The riverboat chugs along and comes to a stop after a terrifying tunnel passage in which images of sick depravity and torture appear before the eyes of the unfortunate passengers.
"I fuckin' hate in-flight entertainment", moans Grandpa Joe as he removes his headphones and places them back in their holder.
All are in agreement. They curse Mr. Wanker for making them watch repeats of the 1990 World Cup Final.
"That was a shite match", agrees Mr. Wanker, "One of those bloody Oompa-Poo-Poo's must've put the wrong fricken tape in the machine by mistake. It was supposed to be the dramatic Champions League final between Liverpool and AC Milan….or the last five minutes of Man U versus Bayern…..bastards!"
They all get out of the boat and looks around.
"I want to give each of you one of my newest inventions: an Everlasting Shit Slurper", announces Mr. Wanker, "but you must never show it to anyone - especially rival chocolate shit makers"
Every child looks at each other knowingly.
Mr. Wanker places one of them in each kids hands.
"What does it do?", asks Milly O' Nare.
"What the fuck do you think, kid? It's called an EVERLASTING SHIT SLURPER, for Christ's sake!", Mr. Wanker snidely replies, "the shit taste stays in your mouth for ever"
"Well what's next, Wanker?", asks Mr. O' Nare.
"Come with me", he says as he guides them into a room shaped like a dirty, rundown public urinals.
"This is a new amazing invention I've been working on", he says with an excited air.
"What is it, Mr. Wanker? Oh, do tell!", Charlie smiles.
NOTE: THOSE WHO ARE OF A GENTLE DISPOSITION AND UNCOMFORTABLE WITH READING ABOUT EXCREMENT-THEMED MASTURBATION SHOULD PROBABLY STOP READING NOW!
"You are a curious little fucker, aren't you?! Well this, my dear friends, is a 'Wankertorium'", he describes as he waltz around the room with glee (the entire cast of that sing-song show are in attendance!)
"Oh, how glorious!", beams Milly O' Nare, "how does it work?"
"Simple. I come in here and have a wank while I'm eating chocolate shit…that's it, really…Oh, and that's how White Chocolate is made….", Mr. Wanker exclaims.
"Cor blimey!", Grandpa Joe exhales.
"But it's still in the developmental stage and I haven't had a chance to fully use it properly yet, so let us now move on", Mr. Wanker leads them all out of the room….all, that is, except Charlie and Grandpa Joe.
"Waddaya say, Charlie my boy? Sounds like fun!", Grandpa Joe covertly whispers to Charlie once the coast is clear.
"But Mr. Wanker said we should move along…"
"Come on, Charlie, don't be such a big girls blouse all your bleedin; life!", Grandpa Joe teases.
"Ok then!", Charlie grins, "a quick wank won't hurt anyone".
They both eat some chocolate shit that is lying around and then , well, start to have a bit of a 'willy fiddle'.
"Bet I come first!", Grandpa Joe challenges.
Jesus Christ, is there any depth into which this author will not sink?!
Faster and faster they go until they both achieve, ahem, the finality of 'manual pleasure'.
"Oh, Grandpa, I think we've messed up Mr. Wanker's lovely clean walls and floor", Charlie says as he realises the results of their naughtiness.
They both scurry away and try to catch up with the others.
They arrive in another large room just as Mr. Wanker is giving a demonstration of some other shite.
"This is a caravan made entirely from shit", he explains, "I thought hat maybe the character of Pikee Gee-Gee would enjoy it".
"Asfarhahaet jeatj aegfna etjad fbnarh agj a!!!!!!", Pikee Gee-Gee says with a broad smile on his face.
We must presume that this excites the lad. He and his mother - a stout, raven haired woman with a weathered face and bit flabby tits - clamber inside the shit caravan and inspect it.
Within seconds more caravans arrive. And then more. And More! Until finally the entire space is occupied with chocolate shit caravans, each containing at least several dozen itinerant friends of Pikee Gee-Gee and his mother.
"Quick! Oompa-Poo-Poo's bring in the boulders to block the passageways. We must not let anymore come!", orders Mr. Wanker.
Several burly Oompa-Poo-Poo's arrive wearing fluorescent jackets and driving construction machinery and diggers. They place huge stone boulders around the perimeter of the area occupied by the itinerants and close them in.
Pikey Gee-Gee and his surly sunburnt friends come out in fury, waving slash hooks and pitch forks and making threatening gestures.
But the Oompa-Poo-Poo's are having none of it and they engage them in a violent battle in which Pikey Gee-Gee gets decapitated and his mother gets a kick up the arse.
"Come now folks! Let's move on. My Oompa-Poo-Poo's can take care of matters here", Says Mr. Wanker as he guides his visitors through a tiny opening to another section of the factory.
They appear in a room that looks like a bedroom, with curtains made from shit and a very sexy atmosphere (well, as sexy as shit can be)
"What's this place, Mr. Wanker?", asks Charlie.
"This is where I make all those sexy boxes of dark chocolate that people give on Valentines Day", Mr. Wanker purrs as he lays out on the bed with his legs spread and clearly showing off his oversized package.
"Oh, what a huge package you have, Mr. Wanker", says Reagan the possessed child for the first time, her voice deep and sexy like Barry White after smoking a turd.
"Why thank you, Child. Let me whip it out and show you", he smiles.
He stands up and removes the ribbon and lifts off the lid and shows her the deliciously sensual chocolate sweets inside (I know what you were thinking! - filthy mind!)
"These are my chocolate balls", says Mr. Wanker, "filled with the best shit you can find anywhere"
Without waiting to be asked, Reagan snatches up a handful and gobbles them down - clearly a girl who likes having balls in her mouth.
"No, child! Wait! Stop!", says Mr. Wanker.
But it's too late. Reagan starts shivering in excited sexual bliss. Her entire body starts orgasming.
A wide smile creeps across her ugly battered face and her head begins to slowly rotate anti-clockwise.
"Jesus! I'd say she's great in bed", quips Grandpa Joe.
Mr. Wanker takes out his flute and gives it a little blow (oo-eerr!) and immediately a group of semi-naked Oompa-Poo-Poo's appear through a tiny hatch by the far wall.
"She's overloading on sexual ecstasy ", Mr. Wanker advises, "You know what to do, boys".
What happens next is too much to describe in detail on a website of this caliber and class. All I can say is that it involves five naked Oompa-Poo-Poo's, a donkey in a gimp mask, an orgasmic possessed girl, Isaac Hayes records played at loud volume, a giant spinning disco ball, and a whole lot of Mc-lovin'.
"Don't worry, Mrs. Reagan", Mr. Wanker comforts the girls mother, "your daughter is in good hands. Lots of good hands, in fact…and hooves…"