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Each Move Must Consist Of Precisely Eight Words
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Just as it says on the tin. What happens in the game may be debated in the game: perhaps it'll be a conversation, perhaps a word-limited reprise of various games we play, or whatever.
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I'm a year older than a week ago.
A year in a week! That's time-lapse, pen. Appy burfdy.
Little pleasure in eight words: beer and crisps.
I mean 'small pleasure'. That meant the opposite.
Beer and crisps, beer and crisps. Beer. Crisps.
I think I'm really ready for a holiday.
Playing cricket on a Tuesday afternoon, in sunshine.
[Phil] Do you still have a job? Nights?
[pen] Yes I do. It's rather flexible though.
Are we running out of eight words? Sad.
Novel octets are
Extraordinarily
Hard to keep going.
I disagree, sir; I find them quite easy.
Blimey! Is this still going. I am amazed.
I've finished making my telescope, the Mk II.
Can you see the pub from there, Rosie?
I'm afraid light travels in boringly straight lines.
Put a black hole near the pub then.
I want to get home again, you know.
Shit or get off the pot. Any more?
Or shall we call it a day now?
That's most unladylike - did you mean the po?
Feminism.
Is that a typo (or 'typot') Rosie?
Kids sit on the pot, adults the po.
There's a fabulous shaggy-dog story about a pisspot.
Unfortunately there are only eight words available, pen.
It starts with a down-at-heel adder, I remember.
Who starts to do much better in life
It sounds like the cue for a limerick
Hang on, you don't know how it ends.
And one of the adder's longstanding friends boasts
that he's known him for a long time.
More details in the next exciting instalment, folks!
Loth as I am to interrupt the flow . . . . .
Go on... and I really hope it's important
Of course it isn't - please carry on, pen.
He knew him from his days of penury
This is an extremely shaggy dog. Enough yet?
Shaggy enough to make a big woolly jumper?
It's not an adder, it's a boa subtractor.
Did that spring to mind at night, Rosie?
For me it was late evening, I confess.
Anyhow, the done-good snake's reminiscing friend evenutally says:
Fun fact- I'm writing this from my PlayStation.
Go on, pen. I'm agog, despite the hour.
"Oh yes, I've known him for so long...."
"I knew him when (this may surprise you)..."
:He didn't have a pit to hiss in."
Tonite (sic) I am going to a jazz gig.
I've written eight words for your reading pleasure!
[Rosie] Well then, eight word gig review, please!
There's a wasp in my office. In November!
Saw two butterflies in my garden only yesterday.
Another unquestionable sign of the impending end times?
(Tuj, belatedly) The New Delta Band played their arses off.
The first eight words of the New Year.
At this slow rate, we'll have summer soon.
Fair old stretch on the evenings this week.
It will soon be my birthday, so there.
They say it'll snow but I've had none.
Me neither but it is brass monkeys outside.
The brass monkeys are queuing to get in!
Signs of spring. You can list them here.
Magpie carrying twigs this morning, from kitchen window
Why do you keep twigs on your window?
For making twiglets. Doesn't everyone have twigs handy?
I used to, but they were pretzel twigs.
I didn't try Marmite until I was 19.
Ma might have been looking after your health.
I hope Mamma laid on alternative spreads instead.
Jam jam jam jam jam jam jam jam!
Low fat cream cheese, the sweet chilli flavour.
On bread, I mostly like marmalade and honey.
You and I are as one on that.
Jam jam jam jam jam jam jam jam...
I gather you have just left the M25.
Jam, jam, jam, jam, jam! I've grown accustomed....
Amazing things can emerge from extensive jam sessions.
This game seems to have been largely forgotten.
But eight words can bring it to life.
If only we could work out which eight.
I wonder if it is one of these?
OED random word generator suggestions: implex, quickhatch, profligation.
If only I knew what these words meant.
The second is uttered while impatiently awaiting chicks.
The first's the building where Santa's team works.
The last is someone who gives bondage classes.
Should we find another list of random words?
Pack my box with five dozen liquor jugs.
Random? It seems the monkeys have typed Shakespeare. Er, sorry Raak, old chap.
OED random word generator II: topsoil moellon toughly
Great name for Public House: Pug Pup Pub.
Or how about this one: The Starving Starling?
Expanding on Raak's: 'Satan, oscillate my metallic sonatas'
I seem to have stalled three games. Sorry.
