YOU say you are playing Candy Crush Saga? I pity you. I pity your artless fumblings with basic sweets and your pathetic attempts to clear lines.
Because I, who yesterday attained level 2,361 of The Saga, am playing at a level far beyond anything your feeble mind and fat, poking fingers can possibly conceive of.
I am no idle player who gets their phone out while waiting at Burger King. I do not play while simultaneously watching Coronation Street. I am committed.
You think merging a wrapped candy and a striped candy is impressive? Matching two colour bombs? Your lack of ambition disgusts me.
I have seen candies you people would not believe. I have matched candies which glow with colours not of this universe. I have brought candies together so powerful that I must avert my eyes from the screen as it burns with the light of many suns.
My techniques are so practiced, so subtle, that the most advanced artificial intelligence would not understand them. I think not five or ten, but five hundred candies ahead. I never lose.
So ask me not if I am playing Candy Crush, you miserable worm. I am Candy Crush. It is my final form, my alpha and omega, the sum totality of my being.
Though sometimes, to relax, I play Bubble Witch 2 just to pass the time.