"This is the ninja zombie room"
Fruit Tingles aren't what they used to be. For 5c (three for 10c), you once got a roll of lollies as thick as a flashlight. Its paper and foil wrappers came away together in a single motion, having been designed to make surreptitiously emptying the contents into a blazer pocket as easy as possible. Although the Tingles were enormous, a teacher could never spot you eating one as long as you slipped it into your mouth while pretending to cough. Scientists are still trying to understand why this was, but the fact remains that no student was ever caught. Anywhere. Sucking an FT - while providing 100% of the daily requirement of vitamins and minerals, as well as cleaning the teeth more thoroughly than the best dentist - induced a meditative state similar, though far superior, to that achieved by Tibetan monks. Prized speckled Tingles had the further effect of permanently increasing the IQ by a point. Chewing all flavours simultaneously, it was discovered, granted the ability to fly unaided for 30 seconds. This last property caused the sweets to be banned by the federal government, citing airspace congestion. The inevitable backlash was a modern-day "children's crusade" in which a hundred thousand young FT fans from across Oz marched on Canberra and razed Old Parliament House to the ground (what's there now is just a replica). The United Nations stepped in and decreed that Fruit Tingles be devolved to their current form - coloured sugar with a hint of fizz.