Be the prison sex-raffle prize.
Dad’s having a fit of pique
After being described accurately as ‘small of prick’
You hadn't even got undressed,
And you were on the phone to the bloody press.
Dad's penis: subatomic particle with no mass;
Mum's pants: A blend of twat and shit gas.
With Dad’s gens, it’s very much ‘what you see is what you get’
(Something that looks and acts very much like a quarter inch of overcooked spaghett').
Mum’s given up on Kama Sutra and ‘trying different positions’
Nowadays she’s escalated to spicing up her sex life with bum-targeted use of cluster munitions
Squeezing and squeezing,
I can't do any more.
But my Mum's still hungry.
(Why oh why can't I poo any more?).
No one can ever really right the wrong,
Of dad's primary school Summer Fayre thong.
Mum's the local receptacle,
For all the local testicle.
Mum’s offering men an alternative to the Sony PlayStation
Namely ‘enthusiastic, protracted anal penetration’
Mum's brought so many blokes off with her boobs,
They have basically become cubes.
