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How you lot have managed for the last six months without my astrological advice is beyond me, but if any of you have survived you’ll be glad to know – they’re back! A little delayed (I wanted to give the COTG a bit of time at the top), I present February’s stars…
Aries:
Integrating life and work has never been easy, but this month it becomes more difficult as your boss requires that you work a 170-hour week. Your protestations that there are fewer than 170 hours in a week fall on deaf ears, and you are forced to develop a time machine in order to capitulate to his demands. An amusing mix-up in the wiring will send you back in time to the year 1746, where you will accidentally become your own great-great-great-great-great grandparent. The resulting time-loop will enable you to complete the required assignments for your boss, and you’ll have enough time left over to learn the piano, like Bill Murray does in Groundhog Day.
Taurus:
On the 14th, your pyjamas will evolve sentience. Although you will be able to conduct rudimentary communications using hand-signals, in the end the difference in intellect will become too great to overlook. Humbled by the fact that your night-attire now has an IQ more than twice your own, you will spiral into depression, whilst your errant PJs go on to win the Nobel Prize for Chemistry. Chin up, though! Towards the end of the month your toaster will become self-aware also, and it’s as dumb as shit. Your lucky exotic fruit is the papaya.
Gemini:
Unfortunately, Tasers feature heavily in your horoscope this month. It’s probably best if you cancel your plans to attend the “Save Our Fleas” protest march. If you really must go along, try not to look quite so, you know… Islamic.
Cancer:
Remember that starfish you threw back in the ocean when you were five? Turns out it was actually the Dragon God of the Eastern Ocean, trapped in the form of an echinoderm. Who would have thought? Anyway, he’s going to turn up this month and offer to grant you a wish. I’d go for next week’s lottery numbers, but no, you’re not going to take my advice on this. Instead, your foolish wish for superpowers will anger the Dragon God, and in a display of divine irony, he will grant you the power to transform, at will, into a starfish. Next time, heed the advice of the stars – or at least the advice of your astrologer. We could have split the money. Nice going, starfish-boy.
Leo:
Venus is rising in Aries this week, meaning that you’ll probably attract a stalker. You should carry Mace, and maybe invest in some heavier curtains, the ones you’ve got in your bedroom are a bit transparent. Well, they are if you’ve got the light on, and someone’s watching, at night, from a rooftop across the street. With binoculars. Nice counterpane, by the way. Your lucky hairdo is the beehive.
Virgo:
Being a Virgo, you’re a sucker for charity cases, so when two angelic children appear on your doorstep with a collection tin, you’ll happily donate half your month’s wages. Imagine how surprised you’ll be to later discover that you’ve accidentally contributed heavily to the charity “Guns 4 Toddlers”, an organisation devoted to providing firearms to the under-fives. With the money you provide, the charity will be able to afford two black market AK47s and a reconditioned Prohibition-era tommygun, as you’ll discover from the polite thank-you letter (scrawled in crayon) that subsequently arrives. You’ll be glad of your donation, though – Mr Wilcox from two doors down doesn’t give them anything, and later in the week will have his patio demolished by a tartrazine-addled two-year old in a Sherman tank.
Libra:
This month, I had planned to try and divine your fate using haruspicy, but when I found out what it actually was, the idea seemed rather less brilliant. I thought it was a kind of condiment. Imagine my surprise when I had to plunge my hands into the heaving entrails of an unfortunate goat! Well, let’s just say my own entrails did their fair share of heaving, and it was impossible to divine anything from the resulting mess. The other people on the course were not impressed, but they should advertise these things properly! “Come and learn the exciting ancient Art of Haruspicy!” screams the brochure, but they never mention the offal, or the screaming – well, at £250 per head for a weekend of guts and wibbly bits, I reckon I can live without it, thanks very much. And they made me pay for the goat! Your lucky household item is a hairdryer.
Scorpio:
In an attempt to impress a loved one, you will decide this month to change your name by Deed Poll to Wotan The Allfather, Lord of Asgard. I’m not saying this is a bad idea per se, I’m just not sure you’ve entirely thought through the implications. It appears that, since the real Wotan is taking an extended leave of absence, you are, in loco parentis, the official guardian of divine Norse layabout and general antisocial delinquent Thor the Thunderer. Responsibility for his antics is going to cost you a small fortune in property damage and paternity suits, so you’d best make sure your legal insurance is up to date. Oh, and your loved one? Not impressed in any way.
