Tweezers.
Your mum's on Karaoke: appalling, 'doo-woppily', dad's playing wrong-monopoly, massively sloppily.
Mum continues to go from strength to strength, In her capacity to take further width and length.
It’s time for the Annual Bogs Penis Contest and Dad’s scores are in: Girth: 0 (atomically thin) Erection Strength: 0 (blancmange out of a tin) Length: -2 (actually going in)  Appearance: 0 (mostly crusty foreskin).
Big gents-bloke going at it from a particularly tight angle, Causing further destruction to mum's 'pubic triangle.'
Blokes find it hard to fault, Mum's poo-vault.
I've talked to the men at the top, they insist your mother be smothered in slops, There's some movement on this: bile, shit, or half-brewed horror-hops.
Unfasten my bra… with hilarious consequences
Mum's gens: air sock, Dad's gens: nothing there cock.
Mum considers it her contribution to the community To offer a go on her bum’ole at every opportunity
Mum: still accommodating more blokes despite bum status: full Dad: crashed the "Willy Size Database" (Length = NULL)
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