Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Pisces (20 FEB-20 MAR)
On Friday, you decide to make yourself some of that fancy vodka with gold flakes in, and head out to the shops to pick up a cheese-grater and a goldfish.  

Aries (21 MAR-19 APRIL)
This week, why not write 30 open letters a day to people you perceive to have criticised your parenting? That seems worthwhile.

Taurus (20 APRIL–20 MAY)
It’s a great week for you financially, because you were born with money. 

Gemini (21 MAY-20 JUN)
Your crystal is quartz, your spirit animal is a seahorse, your aura colour is aquamarine and your card has declined so I’m going to need cash.

Cancer (21 JUN-22 JUL)
A party on Friday goes badly, as you learn you can’t claim diplomatic immunity to get out of a game of Diplomacy. 

Leo (23 JUL-22 AUG)
A personal triumph for you on Saturday, as your song Truck Away The Pain hits number one on the Billboard Hot Country chart. Unfortunately you live in Britain, where nobody gives a fuck.

Virgo (23 AUG-22 SEP)
If you have one ambition in life, it’s to be the bloke who looks a bit like Martin Clunes in the opening credits to Cheers.

Libra (23 SEP-23 OCT)
You’re kicked out of Weight Watchers tomorrow when you ask why they’re not called Chubby Checkers.

Scorpio (24 OCT-21 NOV)
No news from Dave on your show idea Meth History, where comedians munted on crack recount historical events while hustling handjobs for spare change.

Sagittarius (22 NOV-21 DEC)
Today you’ll celebrate the announcement of a new Indiana Jones film by smashing every single film camera in the world.

Capricorn (22 DEC-19 JAN)
It’s been some time since you nourished your spiritual side so this Sunday why not light some candles, adopt a relaxing position, take some deep breaths and watch Nuns On The Run again?

Aquarius (20 JAN-19 FEB)
Some of your best friends are black. Given the fact they’re all imaginary, they can basically be any colour you want.

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Smug baby post followed by revolting arse-wiping

A WOMAN posted a self-satisfied Facebook status update about her baby and then had to clean up its liquid shit, it has emerged.

Donna Sheridan uploaded a pic of her six-month-old son Tyler with the caption ‘My special one’ seconds before a vile runny mess exploded out of his arse.

She admitted: “Despite my stream of vapid internet posts about the joy of motherhood, I’m secretly finding it a terrifying challenge which I feel totally unqualified for. It takes me 45 minutes to put my tights on because I’m constantly monitoring for potentially fatal hazards.

“Also the shitting, so much shitting. Tyler expels enough faeces that it’s like his entire body is full of it, like how a Creme Egg is full of fondant.

“Anyway, I over-compensate by projecting a flimsy public image of maternal bliss that has little substance.”

Sheridan subsequently posted a picture of Tyler captioned ‘My joy’ minutes before he puked directly into her left eye.