Sagittarius:
The machinations of Mercury will spin your love life sideways this week, as the Water Planet (hang on, isn’t Venus the Water Planet?) migrates elliptically into the alignment of the Refused Adenoid. In conjunction with the rising of Saturn, this will inspire both lust and nausea in equal measure amongst those of the opposite gender. When these two aspects collide, you’ll enjoy some of the best sex of your life, but you’ll wake the following morning covered in sick. I’m not sure if this constitutes an improvement on the normal state of affairs. Don’t worry – Jupiter undulating in Sagittarius denotes a high likelihood of your bedspread being cleaned by elves.
Capricorn:
Whilst it was very cool in its heyday, the Funky Chicken is no longer the dance of choice for today’s modern raver. This fact will be made uncomfortably apparent to you when you accidentally gatecrash your teenage neighbour’s party, where you will be made to feel old and ridiculous by the assembled young trendies. The last laugh is yours, however, since their underage antics will draw the attention of the local constabulary, who break up the party with water-cannons. Retiring to your own abode (albeit a little soggily), you will recline in a favourite armchair with a glass of fine port, and contemplate the excellence of your cheeseboard. As with both port and cheese, age brings with it a richer and more mature nature. You still look like a twat on the dancefloor, though
Aquarius:
My study of the stars tells me that there are still no Aquarians reading this blog. You may think you were born under the sign of the Water-Carrier, but I assure you, if you’re reading this, your parents have been lying to you.
Pisces:
Finding the occasional odd sock in your washing machine is fairly common, but finding a shark in there is not. You may need to recruit the assistance of a marine biologist to help you get it out.
Ah, the merry month of May. Well, not so merry if you’re on fire, or suffering from a hideous wasting disease – but thankfully you can avoid such perils merely by heeding the advice in the following extremely accurate predictions.*
Aries:
Have you ever had one of those dreams where you find yourself at work, naked, with all your co-workers standing around laughing at you? Well, next Tuesday, it won’t be a dream.
Taurus:
Now is the time to take risks and burn bridges. Tell your boss what you really think of him, disinherit your children, bet your house on the gee-gees, buy a one-way ticket to Madagascar, or start a fight in your local biker bar. This is the way to find out what living is all about! You can thank me later, when you get back from scraping lemurs out of your bloodied wounds.
Gemini:
You wouldn’t think a simple spelling error could herald the start of a madcap adventure involving naked dwarves, a Chinese Barry Manilow impersonator, a crate of whippets and a crazy high speed journey around the world – and you’d be right, that isn’t going to happen to you this month. In fact, the only thing you’ll mis-spell in May is the word “pusillanimous”, and the only effect will be to make you look a bit pretentious and not very bright. Maybe you should lay off all those highbrow documentaries on economics. Your lucky Lord Of The Rings backdrop is the Hornburg.
Cancer:
A strange mound which appears in your back garden this month will have you calling for the mole-exterminators, but there’s not much they can do – it’s actually the tip of a new volcano. Cursing Bobby Jindal the whole time, you will be forced to watch as your immaculate lawn is systematically consumed by flowing rivulets of red-hot magma, and your garden gnomes melt in the intense heat. On the positive side, the volcano will cap out and go extinct at a little over 2000 feet, and in winter it will be excellent for tobogganing.
Leo:
Yours is a sad and lonely fate this month, as Mercury rises in Capricorn and buggers your love life forever. Under the planet’s ethereal influence, you will leave your current partner and shack up with a swan, who treats you like dirt and doesn’t reciprocate your affections. The swan will soon leave you for another swan, and you will be left a haggard shadow of your former self, doomed to lick the wounds of your failed Cygnus romance for the rest of your miserable existence. Eventually, you will manage to piece your shattered life back together, and get it on with a mallard – but you will never truly love again.
Virgo:
Don’t worry, lots of people think your hair looks very attractive that way. Maybe lose the earrings, though – dead squirrels are so 2007. And they smell a bit funny. Your lucky Act of Parliament is the Taxation of Chargable Gains Act, 1992.
Libra:
Right, I think I’ve got the hang of this I Ching thing. First, I have to count a bunch of twigs… then I put half of them in a pile over here, and – ah, shit, I’ve lost count. Let’s say there were forty-seven of the buggers. Divide by nine, carry the two… Okay, now I have to draw some lines – bit fiddly, with my hands full of twigs – okay, now this line is supposed to turn into that line, which means I have to looks something up… Crap, I’ve dropped the twigs again. What’s this bit say? “The wise man looks around the field.” Oh, hang on, no, I think I got something wrong in the maths earlier. Now I have to look something else up… Damn it, this is too hard! It’s all mumbo-jumbo about wind and dragons and shit anyway. Here’s your fortune: don’t bother with the fucking I Ching, it’s bollocks. Your lucky book is anything that isn’t the I-freakin’-Ching.
