Playground dad arrested halfway out of his cycling shorts,
Wibbling about little green men "trying to steal his thoughts".
In their hot little hands an 'alien stool',
roswell team unaware: dad's lost his 'fuck-gruel'.
Mum’s interests have lately grown
Increasingly focused on ‘aggressively, in the brown’
Dad's tween-trouser area: thin and shit,
it remains a constant challenge: trying to make it transmit.
Dad's captain,
Of Team Thin.
There is a mention in a biblical epistle of your Mum's pungent, misformed twat gristle.
Mum reneged on her marriage nuptials,
Not long after her wedding ceremony, in the gents toilet cubicles.
Mum wears bloke's excrement,
As a kind of bogs warpaint.
Dad mistakenly believes it to be his prerogative,
To make the local playground "sex-positive".
After reaching the 1989 "Anal Superstars Free-For-All Mega Bugger Championship" winners podium,
Mum was advised to take approximately half a kilo of imodium.
