Mum has bogs-blokes in the palm of her hand (like putty),
When there's the pre-shift anticipation of getting up her gutty.
Late eighties mum, getting bum nailed by John Barnes,
Penilly comparable to the arms of hands of farms.
Mum's sole purpose and function,
Is to take it repeatedly up the crap junction.
call the pope and tell him the news:
my finger came off in your mother's cooze.
This Black Friday
Mum’s offering groups of 10+ blokes a 50% discount on ‘getting their end away’
Perhaps unfairly, mum's interpretation of "thin,"
Is anything less than "upturned wheelie bin."
The future may be uncertain
But mum will almost certainly require an anal suture for bum hurtin’
Dad's bragging about his freshly made ravioli,
But there are strong suspicions that it contains something unholy.
Dad's entering Masterchef and hoping to be the winner,
He's sure to make an impact with his lovely roast dog-shit dinner.
As usual, dad's occupying a watching brief,
Bogs-sidelined, with his hands down his briefs.
