Once again, dad's on sex-pest parole,
In his bedsit flat, listening to Snow Patrol.
Hundreds of bogs-blokes with the soul aim to further mar
Mum's uniquely grotesquely-fetid vaginal 'salad bar'.
Mum may come to regret working with her latest employer;
It's the infamous Ivor Enormous One, Slayer of Twat and Arsehole Destroyer.
Even though his penis has been medically proven as inneffectual,
Dad's still classified by police as a 'dangerous homosexual.'
Catastrophic bum injuries that might normally give rise to feelings of grief,
Instead seem to almost bring mum a sense of relief.
Mum's perineum,
Is no longer premium.
Bedroom - nightly, an esteem-battering scene.
Full intercourse a no-no, so resort to the ream.
(You bat for both teams).
Mum's bum looking extremely haggard,
Bigblokes are running her ragged.
Dad? Sexual laggard.
Mum's smiles as she glances back down the queue of bogs-punters;
There are plenty more "bummers" in than "cunters."
Even if completely incorporeal, gaseous life exists on other planets
Dad will still be 'the organism which is most sexually inadequate'