Scorpio:
Flashbacks to the Boer War will dominate your life for the next couple of weeks. You would do well to try and ignore them, and attempt to continue living as normal a life as possible. Try to avoid shouting, “Zulus! Faahsands of ‘em!” in crowded public places, for example, especially since the Zulus weren’t actually involved in the Boer War. Steer clear of any military souvenir shops, as well, since you’re more than likely to feel compelled to spend money on a flintlock rifle that you don’t really need.
Sagittarius:
Don’t throw away your old trousers just because the crotch is wearing thin! With a pair of scissors and some rudimentary needlework skills, you can convert them into an attractive pair of chaps. You’ll be all the rage at the next Cowboys and Injuns fancy-dress party!
This suggestion works better with leather trousers – gold lame MC Hammer pantaloons don’t really give the same results.
Capricorn:
A disagreement with your neighbour will ensue this week, when he builds a trebuchet and starts catapaulting dead llamas into your back garden. Since planning laws don’t appear to cover this issue, the local council will do nothing to help, and you’ll have to rely on your own initiative. Fortifying your home with a thirty-foot stone rampart will prove an effective (if costly) solution, but once he starts building a seige tower you’ll have real trouble repelling his assaults. Attempting to find a diplomatic solution, you discover that this was, in fact, just a rather ill-considered way for your neighbour to ask if he could borrow your hedge-trimmer. Lend it to him, and he can stop work on the giant arbalest which has begun taking shape on his patio. Your lucky Lego brick is a three-by-two-peg in red.
Aquarius:
The horoscope for Aquarius this month is really good. I’m talking sex-with-rock-stars good, I mean, totally positive, it’s all going to go swimmingly for you, baby! Of course, being an Aquarius, you’re not reading this – too busy with those popular, fun atheists over at Pharyngula or somewhere, no doubt. So I can pretty much say what the hell I like about your future, and you’ll never know.
I wish I was an Aquarius…
Pisces:
I thought I could do
your horoscope in haiku
But it was too short
*Please note that all actions are taken at the reader’s own risk and that Right To Think is not responsible for any maiming, loss of vision, burns, death, bankruptcy or global disasters that may result from following the advice given.
Here’s what I’ve seen in the stars this month. Bear in mind that it’s April Fool’s Day today, so in the spirit of tomfoolery, one of the horoscopes below is completely made up! See if you can guess which one.
Aries:
An onion the size of a small dog features in your stars this week. It may mean that you need to peel back the onion-like layers of your personality to uncover the “real” you, or perhaps that you will shed tears (like when you chop an onion) this month. Or it may mean that I should lay off the sherry.
Taurus:
On the 15th, you will discover an old Orange Kit-Kat down the side of the sofa. Since this confectionery has now been discontinued, you realise you could make a mint by auctioning it on eBay. As the bids climb higher, you will fantasise about paying off your mortgage, re-doing the kitchen or perhaps buying that yacht you’ve always wanted. Sadly, midnight munchies strike during the small hours, and before you know what you’re doing, the orangey chocolate is in your belly. Your dreams of fiscal security shattered, you resign yourself to a continued life among the proles.
Gemini:
They say misery loves company, but also that three’s a crowd. With that in mind, you probably shouldn’t attend any parties this month. Your lucky breed of pig is a Gloucestershire Old Spot.
Cancer:
I was a bit stoned when I put your horoscope together so my notes don’t make much sense… Let’s see – “purging Valkyries” – not sure what that was about… “a joyous reunion” – that looks promising… “buy milk” – that’s a note to myself, ignore that bit… “cola-flavoured nipple tassels” – I think there might be some romantic liason in the offing, possibly with a bulimic Valkyrie… “stabbed through the eye” – doesn’t sound so good. Make of that what you will, I’m off down the shops. Your lucky nut is a walnut. Or possibly a wing-nut, I can’t really read my handwriting here.
Leo:
If you could buy a ham as big as your own torso, would you go for it? That’s the question you’ll have to answer on Thursday, when Harry The Hairy Ham-Seller comes round to your home to offer you the largest piece of pig-meat you’ve seen in your life. I suggest you go for it – one can never have too much ham. Unless you die from ham-poisoning – that would be too much.
