Cue in: two people, pretending to be in love in order to get into a fancy restaurant.
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My new favourite template.
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Wait, wait, waitwaitwaitwait, I have to speak this into the universe before the bit dies:
Goncharov in the Discworld.
And because this is the Discworld (which is flat and turns on the back of four giant elephants on the shell of Great A’Tuin), and therefore lives on the edge of reality, the play is real, in a shadowy, strange sort of way. It certainly exists, in the place where belief creates Hogfathers and tooth fairies, and people have definitely watched it — er, well, there are people who say they’ve watched it, or that they know a friend who watched it. In fact, it’s quite hard to find anyone who’s actually watched the thing, but everyone else is happy to go along with the bit.
Almost everyone — Moist Von Lipwig has played into the bit like a master, and will lie blue in the mouth that not only did he see the play, he starred in a production of it in his youth. Sam Vimes, on the other hand, has had a migraine for the past week.
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