Fashion

There once was an English bureaucrat
Who liked to take dumps in his hat
He’d stick it up on his crown
And let it drip down
That’s simply the way that he shat

He bragged 'bout it to his girlfriend
Who insisted his smell did offend
But she came around
The moment she found
Out his hat-toilet had become a new trend

She figured that she’d join her man
So on her head she perched a hat dunny can
They’d get many compliments
From the ladies and the gents
Who thought their stained faces were a sun tan

They’d say “Ah, but you’re incorrect
Actually, how we achieve this effect
Is with our own poo
You see, our hats are a loo!”
Their friends 'ooed and aahed' in respect

The hat-toilet craze really took off
And was followed by each and every toff
Who pretended they'd heard
About the top hat turd
Way back in the days of Romanoff

The couple were asked to a dance by the gentry
And when they made their grand ballroom entry
The trumpeters did toot
A most epic tribute
As all present got down on bent knee

The Lord Mayor rose up to speak
With fresh sewage trickling down his left cheek
“A round of applause
For our guests of honour because
They make us so stylish and chic!”

The shit-faced crowd clapped loud and cheered
No one in town had ever been so revered
And as they all settled down
A kid in his dressing gown
Got up and yelled “YOU GROWN UPS ARE MAD FUCKIN' WEIRD!!!”