Virgo:
If you visit a theme park this month, be sure to wear a big, floppy hat. You’ll thank me afterwards, I promise. Also, take a penknife – that trapped child’s leg isn’t going to saw itself off, you know!
Libra:
For a bit of a change, I decided to try and do your fortune with Tarot cards this month. A change is as good as a rest, and all that. Well, bugger me if I can understand what’s going on with them. There’s a bloke on a horse, and a big pile of sticks… oh, the Nine of Wands, that’s something to do with badminton, isn’t it? The Fool – well, that’s either you or me, not sure which yet – the Three of Cups, which has to do with charitable works; a man with a sword, probably means you’ll get a pay rise or maybe lose an armchair, not really sure… hell, I can’t make head nor tail of this shit. I’m going to have a crack at the I Ching next month, maybe that will work a bit better. Sorry.
Scorpio:
You’ll need nerves of steel this month, as a strange series of coincidences arising from a boating accident will culminate in you driving a Formula One car around Silverstone. Although you’ll survive, indeed, do tolerably well (the stars have you in either fourth or seventh place, maybe both), a second series of bizarre occurences will lead everyone to belive that you are, in fact, Kimi Raikonnen, the Finnish race-car driver.
NB. If you actually are Kimi Raikonnen, none of this will seem in the least bit out of the ordinary.
Sagittarius:
A regrettable encounter with an overly boistrous penguin will land you in hospital this month. The injuries are minor, but your self-esteem will suffer more.
Capricorn:
Marmalade is unlucky for you this month, so you should steer clear of breakfast unless you’re feeling courageous. Otherwise, the outlook for Capricorns is generally positive – money, romance, fame, yadda yadda yadda. But seriously, stay clear of the marmalade.
Aquarius:
I know you aren’t reading this, Aquarians, so I’d just like to say what a shoddy bunch of losers you are for not visiting this blog. What is it with you people? What the hell is your problem? You don’t like the font or something?
Pisces:
Stuffing your underwear with tulips might have seemed like a romantic idea at the time, but your significant other is not best pleased – their tulip phobia, successfully repressed since childhood, is now back in force, and strongly associated with your pants. Next time, maybe check these things out first – sponenaeity is cute, but it can also be deadly. I remember my then-girlfriend once jumped out at me from behind a door – my highly trained lethal ninja skills had taken her head off before I could stop myself. They never found the body, though.
The World’s First Completely Accurate Horoscope. Probably, The World’s Most Accurate Horoscope (Redux) and now The World’s Most Accurate Horoscope Revisited are still top of the bestseller lists as far as my blog’s hit rate is concerned, so I’ve decided to make this a regular series. Here are your stars for March – hope you like ‘em…
Aries:
Your fear of clowns will be responsible for an unfortunate and embarrassing accident this week. After you’ve dried yourself off, perhaps you should consider therapy. A programme of systematic clown exposure will help you get over this debilitating phobia, and allow you to live a normal life. Failing that, perhaps you should quit your job at the circus.
Taurus:
Remember Terry, the weedy kid from primary school? You’re going to run into him in a bar this week, and be severely depressed when you discover that he’s now more handsome, richer and (as you find out after a few drinks) substantially better-endowed than you. Bitterly, you will wander home and masturbate into an old gym sock, dreaming of happier days when you could make him eat slugs for a laugh. On the upside, the following week you will hear from another old schoolfriend about Terry’s unfortunate demise under the wheels of a Number 49 bus. And yes, the joy you will feel does make you a bad person.
Gemini:
Venus rising in Solihull this week means that weevils will have found their way into your underwear drawer again. You should really invest in a lock for that thing. Your lucky continent is South America.
Cancer:
Fancying yourself a dab hand with a nailgun, you will embark upon a series of senseless murders this week, culminating in an attack on washed-up comedian Michael Barrymore. At the trial, the judge will inexplicably pardon you, because you remind him of his long lost daughter, Stephanie. In a horribly ironic twist, it will subsequently transpire that Stephanie was one of the first people you nailed to death, and the judge’s remorse will cause him to go on a murderous rampage far worse than yours. Are you satified now?
Leo:
Look, I told you to stop calling me. I’m going to get the police involved if you do it again.
Virgo:
Aliens are going to abduct you this week, and take you to their home planet of Ka’plog, where you will be shown many fascinating spiral patterns. Regrettably, pretty patterns are the best the Ka’plogites can muster in the way of aweing their visitors, and you will quickly become bored. Tired of your constant complaining and demands for Oreos, the aliens will return you to Earth, where your story will only be believed by a small dog named Wilbur.
