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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 not sure. How much do you know?
he knows more than he's letting on. maybe.
I really don't know what's going on here.
It's all on a need to know basis.
I don't wish to know that, oh no.
I think Tuj's real name is John Major.
Who are you calling Major in here, Rosie?
[Rosie] That's hard for a twenty-one-year-old to take!
Fair enough, I never fancied Edwina Curry either.
Nor me, but maybe she's a good shag.
Change of subject. My, what a gloomy weekend.
I appear to have lost a vowel somewhere.
I expect you left it on the train.
[Rosie] Less likely if she has a care.
pen is without a care, not a car.
[Rosie] Are you implying that pen doesn't care?
Quite right. I don't. Off to Holland tomorrow. :D
Auf wiedersehen! No, wait... Bon voyage? Hang on...
Pen? Have you come back from Holland yet?
Yup, back, but 'flu. It stole my holiday.
Football, though, steals the brain, which is worse.
Flu abated, hacking cough, but still off work.
I'm always off work but have to attend.
I do not recognise this thing called "work".
Come now, chaps. Are you lost for words?
Buy me a couple of pints, I'll talk.
That wouldn't get you far in Guantanamo Bay.
Eight words. Beef pie, carrots, cauliflower, gravy. Yum.
Rosemary foccacio, terrine de campagne, raw fennel.
I must have been trying to cut down.
I have a hunger for some proper paté.
Bray's farm pork pies are the very best.
Are they Irish pork and dioxin farm pies?
They insist on only the very best dioxins.
One should always insist the dioxins are organic.
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