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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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Leicester sounds a bit cheesy to me, though.
[Softers] Then it follows that they're communist revolutionaries.
Leicester is precisely twice as cheesy as Gloucester.
How do you able to conclude that, Rosie?
Are you referring to my cheesy humour, Rosie?
You need to double Gloucester to make cheese
North South East West Hearts Diamonds Clubs Spades
Tuj, what's that got to do with cheese?
(Phil, Software) I really meant half as cheesy.
(Rosie) You should post more caerphilly next time.
Frankly, I really do not give an Edam.
Good, because I was only shooting the Bries.
Remember that marvellous cheese game from aeons ago?
Aeons ago? Even I am not that old.
I think we'll be the judge of that.
Can I detect a tiny hint of ageism?
Ageism is unrealistic. There'll always be an earth.
A good earth is important for electrical safety.
And critical for good carrots and healthy parsnips.
I've heard of Electric Prunes but never evegetables.
And there are battery hens and Steam Nuts.
Are your battery hens rechargeable? How's it done?
Electrodes up the bum. Well, you did ask.
We have slipped from vegetables to torture methods.
Not at all. This is but benign revitalisation.
A bit like stringing beans, or chopping carrots.
I vote we kill off this dying game.
Do you not have any heart left, pen?
I've got some liver, if that's any good.
Sausages for dinner tonight, I could spare one.
Personally, I like sweetmeats and all other offal.
You can have mine, although they're already chewed.
[pen] Shurely you never had your own sweetmeats?
Two! Four! Six! Eight! Please do not self-immolate!
Why shouldn't I? This room is bloody freezing.
Because there'll be no-one to poke the fire
If I poke the fire I'll be electrocuted.
[Rosie] Do you not have a pet, say?
That is cruel unless it's an electric eel.
Is battery still cruel, even for electric eels?
Fish from my local chip shop is battery.
I bet they overcharge for it too, Rosie.
Fish and chips for tea tonight. Hurrah!
+ 'Yummy'
(Softers) Yes, but there is too much anyway.
Only two more days in Blighty before home.
Does that mean you are going Dutch again?
Nope. Fish and chips is very, very British.
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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