Nail gnats, Aesop, or pay apropos East Anglian.
Hidden textCould we make a game out of this?
Big gnat? Small ogre? "Ergo Tango, gnat ogre!"
Hmmm. Re: bum sag - Rosie is "orgasm über"
Known. Ten animals I slam in a net.
Time for another seven words, I suppose.
I can handle posting eight, so can you.
It's taken ages to find the right eight.
I have just found another eight lying around.
Here's three more.
I must find five to make it right.
Ha! Chance would be a fine thing, Phil.
Je suis en le France avec mes amis.
J'ai parlez Francais com un vache Espanol, Oui.
'Dwi'n siarad Cymraeg fel Saeson, mae'n ddrwg geni.
Three words saying it's Thursday? Friday minus one.
Weekend minus two? Monday morning minus four? Yuk!
One, two, miss a few, ninety-nine, one-hundred! Coming!
We must get over this obsession with numbers.
I agree. Let's make it Greek letters instead.
My favourites are zeta, xi, theta and psi.
And I thought you were an alpha male.
Funnily enough, that'th what Catherine Theta Joneth thaid.
Is it lunchtime yet? Did someone mention pie?
Have you got permission to eta pi, pen?
Permission? It's more like Pie et mon droit.
Pun time? If you can't beta them, join them.
One man's meta is another man's poison. Aye.
One man's meat is another man's poisson. Oui.
One man's meat is another man's possum. Beaut!
One man's meat is another man's posaune. Ja!
Hidden textTrombones taste awful, actually.
Have you tried eating troms off the bone?
And chase it down with sacks of phones.
I've just booked a two-night break in Ipswich.
What do you plan to break there, pen?
The monotony and effort of working life, Softers.
Working life? Ah, yes. I can remember that.
Only another 17 years to go until retirement.
The first eight words in October? Really? Blimey.
Some of us are more active than others.
Is there a game for the naturally reticent?
Hidden textDon't answer, obviously.
It's would be the 'No Moves Necessary' game.
I'm busy with other things these days, alas.
Are you grandfathering a new generations of Crescenters?
Grandfathering is easy. I've seven at last count.
Yes, penelope. He's due to be born tomorrow.
Oh my word... back to the future, Grandad!
It's bleddy dark, innit folks? Not very keen.
Oh, there goes "No-Move-Ember". No-one tell you, pen?
[Tuj] I've got the golden ticket. You lose.
A small bonfire planned for tonight. Just because.
Do the clogs understand the Guy Fawkes fascination?
Nope. Most of them don't know about it..
Wingtips, loafers, and trainers, however, love it dearly!
Not to mention winkle-pickers, brothel-creepers, espadrilles and Jesus-boots!
That is quite a substantial list of footwear.
I can only wear one pair at once.
Why wear a pair, my dear old thing?
An odd pair makes me limp, old bean.
That's strange; it's alcohol that makes me limp.
Take the bottle out of your shoe, numpty.
I think limp was intended as an adjective.
Limp can be a noun, verb or adjective!
Whereas a limpet can only be a noun.
Meaning a small wet limp, isn't that so?
Nobody is playing AVMA. Have I upset them?
Happy New Year. Here Are Five More Words.
Ah, so you are still alive over there, Giertrud.
Anyone else alive? I'm suffering death by chocolate.
I'm alive, and undergoing death by condensed milk.
I'm alive and recovering from jet lag, slowly.
I overslept this morning. Got away with it.
Sirius was very bright over Thornton Heath tonight.
Stars over North Wessex Downs were stunning too.
And over Heijningen, but it was bloody nippy.
Surely the stars are indifferent to their audience.
Maybe so - but they look very different tonight.
Why is that? Have you been ingesting substances?
Rosie, yes, I am still alive--sometimes kicking!
Minus six at home this morning. Very invigorating.
You're made of tougher stuff, pen, warmer here.
I have single malt on my Weetabix, Softers.
What? And the sun not over the yardarm?
I think the sun has actually gone out.
Rainy Sunday. Bacon and egg sandwiches. That's all.
The Met Office are now naming Atlantic storms.
I'm naming my bad moods. This one's Aelfsige.
Rain, rain, rain. When will it ever stop?
I'm now part-owner of a 70-year old tractor.
Anything 70 years old should be scrapped forthwith.
