Dad's annoyed at the lack of replies,
To his post on Mumsnet: "Adult Male Learner Bra Size."
Dad's having a bedsit teddy bear's picnic,
And imagining his cuddly toys don't mind he's got a prick that's not thick.
It could be described as 'greedy'
Mum's ambition to contract every form of VD
You fulfilled a sexual dream,
And took on an entire rugby team.
Drive a industrial thresher up my bum
Dad's a kind of cautionary tale,
Of the long-term consequences of willy-fail.
In her younger days Mum made a pretence of wanting romance, conversation and what-not
Nowadays the 'looking for' section of her profile simply reads 'unrelenting pumping of the bot-slot'
Every night, mum wins the bogs-lottery,
Jackpot? Hordes of huge blokes, on the bottery.
Mum will often refer to the bogs hive mind,
For innovation in being screwed in the behind.
Mum's end of shift claim of victory over bogs-blokes is somewhat pyrrhic,
Given that the last bloke she entertained was physically *too* thick.
