FFS!? Friday: Can I Help You?

Cheap shit toys. 'Nuff said, am I right? FFS. But in order to share the FFSness of it all, I filmed the main culprits of craptasticness for your own ear bleeding inducing enjoyment: You should thank me, or rather, my camera - the poorly sound recording doesn't do the volume of these sadistic little bastards justice (or maybe it does...).
First up, a FFS!? for outing my messy, sandpit encrusted yard on the interwebz.
Another FFS!? for showing Mstr3 on the interwebz with a gash on his head.  The poor little dude tried to ride a sandpit truck and instead went face first into the paving.
Mini FFS!? because I laughed my ass off at the visual comedy gold when it happened, unaware that blood had been drawn.
What are they even saying?
"Call me baby, call me...Colin?" Okay, I will: Colin - STFU! "Ay yi yi....Can I help you?" No, no you bloody can't.  Not unless you can tell me how to permanently disable you. FFS. These toys, they creep up on you when you least expect it. FFS. Every time I think I've got rid of them....the Twin Tornado emerge from the toy room with another one. FFS. Clearly they breed.  Multiply.  Mutate to even more irritating voices and songs than the previous model. FFS.
They will be the only things left roaming this earth one day.  Them and cockroaches. FFS.