Do You Think It's Possible

This, Milord, Is My Family's Axe. We Have Owned It For Almost Nine Hundred Years, See. Of Course, Sometimes It Needed A New Blade. And Sometimes It Has Required A New Handle, New Designs On The Metalwork, A Little Refreshing Of The Ornamentation . . . But Is This Not The Nine Hundred-year-old Axe Of My Family? And Because It Has Changed Gently Over Time, It Is Still A Pretty Good Axe, Y'know. Pretty Good.

Tiffany Knew What The Problem Was Immediately. She'd Seen It Before, At Birthday Parties. Her Brother Was Suffering From Tragic Sweet Deprivation. Yes, He Was Surrounded By Sweets. But The Moment He Took Any Sweet At All, Said His Sugar-addled Brain, That Meant He Was Not Taking All The Rest. And There Were So Many Sweets He'd Never Be Able To Eat Them All. It Was Too Much To Cope With. The Only Solution Was To Burst Into Tears.

I'd Rather Be A Rising Ape Than A Falling Angel.

And It Came To Pass That In Time The Great God Om Spake Unto Brutha, The Chosen One: "psst!

I'm Mean And Turf And I'm Mean And Turf And I'm Mean And Turf And I'm Mean And Turf, And Me An' My Friends Can Walk Towards You With Our Hats On Backwards In A Menacing Way, Yo!