Upstream (like a salmon).
Email a series of iCal invites to all the senior staff at my place of work, detailing the time,location and duration of my bottom-wiping
Here's the meal,
it's freshly plated,
it's a baked potato
(on a bed of shit, grated).
Mum's menu: universally slated.
Jesus, your Dad's really got a nerve,
Attempting to purchase 'Jade's Coffin Pics' with which to perve.
Bedsit dad's watching re-runs of Supermarket Sweep,
Whilst pushing increasingly larger vegetables up his poo-keep.
From quite a distance outside the gents came the whistling of a recognisable tune,
Mum cheerily finishing up her shift whilst warbling the theme song from 'Boon.'
Mum's a pioneer,
Of getting screwed in the rear.
Mum has desperately low standards,
As to who has access to her innards.
Mum’s flaps are long and droopy
Like the ears of popular cartoon dog, ‘Snoopy’
Mum's seeking to ensure the rumours are quashed,
That her crapper has been irreparably boshed.
In keeping with the norms of the day, (misunderstood, it seems),
You reamed a man on Market Square while munching custard creams.
