The squeaking of a lone sex arse in the dark of the Nordic night
Its user illuminated by the arse's eerie luminescence
Here's the meal,
it's freshly plated,
it's a baked potato
(on a bed of shit, grated).
Mum's menu: universally slated.
Mum's been left saddled,
With a fanny that's been 'over-paddled.'
Mentally, dad carries a simple brief;
"playgrounds, schools, remove briefs."
Just for a lark,
Mum's doing a "pop-up bogs" in Tesco's car park.
it was nigh on impossible to keep pace with your Mum. She helped with the rhythm though as she banged on a drum. (all the action was, naturally, up the bum).
Mum's getting poo-hammered in the portaloo of a covered market by an art exhibition fraudulently claiming to be the works of Henri Matisse;
Dad? Wanking geese.
Piercer unable to find delicate enough genital ‘bling’
To ‘Prince Albert’ Dad’s little ‘bee sting’
Tiny, dry, crumbly and entirely lacking in 'meat'
Dad's 'sausage roll' isn't anyone's idea of a treat
Mum's rear,
Has been "reduced to clear."
