Hardly anything there at all.
‘W-w-where do I g-go? W-where’s Mum?’ a fresh-faced bogs-lad on his first day stammered
Big Bloke Barry: ‘over there’s the queue lad, get in line: she’s having her bum jackhammered’.
It's a freezing cold night, but still blokes are queuing,
For a taste of mum's "sticky toffee pudding."
Squadies' favourite - your mum's cum-valley
(more popular than Worzel Gummidge star, Aunt Sally)
At the end of the day, mum's proud and content,
Of her currently available 1000s of hours of extremely sexually explicit pornographic content.
Mum's launched her own brand of perfume; tonight down the gents, she was wearing it,
Funny smell...remarkably similar to loads of different blokes' shit.
Bum-docs pleading with mum that "there's really no winners,"
If she doesn't start working with at least a few more "thinners."
Mum continues to go from strength to strength,
In her capacity to take further width and length.
Bogs excitement builds to fever pitch,
As mum's bum width approaches "drainage ditch".
Dad: 'Botticelli willy'
Mum 'willy jelly-botty'
Dad's finally scored with the decrepid Barbara Streisland,
Mum's frozen her own cunt off;
Yep, she's been to Iceland.
