Your dad was left champing at the sexual 'bit',
after filling the bog with horror-dogshit.
Sick bags were reached for in the editing suite,
In the final cut of mum's film "Hot Lunch: All You Can Eat."
Sorry to derail,
But just wanted to share prick test results: fail.
Your dad's experimental dildo has affected the national grid,
Power cut for the entire Midlands
(hopeless quest: 'prick-liquid').
Bogs-blokes in an impatient huddle,
Around mum's 'bronze medal.'
Mum fondly remembers Russian biker Vlad "The Impaler,"
And how she had to intermittently reach for her inhaler.
There's high demand for mum's holiday snaps,
Featuring "bumhole fiesta", covered in dog craps.
Blokes finding it increasingly difficult to speak kindly,
About mum's spilling twat-cabbage and surrounding debris.
Even techniques of complex-valued geometry,
Are inadequate to explain mum's chronically-knobbed neths-taxonomy.
Mum can no longer sit,
After a busy day entertaining staff and customers in the car park of Kwik Fit.
