If I gave you something which you found quite useful But told you I couldn't be sure if that product was safe Or radioactive, you'd have two options in store Option one: You could put it aside for however long Scientists took to agree it was safe Option two: You could store it right next to your balls And only remove it when answering calls At which point you mash it right up to your brain And then store it alongside your penis again And in twenty-five years a new government will be elected By promising to reduce taxes on anti-inflammatory ball cancer d** And we'll all line up at the chemist's like mugs The ladies as well, 'cos by then you'll have balls They'll be bigger than ours, 'cos you make longer calls And phones will be banned from all pubs and workplaces As we apply cream to our tumorous faces We laugh at smokers and people with fake tans And tell ourselves that we've progressed While microwave frequencies pierce through our scrotums And boil the milk in our breasts