By day the telesales cold caller
By night the g string, leapord king, hen party mauler
Ladies offer dollars
And like man parish he swallows
He has an oil over tan
Bought at JJB, beside the wanna be wag glam
Admirers made comments in infancy
They saw his little bits in the pram
Said he would grow up big and strong
Rightly so, he adequately fills his feathered throng
Watch them baby oil girls go
Dj puts on the tribal song
Whips em off for the silvered tongues
Of latency
Everyone on heat, my best mates a stripper
He is good looking but never would I confess that if on the turn would like a licker, stick to him, best mates cuddle up
In dreams muddle up the lines
Especially when growing up, hanging towels on poles that will one day pry
Flag shall fly for any old sex, as long as it moves.

My best mates a stripper and I’m confused.