Sexfun in Rio

People think of Rio as an exciting coastal city with that huge statue
Whose name I can't recall for the moment, something to do with Christ,
And of course all those tasty birds on Copacabana Beach
With their gorgeously plump arse cheeks hanging out of their bikinis
But I have encountered a crueller and more Hellish side of this paradise.
I was hanging out in a cooler-than-cool bar on the Rua Barata Ribeiro,
Slurping down my tenth triple Martini on the rocks with a twist of the day
With my recently picked-up companion Teresa, a sexmad Amerindian midget,
With a pair of boobs like two mini-Zeppelinas and a butt to die for.
When a gang of born-again Evangelist right-wing Trumpites burst in,
And, without my permission, began to mock my beloved for her lack of height
Being blissfully unaware she was a Black belt judo expert (gnome sub-category).

Tiny Teresa was taking no shit from that load of god-squad reprobates
And she unhesitatingly defenestrated them with a few deft hand movements
Into the filthy condom-strewn gutter where they were trampled underfoot
By a passing carnival float of semi-naked gay lambada specialists.
Fearing that the local cops might well come in heavy-handed
And might demand a generous hand-out of bribes as well as a shag,
I manfully fled out of the bar (but not before swigging back my tasty drink)
And drove off in my pink Porsche, butchly humming my favourite cha-cha-cha
Tune from one of Webern's lesser known string quartets.
I think I shall avoid Rio on future holidays, no point in pushing my luck
And, from the tickle in my gonads, I felt a check-up at my regular
Highly-skilled venerealogist might well be on the cards.
Author notes