Ruined flotsam, then jetsam.
Mum's got them 'orrid tits that sag,
An's fucked rahnd the bogs like an old doll (rag).
Dad's entering Masterchef and hoping to be the winner,
He's sure to make an impact with his lovely roast dog-shit dinner.
Mum’s once again won quadruple gold at the Sex Olympics
In the ‘100’, ‘200’, ‘400’ and ‘10,000 pricks’
Mum won’t settle for anything less
Than being completely covered in dog mess
Mum doesn't even wince,
As her arsehole's ground into mince.
Mum's received a smorgasbord of colossal-farmhand gush
And now her arsehole and twat are a sloppy, indistinct mush.
mum: rated 'Hardcore'
dad: Barrymore
Outside the bogs, dad sees the snaking lines of blokes queueing to take mum from behind,
And he can't help but get the sense that, in his marriage, he's been marginally sidelined.
The state of mum's shitter is far from impeccable,
But it remains, to bogs-blokes, eminently fuckable.
Mum fondly recalls long summers working the public bogs of Montpellier;
There were some seriously big fella there.
