Dad's not kidding,
When he says he's "going kidding."
In Dad's mind he's Henry Cavill
In reality he's Jimmy Savile.
On entry to the bogs, blokes are handed a strong laxative,
So when it's their turn with mum, they've "nothing left to give."
Technically,
Dad *has* got a willy.
Mum's new bogs night is called 'Hott Mess,'
Specifically for blokes suffering from IBS.
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'.
Dad never "lasts,"
When he's watching YouTubes of Russian gymnasts.
Mum's certainly been the recipient of dirty Russian roubles,
Mainly after receiving Russian biker-gang willy-doubles.
Mum's not at all intimidated,
By the prospect of being multiply penetrated.
It's on your face and chin and it's loads of spunk;
Dad's willy's dribbly, and you're on the bottom bunk.
