Utterly destroy my arsehole.
Dad shouts loudly "one size fits all,"
On his learner bra market stall.
living in constant fear,
of your dad's promise to gape my rear.
Mum and bogs-blokes are caught in an ugly war of words,
About the correct usage and application of dog-turds.
Dad’s protests about lapsed copyright are rather silly
(Arrested in the public domain, dressed as Mickey Mouse for showing kids his ‘Steamboat Willie’)
Mum's photograph albums are a veritable treasure trove,
Of appalling images of her cunt and arse stove.
It's almost as if mum's designed,
To be fucked from behind.
Mum's off to the GP,
Seeking clarity,
On how and where from she omits poo and wee.
You've got
an abysmal mott.
Bum-docs stuck in endless sisyphian cycle of patching up mum's shitter, only for her to run straight back to the bogs to get spatchcocked by yet another giant willy?
Si.
Dad's prone to telling a porkie,
About the size of his 'stalkie.'
