Your Dad's a simp

I was out having a drink with a friend,
when they told me my Dad's a simp.
"I don't mean to offend..." they said,
"He's a bit of a fuckin' gimp".  
 
I wasn't sure how to take the news,
so i carried on with my drink.
A little bit of me was too embarrassed to ask,
'What the hell is a fucking simp?'
 
"He sells Avon to your Nan" she continued,
"and only buys pasties with his pennies".
I shook my head confused by her outburst,
"he lives off Ben & Jerry's..."
 
She continued to demean my Dad,
As though I knew what she was saying.
I just sat there and listened quietly,
a diligence quite frankly worth obeying.  
 
Because the next few lines out of her mouth,
I don't think I'll ever forget.
"He puts buttered bread in the toaster..." she complained,
"...and keeps a slug for a fucking pet!".  
 
She wouldn't stop her ranting,
So I had to spark her out and run.
I ran all the way back home,
and recounted it to my Mum.
 
She was just as stunned by this,
Maybe even a little more.
When all of a sudden quite loudly,
Open swung the kitchen door.  
 
There stood my Dad,
donned in fishnet shirt.
"Dad, Dad!" I shouted in peril.
"Some bird's calling you a fuckin' blurt!"  
 
With rage his face turned red,
He couldn't believe it either.
"I'm not a simp!" he screamed,
"I'm barely ever the receiver!"
 
My Mother recoiled like he'd said something wrong,
But I didn't know what that meant.
But after a while of thinking on it,
I think my Dad's one of those boys for rent.