Dad? Sexually retarded.
Mum? Bum-farmyarded.
Mum's let the bigblokes go too far,
And now her arsehole resembles something that's been run over by a car.
Mum's year in review?
Poo-screw after poo-screw after poo-screw.
Your dad's in the John Lewis queue marked 'returns',
His exercise bike has 'inadvertantly become smothered in sperms'.
Two weird poos on a jetty surely
As far as any rubs or fucks go, dad's horizons couldn't be bleaker,
But in the world of who's got a fucking tiny prick, he's an 80k an hour public speaker.
Dad wants to be a cool nonce,
Like TVs "The Fonz."
Last night mum out on the town,
What happened?
Lots of blokes potted the brown,
Outcome?
She's finding it extremely difficult to sit down.
Dad's subjecting himself to some really unkind self-talk,
Concerning the appalling condition of his fuck-stalk.
Mum doesn't care who's in power; Labour, Tories, even the BNP,
As long as access to the public gents every night remains absolutely free.
