Re-chart my hairy territory
Dad's ramming his stinking man-meat In a chatGPT simulated shit-pleat.
Mum's got a nuclear-test cunt (unholy terminal glow), Dad's got radiation sickness (his fuck stump still won't grow).
Mum finds it β€˜necessary but boring’ To attend the complex series of bogs-committees set up to ensure her maximal bum-boring
Mum's star status as an internationally renowned bogs-slut may be dimming, But she's still capable of taking an absolute "brimming."
Mum appears not to have even the most basic grasp of economics, But she certainly knows what to do with "thicks".
Trading standards don't take long to spot that Dad's ice-cream van is 'not fine'; As confused kids emerge with Liquid shit dribbler cone with a poo-'99'.
In the 'occupation' section of the most recent Census, Mum simply wrote: 'getting fucked in the anus.'
Mum's not that fussed about tinsel and baubles, She's focused, as usual, on dogshit and bumfulls.
Dad's doing the rounds with a dubious penile schematic Implying 'coke-can width' and erections 'not problematic'.
Dad's canal towpath flashing victims have got the giggles, At the sight of his maggot that barely wiggles.
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