I had been up in Edinburgh in bonnie Scotland On a blissfully boozy business trip And was flying back to my home in London (not flying myself, you should understand I was just a fucking passenger in a ‘plane) When (as Lady Luck would have it) I was seated next To this absolutely gorgeous hunk of manflesh With a very interesting-looking lump in his pants. We got to chatting and after a few G&Ts or four, The upshot was that he dragged me home with him (after I’d phoned my then faggy husband Bert and told him I was delayed and I knew, just knew, Bert would be off to the nearest toilets looking for some trade). I have to say my new bedmate was hung like a horse And he slipped me a couple of satisfactory lengths One in the puss and one where the sun don’t shine. Reflecting the huge amounts of booze we had demolished My airborne pick-up fell into a drunken stupor And his snores were enough to wake the bleeding dead So I thought, sod this for a lark, I’m out of here, And I grabbed my clobber, said I had to go, Called myself a cab and back to the airport To collect my waiting car and home I went Which is where I got (e’en to me) a slight surprise. In the days before fame and riches smiled on me I lived in a modest suburban house in Acacia Avenue So the ten-ton truck parked outside stood out a bit; I thought, ‘Bert wouldn’t, would he?’ but he had. I crept into the house, as quietly as a little mouse, And up the stairs I went to the master bedroom Which is what we called the one with full en-suite In those dear long-gone days of yesteryear. The bedside light was on and I peeped shyly round the door And what a wondrous sight was there revealed To my scarce-believing eyes and waiting Canon Sureshot. Hubby Bert was trussed up and gagged on our marital bed Whilst a hairy-arsed giant pounded into him from the rear Like a mighty piston working double overtime. I could tell he was a really high-class trucker As he was still wearing his official Eddie Stobart hat. Now you might think most women would be offended To find their spouse acting thus, for sex, up-ended; But I am Edna Sweetlove and am made of sterner stuff. So, fighting back my gag reflex (but only just), I took a few quick snaps for the family photo album, Smiled ‘Hello, and don’t let me interrupt you for a moment, dears’. And, so having said, took out my ever-waiting bullwhip To give them both the lovely thrashing they deserved.