Dad's on the speccy playing Horace Goes Skiing,
When not thinking about kids, and sex-weeing.
Dad is peerless,
In his pursuit of the hairless.
Standing room only on Mum's double-decker bumper bigblokes bus
Destination sign reads: BOGS OR BUST
Bogs-blokes have got zero impulse control,
In and around mum's arsehole.
It’s time for Mum’s bogs year in review
In which she overall felt blokes’ performance was enthusiastic but felt she could have spent more time smeared in dog poo
Mum's always been more of a 'taker' rather than a 'giver,'
Hence her arsehole resembling a bucket of chopped liver.
At the orgy of TV detectives,
Your eyesight was not defective,
The well-mannered and deferent Albert Campion,
Declared your Dad the bum-fisting champion.
There's absolute pandemonium,
Either side of mum's perineum.
Dad realises an existential junction,
Has arrived with his erectile dysfunction.
Mum: Entirely doused in wees
Dad: arrested after writing on census under 'sex': "child please"
