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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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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.
Pen, I believe that a thousand is exaggerating.
OK, 900 is more accurate. They're hungry here.
Baking!? Surely they have M&S in Southern Dutchland?
More seriously, can you get Robertson's mincemeat there?
[INJ] Bet she makes her own. Goody Two-shoes.
I know. I hate those who out-Christmas Christmas.
Bzzzt! First "Christmas" mention. Defcon level two (/eight).
Mince pies? Yuk! Fruit cake and pudding? Bleaurgh!
Do you sell more beer at Christmas, Phil??
Christmas beer is really very good here. Mmm.
Beer is very good everywhere, except keg stuff.
But Beer in your keyboard definitely isn't good.
[penelope] Oh yes, yes, yes, very much so!
I hope there's beer in my Christmas stocking.
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