Mum's on Tinder
Swiping to add more blokes to the long queue already behind her
When your dad announced that he'd pickled his prick, he certainly wasn't bluffing;
your mum's encrusted trout farm cunt smells just like onion stuffing.
Surrounded on all sides by some unknown matter;
Ah, not to worry, it's faecal splatter.
Wrong-knob dad in the fetish-booth, cock remains 'un-stout',
this is directly connected to the fact that he's got no 'sexual clout'
Dad's appreciation for child welfare appears cursory,
Perhaps because his willy size never got past "nursery."
Outside the bogs, there was a crowd of pickets,
Upset at mum for remedying her crotch-crickets.
Outside the bogs, blokes are 'Christmas caroling,'
Inside the bogs, mum's receiving a festive wheelbarrowing.
Bedsit dad listening to Tanita Tikaram,
With a couple of fingers up his bum.
There's your father,
man-faeces smother;
It's taken it's toll;
being shit on by Danny Glover.
Mum's new bogs night is called 'Hott Mess,'
Specifically for blokes suffering from IBS.
