Hello boys and girls and welcome to Parsonipsmuss. I hope your thighs are bulbous and well oiled and that your gutters and soakaways are running free.

Imagine if you can that you're walking the streets of Sunland when you're approached by a stranger in a T-Moo-Poupper-Popper with a a donkey and an Alsatian tethered to his milky arm.

All right, you ask?

Aye, I'm arid. Do you want to pop me donkey?

No, thanks. It stinks as shit.

Do you want to ride on it?

No, because I don't want my slacks covered in donkey Todd.

Do you want to buy it?

Why would I want to buy an area of hairy shit?

Oh, have you heard him sing?

No, but what type of music does he sing?

Country fucking music!

Oh yeah, prove it.

And the bloke kicks the donkey in its knackers and it begins to sing.

I've been listening to that country fucking music whilst hanging pepperoni's on my tree.

I've been piping it directly into my bathtub

Because it helps to clean my ball bag of monies

I've bought a new set of headphones in Aldi

So I can feed that country music to my brain

I bought myself some pointy shoes from Costco

so I can use the toe to clear out my dreams.

I'm that honky, I'm that bright as a spark.

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