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 drugs
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