Pudenda poetry.
Mum feels like it's simply "bad optics," If she takes on any pricks that are not thicks.
There's no part of your mum that could be termed 'uncharted territory', Your dad in 'Bad Cock Weekly': He's the lead story.
Mum's in the bogs every night doing bum-stunts; Dad? Claims (implausibly) that he "did sex once"
Your mum's in constant demand in the train station bogs, despite her face resembling 'a box of frogs'.
Dad’s perving round the primary schools of Nantes Luckily for les enfants, his gens are the size of an ant’s
During dad's weird dinner consisting of monkey-mum shit pellet, he pulled a hoover from his arsehole and motioned you to smell it.
Not only has your dad got an abysmally small 'little dingle'; His favourite music format is still 'Cassette Single'.
Working the Annual Centaur Convention bogs has taken its toll, Mum's left with the balance and mobility of a newborn foal.
In 1972, dad represented Great Britain in the Paralympics, Winning gold in the 400 metres breast-stroke: category 'men with no pricks.'
For recipes, your dad consults the ghost of Fanny Craddock, Via weegie, Aunt rejuvination (twat-haddock).
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