Vegetable samosa with shit.
The first thought had by most victims of dad's flashing by the canal towpath,
Was simply, "Wow, no girth."
In 1972, dad represented Great Britain in the Paralympics,
Winning gold in the 400 metres breast-stroke: category 'men with no pricks.'
Mum's written a best seller
About a bog-bloke's old fella.
The morning after a bogs-shift, mum's lucky if her anus,
Returns to size-setting "open tub of humus."
Your dad's arsehole (whilst being stoved) made a strangely satisfying quack.
Your mum's cunt?
Jaw-droppingly slack.
Mum's highly successful,
At getting a cockfull.
Sexual activity now kept to a minimum, following the utter destruction of your shitbox 'n' perineum.
At this point it’s only Mum’s tough, leathery flaps
Preventing complete vagino-anal prolapse
Mum’s hard at work at the ‘poleing station’
Egging on blokes to ever more vigorous acts of anal ablation
Mum's got a part time cashier position at her local Menzies
But has smothered the till in her shit and clotted menses.
