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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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Well, yet another week has passed us by.
And thus, a new week begins. What fun.
Yes, it's Monday, which means Big Band rehearsal. This is getting like Twitter.
HAI GUYS, I'M HAVING A POO! PLEASE RT!
Oh my. That certainly wasn't what I expected.
That's because you're a lady, so I'm told.
I thought that we were being Twitter. Sorry.
Don't worry nights. Any more bowel movements yet?
This game pre-dates Twitter, doesn't it? More, nights?
Nope, I've finished being stupid now. Thank goodness.
Bowel movements are one of life's simple pleasures.
A bit like stealing your neighbour's newspaper, apparently.
What, the Daily Mail? Associated with bowel movements.
Sorry, was irritated that my Libération was missing.
That just serves you right, you dangerous pinko!
Mwahahaha! Forward, socialist agenda! Sorry, got too excited.
[nights] Goodness me you're excitable! I wonder why...
Perhaps because it's nearly the weekend. Good news.
Indeed. I'll bake a thousand mince pies tomorrow.
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Want to play? Online Crescenteering lives on at Discord