I’ve been looking over my blog stats for the last six month or so, and have discovered that the most popular post I ever wrote, by far, was not a complex deconstruction of theology but a piss-take of astrology. I figure if Mystic Meg can churn out this sort of bollocks week after week, I might as well have a crack at doing another one… Thus, I present Right To Think’s second selection of extremely precise horoscopes:

Aries:
This week, Belgium will declare war on you, personally, citing human rights atrocities and the way you leave towels on the bathroom floor. Your Government will turn a blind eye, mainly because, as they put it: “It’s fucking Belgium. What are you worried about?” Investing in sandbags and a bayonet would be a wise move. Your lucky poison is arsenic.

Taurus:

Thursday will bring on powerful flatulence, as Mars conjuncts Mercury. You would do well to avoid bread products this week. Try to eat more herring, instead.

Gemini:
As a cost-saving exercise, your boss will announce this week that a new dress code is to be implemented at your place of work. From now on, all employees will be required to wear pyjamas. If you are a professional scuba-diver, this will be problematic. Your lucky coat is a hat. Don’t ask why.

Cancer:

The film script you have been touting around finally gets picked up by world famous director Steven Spielberg this Wednesday. He wants to put it into production, with one or two minor changes… Firstly, rather than focussing on the main character (a World War 2 veteran struggling to survive in the economic crash of the 1970s) he wants you to rewrite the whole script from the perspective of a bee that appears in the background in Scene 3. Secondly, he would like you to change the title from “Misbegotten Hero” to “Billy Bee’s Big Jolly Fun Movie”. Finally, he wants you to change your name (at least on the script) to “Arthur Bungalow”. Your chance for fame has come at last!

Leo:

You will be offered a new job this week, but on your first day you will be fired for accidentally filling the photocopier with toast. My advice is: don’t sweat it. Had you stayed, you would have lost your job for putting marmalade in the stapler, instead.

Virgo:

A tall, dark stranger features in your horoscope this week – he’s going to try and steal your wallet on Saturday. Carry Mace.

Libra:

At precisely 4:32 on Wednesday afternoon, nothing of any importance whatsoever will happen to you. The rest of your week will be rather dull.

Scorpio:

Someone at work likes you – it’s your boss! He will make inappropriate comments about your knees and will try and persuade you to give him a massage. Fortunately, you will come to develop a strange and unappealing skin condition which will put him right off. Your lucky fabric is cheesecloth.

Sagittarius:
On Friday strange warbling sounds will inexplicably fill your home. Don’t ask me to tell you what’s causing them though – you don’t want to know. Seriously. Try not to even think about it. If you knew what I’ve seen in the stars, you’d shit your pants. I’m so very, very glad I’m not you.

Capricorn:

Jupiter rising in Taurus means that this is a good week to tell people what you think of them. Unfortunately, you’re going to take this way too far. As your friendships crash down in flames, consider that just because the stars tell you to do something doesn’t mean you have to do it. Would you jump off a cliff if the stars told you to? Actually, being a Capricorn, you probably would.

Aquarius:

A sack of weasels will arrive for you in the post this morning. I should know – I posted them. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find that many weasels? And the goddamn things bite! I won’t be doing that again any time soon, so enjoy them while you can.

Pisces:

On Monday, you will feel compelled to erect a large edifice of scaffolding in your back garden. By Wednesday it will be taller than your house. You will drape it with thin slices of ham, and demand that your family pray to your new “Ham Temple”. As news of your antics spreads, more and more people will show up to laugh at and ridicule you. Eventually you will be arrested for flouting Planning Permission laws. Your lucky sliced meat is, ironically, honey-roast ham.