Open the pod bay doors.
Mum requires a mobility scooter, After being profoundly buggered up the poo-shooter.
From far and wide blokes are flocking To give mum's bum a brutal docking. Undercard: delivering to dad's woeful gens a thorough mocking.
Don't hate me, but I've got scrapie.
Dad's promoting a series of outlandish snake oil tinctures, Claiming to make household objects resemble kid's sphynctas.
At the Sperm Bank, Dad's asking for "kiddie mags" for help with his wank.
Mum's New Year Resolution is, as ever 'to try new things' Specifically 'to be rear-ended by a dedicated crew of blokes operating one of the Channel Tunnel boring machines'
Your body is certainly no fucking temple, You work on the streets, you're up for rental.
Dad's penis: subatomic particle with no mass; Mum's pants: A blend of twat and shit gas.
It's thin and it's shit, but it is immensely strong; It's dad's poorly retrofitted carbon nanorod dong.
Dad's genitalia, Classification: junior.
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