Libra:
Being a Libra is all about balance, so it’s unfortunate that a minor inner-ear infection is going to make you all wobbly this week. As you plummet face-first down the staircase for the umpteenth time, consider that the Universe clearly has a well-developed sense of irony.
Scorpio:
KER-SPLUKisssh-KA-pif-ga-SPROINNGGG! is a fair approximation of the noise your toaster will make next Thursday. On investigation, you will discover a tiny mermaid trapped in the workings. How she got there is a mystery, even to the stars, but you can at least make a bit of cash exhibiting her before a curious public. Sadly, she will pass away within a few days, and, curious, you will fry her in garlic butter and eat her diminutive corpse for tea. She tastes a bit like sardines.
Sagittarius:
Wandering nomads pass through your kitchen this Wednesday, searching for new trade routes. You will explain to them, through a combination of sign-language and fevered gesticulation, that this new route should probably not encompass your fridge-freezer. Mollified, they agree to experiment with tunnelling. Your lucky rodent is a capybara.
Capricorn:
Although work may be dragging you down, keep your chin up! Your boss has noticed all the extra hours you’ve been putting in. He’s not going to do anything about it, or even mention it, but he has noticed, I promise… Your lucky Baldwin is Alec.
Aquarius:
The Lottery numbers for this week are 6, 7, 21, 33, 35, 38 and 41. Since no Aquarians read this blog, that bit of information is going to be totally wasted.
Pisces:
You will gain fame and fortune in the fields of physics, economics and experimental mathematics when you finally reveal your mathematical proof that Time=Money. Not since Einstein’s famous equation has there been such a major breakthrough in science! There is, unfortunately, a slight fly in the ointment – it’s taken you so long to formulate this theory that you have successfully proven yourself bankrupt. That, my friend, will teach you to be such a clever dick.
It seems to make no difference – whatever I put up on the internet, the posts which garner the most traffic for me are, without a doubt, The World’s First Completely Accurate Horoscope. Probably, and The World’s Most Accurate Horoscope (Redux). It’s amazing how often the words “accurate” and “horoscope” appear together in Google searches; and ironic, considering that (and I’m directing this statement to all those who found this page whilst searching for “accurate horoscopes”) ASTROLOGY IS NOT ACCURATE! It is, in fact, completely made up – unlike the predictions below, which are, as ever, uncannily precise…
Aries:
On Thursday, you will lose two fingers to a particularly sadistic trout at your local fish counter. At least you know it’s fresh! On the positive side, Jupiter rises in Pisces this month, meaning that fish-related incidents are highly fortuitous – as you’ll find out, when the trout turns out to be a princess who has been transformed into a fish by an evil wizard! You have no way of turning her back into a human, though, and the bitch just ate two of your digits, so I suggest you pan-fry her with a little herb butter.
Taurus:
A case of mistaken identity will this week plunge you into the shadowy world of international espionage. Try not to lose the briefcase. If you get shot at, remember that it’s your own fault for wearing that stupid-looking trilby. Your lucky light-bulb is 60W.
Gemini:
Look, it’s probably best we try and forget the whole ugly incident, alright? We’d both been drinking, it didn’t mean anything. Besides, at least the staff at the emergency room got a laugh out of it. Let’s just be friends, and steer well clear of the people at the bonsai centre in future, eh?
Cancer:
Due to a glitch in the space-time continuum, this week you will meet a future version of yourself from next October. You’re probably better off asking them about what the future holds, since they’ve actually been there. Fine – ask away. I only spent three days putting your bloody star-chart together, but no, you just go ahead and ask them instead. Ingrate. I’m not going to tell you what your lucky item of furniture is, and it was a really good one, too.
Leo:
If someone bets you that you can’t fit a whole hamster in your mouth this week, don’t take the bet. Trust me, you can’t. I know they don’t look very big, but they’re really fluffy and they wriggle. It’ll end in tears, I promise you. Don’t believe me? Well, if you want to go against the predictions of the stars, alright then. I’ll bet you ten pounds you can’t fit a whole hamster in your mouth…
Virgo:
Mars conjucting with some comet or other means that money may or may not be coming your way. I don’t know how much. Look, it’s not an exact science, alright? And it might not be money, it might be a zebra. Could go either way, really. Or maybe nothing will happen, I dunno.
Libra:
Love is in the air this week, in the form of a toxic green fume. Sometimes I get love and chlorine mixed up – don’t know what that’s about. Probably something Freudian. Anyway, love is in the air, and if you inhale too much of it, it will fuck your lungs up.
