The big fat
chud wobbled home one night, singing:
'Woah, Maccy Maccy'
After twenty eight pints.
Had a bit of trouble getting the key in the door,
His belly dragged him downwards and his face hit the floor.
Spilt curry down his shirt, soaked through to the vest,
Pisses in his jeans as he tries to undress,
Trousers round his ankles, he bangs into the door,
Decides to have a piss in the cutlery drawer
Then he starts
to vomit on the telly by the wall,
She must have been to Comet,
Coz that cunt wasn't there before.
He pukes and
he pukes, but there's no stopping,
New picture on the stairs, the old bag's been shopping.
He spews and he spews then its time to relax,
He props himself up on the edge of the bath.
One last puke strains his whole body,
Out of his arse plops a vindaloo jobby.
Bile out the front end, bum-sick out the back,
Vomit in the toilet, diarrhoea all over the bath.
Then his buttock
hits the hot tap and his chubby legs collapse,
His jeans are round his ankles,
The big fat bastard falls backwards into the bath
His arms and
legs are waving, they're flapping like fuck,
But the shit's sealed him in, and the fat cunt's stuck.
He flounders in the tub, but he's a perfect fit,
Turds down his back, his front's borted in sick.
He grabs at the taps to pull himself clear,
But he hasn't got a clue about the trouble at the rear,
He crawls into bed, covered in shite,
And tries to cuddle up to his extremely fat and ugly wife.
She hits him
with a small brush
He's landed on the floor, she says:
'You smelly fat walrus, you live at number 24.'
