YER DYSON AIRBLADE
We trudged round Designer Outlet
A day full of dull misery
I’d sampled a few cups of coffee
Which meant that I needed a pee.
I nipped to the public convenience
And read all the ads on the wall
Avoiding the one on Viagra
(A bloke was in the next stall).
But then as I left the urinals
I heard from the Ladies next door
The sound of a Dyson Airblade
Making its motorised roar.
I checked in my tracks for a second
And thought, “Am I missing a trick?”
I thought that the Dyson Airblade
Was put there for drying your prick.