Dad: defeated softcock wanking in the larder
Mum: enjoying several large ‘penis-colada’s’
The peak of bogs-blokes' bliss,
Is timing it just right for mum's "sloppy eighty-fifths".
Mum's completely smashed on cheap wine and diazepam,
Allowing a total free-for-all up her bearded clam.
One blink and you missed 'em,
It's mum's arsehole, twat and perineum.
Dad banned from Thorpe Park's log flume,
Due to repeated unwelcome appearances of his "little mushroom".
Some might describe it as careless,
For dad to turn up at the kids trampoline centre, braless.
Dad certainly passes the eye test,
When considering him a dangerous local sex pest.
Bogs-tourists ogle,
At mum's distended bum-bugle.
Your Mum opening her legs is like a World War One trench, i.e. sopping, rotting, filled with men - oh and the stench.
Dad's bragging about his freshly made ravioli,
But there are strong suspicions that it contains something unholy.
