Dad's standing in the election on a strong single issue:
A demand to have his face imprinted on all primary school toilet tissue.
Dad's hanging around the beer halls of Munich,
He's heard that German Biker Gangs are quite keen on eunuchs.
The bogs-atmosphere is highly charged and highly dog-manurey,
As a platoon of swole-cocked blokes knob mum with unbridled fury.
Mum's flown into a terrible sulk,
Because the 53rd bloke in line has only medium genital bulk.
For Valentines, mum simply wants a well-hung chap,
To pop in the bogs and wipe her crapper off the map.
Mum's been nominated for an OBE,
For service and dedication in the public lavatory.
Concerned Mum might be on her last legs
Blokes rush to crack open the restorative vat of dog-eggs.
Woe betide any bloke who "loses power,"
When administering mum's golden shower.
Bogs-legend has it Mum has an evil twin
Who prefers men who are ‘very thin’
Bogs-punters are often left thinking "what's the catch,"
Well, it's mum's STD-riddled arsehole and snatch.
