When Hodor gets a dildo in ‘Game of Thrones’: “Oh my God, look at the size of it!”

I had just gotten over my embarrassment when the props department called me in.

“Kristian, we need to decide which prosthetic limb to use,” they said.

Oh my god, there’s more than one? There were actually two: one was a slightly lighter oak color, with thick, dark, curly African-like pubic hair. Is anyone kidding? I thought. Surely they would know by now that with a last name like Nairn, I would be half Irish, half Scottish with a shade close to Arctic blue. Luckily, the one Paul was holding was more similar—much paler, but not pale enough.

However, as soon as I saw its size, I said to Paul, “I can use it as a windbreak!” Sixteen inches of strange, hard plastic that looked like a hollow dildo.

“And it doesn’t even match my skin tone!” I protested.

“Don’t worry, Kristian. Makeup will take care of that. We’ll match it to your skin tone after we use it,” he explained.

The second time the prosthetic came out was not long after we started filming. I arrived at work to find actor Richard Madden, who plays Robb Stark, dancing around the Paint Hall studio parking lot like a mischievous leprechaun. He was holding it in both hands and shaking it enthusiastically like a garden hose. It was obvious he had stolen it from the special effects department.

“My God, look at how big it is!” he shouted to the small crowd of assistant directors and janitors, all of whom were laughing hysterically. “There you are!” he shouted to me as I approached.

“Thanks, Richard,” I smiled. I understood the humor in the way it was intended. And I’ve gotten to know Richard better since then. I like him. He’s a jokester who never fails to make me laugh. But that morning when I looked at everyone’s faces, they were all laughing. with he, no In him. Or so I thought. I don’t know if people are that nice. I’m anxious to find out. Actually fear that

The prosthesis is attached by a thin wire—a sort of undignified G-string, tied tightly around my back and butt before it’s braided. At some point, some poor post-production asshole will have to airbrush it away. My butt will probably be in their face for hours. I don’t want to think about that for too long.

Now a bottle of glue and a paintbrush appeared.

“I think it just needs to be braided?” I asked Paul nervously. In all our endless conversations about this prosthetic, no one had mentioned glue.

“It’s going to be a long time. It needs to be safe,” Paul replied. I could tell by the way he lowered his voice that he was treading carefully. That’s right. Don’t make a fuss, Kristian.I thought so, but damn, it hurt. The glue was applied in stubborn clumps that pulled at my pubic hair before it spread into the surrounding area. I needed more Red Bull, and fast. Luckily, a can had been delivered. It was the only thing I had objected to so far. I had reached my limit on cafeteria coffee, and the food service had kindly started stocking me with energy drinks. They had nicknamed me “The Red Bull Guy.” I was alternating between sipping my lips and stuffing a warm bacon sandwich into my mouth.

With the pubic hair braided and the glue applied, it was time to paint the prosthetic. This seemed to take forever. From my vantage point, all I could see was the top of Paul’s head and his brush and puff working underneath. Every now and then, he would stand back with his hands on his hips to admire the view before rummaging around on the table for another foundation. He would go back down. This is a day of humiliation, get used to it, Kristian.I think so.

“Okay, done. Ready to move to the studio.” Paul finished with a dramatic bow and handed me back my bathrobe.

“Not too bad, huh?” he said.

“Uh… okay,” I replied shakily.

Done. Damn it. It’s time.

Excerpt from Beyond the Throne: Epic Journeys, Strong Friendships, and Unexpected Stories by Kristian Nairn. Copyright © 2024 by the author. Reprinted with permission from Hachette Books, an imprint of Hachette Book Group, Inc.

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