Oh, my family (especially the Allen part of it) what a clumsy lot you were!
"Pass me the Sevres bowl, will you, darling."
"Certainly. Shall I toss it across? Oh drat, it's in smithereens."
"Never mind, dear- a touch of araldite and it'll be as good as new."
Only it won't, will it? It'll look a fucking mess. It was pretty little thing, not to mention valuable, and you threw it around and knocked bits off it and then clumsily glued it back together and stuck it on the mantlepiece as though nothing had happened- and it breaks my heart to look at it. I'm not exaggerating. The majority of things in this house- and especially the really decent things- have been fucked to buggery. It makes me cross (Perhaps you can tell.)
Here's what a charming and valuable 18th century Derby figurine looks like after having been curated by the Allen family. No head, no feet- and notice the finesse with which the goats back leg has been put back together.
Really, my family, you don't deserve to have such pretty things!