So I feel this piece needs a little explanation/long-winded apologia. In the town where I grew up, a story went round that, after some lads in their late twenties went out to celebrate a birthday, one of them woke up the next morning and discovered he was in bed with the birthday boy’s mother. She was single, there was nothing wrong with this, but still the town felt like it had to come up with a nickname for her. Sometimes crass misogyny reaches such depths that it becomes a parody of itself, something almost sublime. This poem is titled after the name they gave her.

Mrs Fuck

By day, she is a paragon
Of temperance and propriety
She sits, and knits, and sups oolong
With pillars of society
Reflecting solemnly upon
Their lives of strict sobriety
This node of notoriety
Oh wicked Mrs Fuck

She is a paragon by day
A chaste queen on a golden throne
Chairwoman of the PTA
Creator of the perfect scone
And when she passes, people say:
‘Aha – she’ll raise the moral tone,’
Froth dripping from her nether zone
Oh wanton Mrs Fuck

You saw the article, no doubt,
The Homes and Gardens feature spread
With photographs of Maison Fuck
Staffed by its matriarchal head
Vagania Fuck, prim socialite,
Snapped posing like a thoroughbred
Each picture screaming come to bed,
Seductive Mrs Fuck

Fuck in the pantry
Fuck on the futon
Fuck feeling randy
Snipping a coupon
Fuck sipping brandy
(Merely a soupcon)
Then later, hand-shandies
And Fuck screeching ‘Poop on
Me big boy! Defile me, please!
The flash of your bulb
Leaves me weak at the knees!
I need to be ravished
And punished and teased!’
For she eats men like air,
Oh she eats them like cheese,
Like some carnal disease
Mrs Fuck

Do you ache, Mrs Fuck,
In the dark of the night
For fulfilments more noble
Than anal delight?
Do you daub soothing ointment
And muse is this right?
Does your bottom crave love
Mrs Fuck?

Does your grotto grow grey
With the grind of it all?
Does it pine to spew children
Who hark at your call?
Little Fucks in the parlour,
The library and hall?
Would you like a small Fuck in the bath,
Mrs Fuck?

Mrs Fuck
Mrs Fuck
Mrs Fuck
Mrs Fuck
Were your private parts jinxed
By some mischievous Puck?
Did a pedlar’s curse send
Your libido amok?
Or were you by sexual
Lightning struck?

Mrs Fuck
Mrs Fuck
Your whole life is a tragedy!
Must all your encounters
Be so very…
Is the way to your heart
Through some jelly-smeared cavity?
Is love smelly and weird,
Mrs Fuck?

Seize the reins
Mrs F
Kindly dismount that wino
The hour has arrived
To be bold as a rhino
To shampoo those stains
From your curtains and lino
Your house curtains, I mean,
Mrs Fuck

Come now Fuck
All this hiding!
Oh Fuck
All these lies!
No more shame
Mrs Fuck!
Cast aside your disguise!
For fame’s your inalienable
Birthright and prize
Arise proud, and gaze
Into your enemies’ eyes.
Imagine their shock
And their prudish surprise
When each one of them,
Rudely awakened, espies:
Fuck in the papers
Fuck on TV
Fuck scoffing capers
And quaffing Chablis
Mrs Fuck fucking
Like you and like me

Oh what joy, Mrs Fuck!
Oh what rapturous bliss!
The scent of a rose
And a lingering kiss
While you lie on your back
And get covered in piss
There’s no heaven but this,
Mrs Fuck

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