Tony the Poopbutt Butterfly

Porcupine in a pork pie porkin’ pie in a spork and tie. Fart.

It’s obviously hilarious and starts at 17:30 but it’s also something Matt and Sona should explore in a future episode.

Tinky Winky put his antenna in every port under the Sun Baby, but I’m the one who gets kicked out of the Teletubbies because my tummy only broadcasts porn.

Tommy Two-Ton had a son who only weighed a ton / Johnny One-Ton did not care for his dong was half his ton.

Someday I’ll rule over this Quiznos and we shall toast no more.

Every time I chase a waterfall there’s almost no chasing involved; it’s more just standing around and getting wet.

Deep fry a cheesecake and baste me in barbecue sauce, Fred’s honky-tonkin’ a quad-cane and headin’ for the pangolin pen.

Microwaved a cucumber and played ukulele till I vomited, so I guess I nuked a cuke, then uked and puked.

A flux capacitor may be able to bring you back to 1985, but can it bring back that lovin’ feelin’ in the butt?

Jack be nimble. Jack be quick. Jack’s the sort of asshole who brags about jumping over a six inch candlestick.

The sun and moon are Paul Bunyan’s nipples / the Earth slowly motorboats.

Haven’t heard the ep yet ... but didn’t PFT do this exact same thing when he did Burgey Sullenberg after Dan Lippert did Burgey Sullenberg? this stuff happens. It was funny both times.

Gangnam Style in my anus; Dang them piles, swole and venous.

When I want crunchy and meaty, gimme Kibble n’ Bits; when I want smooth and creamy, gimme a nibble of grits; when I want meaty and creamy, gimme that dribbling dick.

Thermodynamics explains the transfer of energy; “sperm till I panic” explains my plans for this evening.

Reach for your dreams to make them cum poo.

Snagged my balls on a thorn bush, but pricked my prick on a rose.

My keister caught an ass’s dong when the donkey donned an ascot.

A short circuit for Johnny 5; a long jerk-it for Johnny 69

These may look like roach clips on my nipples, but they're really baby crocodiles sucking on my teats.

Used to be you could cry in a porn theater without being bothered. Nowadays, it's all "Are you OK, Sir," "Do you need anything, Sir," "Sir, this is a WhirlyBall™ court."

Get the knives, boys, because if these bastard unicorns bleed glitter, daddy needs some glitzel for his schnitzel.

As the duck fucker on a pirate war ship, I literally just tend to our poultry so they survive at sea and we have a supply of fresh meat for the crew to prevent illnesses related to protein deficiency.

Crotchless snow pants only work if you also get the crotchless long johns.

I don't want a cobra pit or a bear trap under a palm leaf. And fuck your big ol' logs swingin' from trees. I'm talking full on spikes dipped in human feces. Proper booby traps, folks, with people shit. Thank you.