Mum has several large gin and tonics,
Before sorting out the thin and thics.
There's your father, knob like half a guava, again - blokes-related-trouser-palava;
He keeps your mum in the basement, and starves her.
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.
Mum's nuclear twat now powered by Dounreay;
Dad's attempting to fuck a 'Pay and Display'.
Bogs-blokes' "true meaning of christmas",
Lies in the rapid and violent erosion of mum's poo-isthmus.
Mum's gut,
Is 87% "bloke-nut."
Mum's produced a stunning photographic time-lapse;
Of hundreds of men prodding her fucked prolapse.
Arseholes of mum's calibre,
Are for bogs-blokes, akin to Excalibur.
Not for the first time, mum's made herself something of a sexual spectacle,
She was all over the papers this morning with the discovery of her having a strange 'pubic hair crop circle.'