My mother might rightly put up a fight.
They don't make them like that any more.
No, they're all diesels (diseasels, colloquially) these days.
Is it spring yet? Is it spring yet?
BOING! BOING! BOING! BOING! BOING! BOING! BOING! BOING!
Starts 1st March, pen. We shall have snow.
How prescient, Rosie. We had snow this morning.
Chicken, fish, four sides ... am so full now.
I must not indulge; I am already overweight.
But I can cook some really good food.
Oh yes, she can. I second that emotion.
I do not have my work head today.
Another Monday morning post, a month later. Pfft.
Woo, Wednesday afternoon, woo! ...woo, woo... woo... Twit.
This looks like the end for one of
the slowest games on record in the Morniverse.
Some things are really worth waiting for. Sometimes.
I think that I see what you mean.
I've got a mate who uses up-speak? Sad.
Imagine sometimes being age bracketed with millenials. Terrifying.
Less chance if you cultivate your grey hairs.
My cat was a millennial, born about 1990.
My millennial falcon was stolen by George Lucas.
Freddie Starr ate my hamster. No, wait, ummm...
It's Summer! It was Winter a moment ago.
(Raak) That's a pretty good definition of Spring.
True English people, nostalgically talking about the weather.
Nostaligic? It's happening right now! There's no waiting!
Spring again. Looks like Summer, feels like Winter.
Shurely not with the Cup Final coming up?
Summer starts on Mid-summers day. Finishes shortly afterwards.
I hope Mourinho cocks up at Man U.
I never wish ill on anyone. Except Trump.
One no trump, doubled, redoubled, went three down.
*waves tiredly from under a pile of marking*
We have had rather a good thunderstorm today.
And another one today (sic) and tomorrow's Thor's Day.
Glad to be of service, don't you know.
Too much pizza. Too much cake. Now sleepy.
Hummmph! European cup boredom has set in already.
Being of the Cambrian persuasion I profoundly disagree.
I didn't leave the house the whole weekend.
Too much pizza. Too much cake. Again? Yes!
Ooooh cake! I need coffee and walnut. NOW!
In fact, I think that's tonight's project. Yummy.
Don't leave that cake out in the rain.
I fear that this sentence will non sequitur.
Did anyone get solsticed overnight or this morning??
Is it Summer? Dense rain is hiding everything.
Well, that's it, the days are drawing in.
Thank goodness. Short nights are short of sleep.
When nights grow longer the heat grows stronger.
Longer days give more time to do things.
Finally out of hospital after hit-and-run...
Hidden textor if hit-and-run is one word: Finally out of hospital after hit-and-run got me.
There's a story behind that, mark my words.
I hope you are well and fully reassembled, Giertrud.
Well, that hot spell did not last long.
Was hot here yesterday - bought a new hammock.
Still sweltering in mad dogs and Englishmen weather.
I'm on hols. Forecast: three days' persistent rain.
Well, it is raining here if that counts.
Nineteen millimetres of rain have ruined my drought.
More rain in August than in July, already.
[Rosie] So sorry about your ruined drought. *snigger*
Radio Four long wave, Test Match Special, civilisation.
American niece arrived safely. Sent her to Amsterdam.
Why you sen' 'er Amsterdam? Wa' she done?
She wanted to see. Ate pancakes, drank beer.
Next week's over-hyped heatwave has been toned down.
I wish someone would tell the mosquitos. Ouch.
There's a full moon Thursday night. Take care.
I suggest you put your trousers back on.
Nobody will see anything - it will be cloudy.
Weather report Jersey: It is quite windy today.
Is your Jersey windproof? Mine has knitted holes.
Next Wednesday looks very hot (at the moment).
It was here, at any rate, old chum.
It was quite sweaty this Wednesday, 27 degrees.
Sweatier here, 29 degrees by all accounts.
We had 31 yesterday. I'm buying discounted sweaters.
28 here, which means I am a sweater.
Somewhat cooler today and windy too, by jingo.
Another 30 degrees today. Thunderstorms tomorrow, I hope.
3 Degrees now. Next up is The Supremes.
My baby love went completely pear-shaped, alas.
Eight words is insufficient for Morningtonesque prolixity, obviously.
People can look stupid in just in eight words.
Eight? Two!
Behold, the full moon beams down at us.
Is it now a waxing or waning sliver?
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