I’m Inflatable Irene, your blow-up girlfriend.
I am here when you need me, weekday or weekend.
I don’t need gifts, or flowers, or candlelit meals,
And I’ll never be taller than you in high heels.
I’m Inflatable Irene, your rubber romance.
I can make you so happy, just give me a chance.
I will never get fat round the thighs, or the rump,
Unless you go too far with the bicycle pump.
I’m Inflatable Irene, your PVC peach.
I’m not out of your league, I am within your reach.
I will never grow old, I won’t let myself go.
If you’d like my boobs bigger, just give them a blow.
I’m Inflatable Irene, your plastic princess.
I will wear what you like, lingerie or a dress.
I will never be moody, I won’t slap your face.
When you go on vacation, I’ll fit in your case.
I’m Inflatable Irene, your babe-shaped balloon.
I won’t mind if you don’t want to cuddle, or spoon.
I will never stop loving you, I’ll always care.
I won’t tell you you’re too fat, or laugh at your hair.
I’m Inflatable Irene, your air-filled air-head.
If you are feeling frisky, just take me to bed.
I won’t be disappointed, no matter how quick.
You don’t need to be gentle, my rubber’s quite thick.
I’m Inflatable Irene, your polythene pal.
Whatever you’re into, I am your kinda gal.
When you’re bored of me, kill me - a knife through my heart.
I won’t cry out for help, I’ll just give one long fart…