Scorpio:
On Tuesday you will get an itch in the small of your back – one of those really annoying ones that you can’t quite reach.
Sagittarius:
The lads at work have clubbed together to throw you a surprise party on Friday night. Of course, I’ve rather ruined the surprise now… They want to say how much they’ve enjoyed working with you, and how sorry they are that you’re leaving. You aren’t leaving? Oh – they haven’t told you yet. Shit.
Er… surprise!
Capricorn:
The disconcertingly serene cultists who knock on your door on Thursday will actually seem to make a lot of sense. You will feel drawn to join their peculiar brand of mysticism, and before the week is out, you will have shaved your head and changed your name to “Shining Moon-Sister”. However, problems will ensue when you meet the cult’s leader, whom you will recognise as the man who put in that dodgy double-glazing for you a few years back. In a fit of pique, you will form a breakaway sect, but no-one will join and you will end up returning to your old life, a sadder and wiser individual. Your lucky sofa is a Chesterfield.
Aquarius:
I couldn’t be bothered to do your horoscope this week. I’m not sure any Aquarians read this blog, anyway.
Pisces:
This is good week for travel, especially overseas. I know, it would have helped to know that a few months back when you were booking your holidays, but there you go. You’ll have to make do with the commute to and from work, instead.
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.
Wifeshui and I were having a discussion this morning about horoscopes, and I was pointing out the ways in which vague predictions can be interpreted to mean something to almost anybody, when it struck me that there’s a real market for more specific horoscopes. With that in mind, I present this week’s astrological predictions with utter precision. There’s not a hint of vagueness in any of these, so they will either be entirely wrong – or spookily accurate…
Aries:
You like Camembert cheese, and will have a craving for it on Thursday. Unfortunately your local branch of Spar will have sold out, and you will have to be content with Brie. On a more positive note, you’ll find they sell delicious bagels.
Taurus:
On Tuesday, you will have a near fatal accident with an electric toaster oven. Your lucky shoe is a brogue.
Gemini:
Breathing is the key to your future. If you stop, you may suffer unfortunate consequences. Venus rising in Capricorn suggests you should buy a new car.
Cancer:
Nobody likes you. Why are you still here?
Leo:
A large amount of money is coming your way – £436.82, to be exact. However, it will be entirely in the form of pennies, and the weight of them will overbalance you and cause you to fall into a canal.
Virgo:
Badgers feature heavily in your future this week – on Monday three of them will attempt to eat your legs. You will survive this attack, but the blood loss will cause strange hallucinations, in which you witness a badger riding a pogo stick and preaching an entirely new religious message of peace and harmony. Your attempts to bring this message to the world will end in failure, however, when you trip over a badger-shaped hedge in the hospital car-park and break your neck.
Libra:
Destiny calls you this week, but you’re going to mis-hear and think it’s calling you a whore. In the ensuing fight, you will fall and bang your left knee against a trouser-press. Your lucky hat is a Panama.
Scorpio:
On Friday, you will look under your sofa for some loose change and discover an entire civilisation of tiny homunculi living underneath. They will worship you as a god, and sacrifice woodlice to you. You can try ordering them to make war in your name, if you like. However, the disruption to their peaceful way of live will result in the collapse of their society by about 4pm on Sunday, so enjoy the sense of power while it lasts.
Sagittarius:
I’m sorry to say that nothing of any interest is due to happen to you this week at all. Every day will be a monotonous litany of tedium. Your lucky spoon is a dessert-spoon.
Capricorn:
Your family will drop in on you unannounced this week, on Wednesday. Of course, now you know, you can make preparations in advance. Think how impressed they’ll be when they see your clean, tidy home! Unfortunately, your mother will have one sherry too many, and embarrass herself (and you) in front of your strangely attractive next-door neighbour.
Aquarius:
Mars rising in Cancer suggests that love is on the horizon! But it’s actually just a wisp of cumulonimbus cloud. You feel let down by the universe. Buy yourself some chocolate.
Pisces:
A man with a huge, malformed head will try and sell you meteor insurance on Saturday. Best take it – Sunday will see your house bombarded by tiny fragments of interstellar rock. Not only will you be comprehensively covered, but scientists from NASA will visit your house, and one of them will turn out to be the girl you had a crush on at primary school! She’s done well for herself, and is looking to settle down in Yorkshire and have babies. I reckon you’re in there. Your lucky fish is herring.
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