s A Knight’s Tale). The creators intentionally subvert expectations of greatness or heroism. Scenes are interspersed with our hero Dunk being called big, thick, or out of place by his bosses, his children, and random secondary characters. He went into the door frame at one point, twice. By asserting himself by controlling Egg, he verbally outsmarts him. “Don’t run away or I’ll chase you with dogs,” he orders. “Where are you going to get the dogs?” comes the fake innocent response.

But like its main characters, this is a story full of surprises. She shrieked with laughter, before a series of revelations turned the tone again. The series reveals the deeper game she was playing, deftly judging when to show her hand. Details might spoil the ride, but, as you’d expect, Claffey has his own Ugly Betty moment. He grows into a towering moral compass.

The Knight of the Seven Kingdoms may not be a sprawling myth but it is about family and inheritance. Of course, Westeros fans, like Omaze players, rave about the gorgeous houses. They’ll be thrilled by Daniel Ings, who chews the scenery as Lionel Baratheon. The Targaryens are also sliding into the city in crisis, having lost a number of their sons on the way to Ashford – perhaps not the former Eurostar stop in Kent.

This is Game of Thrones at its best. A rich and politically complex meal, with aspects of bone-breaking violence. Its boldness has stayed with me, as what began as rough slapstick became a poignant exploration of true nobility, survivor’s guilt and goodness. The oof has ethical fiber in its diet. No wonder he needed this unloading.