As Creamy As Sperm
My Special Noise

My Special Noise

I have a special secret noise
I keep for special places,
Like in the queue at Marks and Sparks,
Or at some posh horse races,
Or quietly lying on the floor,
Whilst taking yoga class.
It's a kind of gentle parping noise,
But it's not from up my ass.

I sometimes hear it in the bath
Whilst washing down below,
And when I bend to pick up stuff
I know my noise will show.
Whilst sitting in a crowded hall
And taking an exam
My noise is bound to make a sound
To remind me where I am.

It isn't loud, it's quite discrete,
But listen and you'll hear it.
It's rather nice and very sweet,
You really should not fear it.
It happens when I'm lying down
And sometimes when I'm kneeling,
My little bubbly airy sound
With its bubbly airy feeling.

I love my lovely little noise,
I can do it on demand.
I can make it silent if I like,
Or loud as you can stand.
I just vibrate my beefy flaps
And then it's sure to flow,
That lovely little special noise
From out my cunt I blow.


I'm holding a big party
And everyone can come.
I've invited everybody
from Black Sabbath to my mum.
I'm going to get a DJ,
some lights and lots of booze,
So come along! You're welcome!
Let's spread the joyful news!

I'm kicking off at eight o'clock,
So come within that hour.
I thought to get us going we
Could have a little shower,
And then perhaps a little sleep
Upon a bed of straw,
Before we hit the slippery wetness
Of the vast dance floor.

The main room will be heaving,
The carpet thick and lush,
And round the back the Chill-Out room,
If you require some hush,
With its two raised, rounded platforms,
Split smoothly in between,
The perfect place to just relax
And watch the merry scene.

I've got myself a marquee
In case of rain or storm.
It does its job despite the fact
It's rather old and worn.
The stripes have all but faded,
It's lost its shape somewhat,
And it has a slightly musty smell
That comes from all the rot.

We'll dine on fish and chocolate,
And drink white wine and scrumpy,
And maybe get some chocolate milk...
Though this might be quite lumpy.
We'll dance to funky techno,
The kind you get at raves,
And then we'll go exporing in
My own huge ancient caves.

I hope that you can make it,
We'll have a wondrous night.
Oh please say you can make it.
Oh please say that you might.
We'll have a good old knees-up,
I know you like to dance,
So take this as an invite to
The party in my pants.

Gob Around A Sausage

Gob Around A Sausage

Got my gob around your sausage
And I'm nibbling on it gently.
It's very thick and meaty,
Neither vegetably nor lently.
It looks rather amusing
And it makes me want to snigger,
And I swear as I am sucking it
The damn thing's growing bigger.

Got my gob around your sausage,
Hot and greasy in my lips.
It secretes some form of liquid,
Down my chin it slowly drips.
All beefy, thick and luscious,
It's a real meaty treat.
I only wish I had a dozen
Like it I could eat.

Got my gob around a sausage
But I really just can't swallow,
Despite the fact my stomach
Is all empty, deep and hollow.
My teeth just want to tease it
But I hope that I don't cough,
'Cos then I might just clench my teeth
And bite your sausage off.

Ode On A Pret-A-Manger Crayfish And Roquette Sandwich

Ode On A Pret-A-Manger Crayfish And Roquette Sandwich

Oh Crayfish sandwich all sprinkled with roquette
I lovingly carried you home in my pocket,
And took you upstairs to be eaten with glee.
I just want to say thanks for being eaten by me.

Your mayo was thick and as creamy as sperm.
Your bread was so soft, yet surprisingly firm.
Your roquette was crisp as a lettuce can be.
Oh thank you, dear friend, for being eaten by me.

Your crayfish was succulent, juicy and pink,
You came in a box that was bluish, I think,
A nice serviette was just thrown in for free!
Oh nice crayfish sandwich! You belonged to me!

Oh nice crayfish sandwich, alas you're all gone,
I feel in your absence I can't carry on,
The time that we shared were the best I have known,
And now you have left me here all on my own.

I feel I can't live without you by my side,
I've let myself go and I've lost all my pride,
I stare at your box, but you'll never return,
I light cigarettes and my arms I do burn.

I went to the doctor, he gave me a pill,
He told me I seemed to be mentally ill,
I told him about your strange fishy allure,
And he sent me away to a place quite secure.

So now, on the 'List of the Mad', my name's added,
And I live out my life in a cell that is padded,
You drove me to madness, my sandwich of fish,
But still your return is the one thing I wish.

Urgh, hang on a minute, I feel rather unwell,
My stomach is churning, my arse is in hell,
I'm just nipping out to the bog for a tick,
I think I'm about to be horribly...


Oh God! Oh my God! You have come back to me!
My sweet crayfish sandwich! Oh how can this be?
I thought you were gone but you're back! Woo woo woo!
You look a bit funny, but I'm sure that it's you!

And now that you're back we will never be parted,
never again will I be broken hearted,
I'll carry you round in my hands, filled with pride,
And one summer's day I will become your bride.

Oh nice crayfish sandwich, my love it is true,
I'll never regurgitate anything like you,
And even though you are all squishy and smelly,
I'd rather have you by my side than inside my belly.

June 2002

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