Dad feels there's some kind of shadowy woke agenda,
Out there to stop him from being a child sex offender.
Bogs life isn't complex, there aren't many moving parts,
It's basically blokes nobbing away, up where mum farts.
Dad's been going round merrily telling everyone he'd managed an erection,
Sad really, his clinging to these Walter Mitty-style fictions.
Dad's queued up a kid-vid playlist,
For a good long fiddle with his "prick that, technically, doesn't physically exist".
Weird little relax dad (on the stereo: Acker Bilk),
Shortly followed by a flaky emission, reminiscent of powdered milk.
Dad was ejected from the Paedophile Information Exchange
For being ‘too creepy and sexually strange’
put any future possibility of sexual pleasure out of reach,
by completely dissolving my genitals in bleach.
Mum feels wronged,
When she isn't getting "wronged".
The clock is ticking,
On dad's willy ever thickening.
Mum's produced a stunning photographic time-lapse;
Of hundreds of men prodding her fucked prolapse.
