Your Astrological Week Ahead, With Psychic Bob

Leo (23 JUL-22 AUG)
Success in the Dragon’s Den as you secure £500,000 worth of investment in your machine that fires snakes at Duncan Bannatyne.

Virgo (23 AUG-22 SEP)
Always remember that you’re just a single pulse in the beam of a higher energy, a shared thought in the collective consciousness of the universe and that love is the only universal truth. You dozy shitehawk.

Libra (23 SEP-23 OCT)
Bismillah! NO! We will not let you go! Well, that parole hearing could have gone better.

Scorpio (24 OCT-21 NOV)
No matter how irreplaceable you may think you are, bear in mind you can always be substituted by a lookalike for a third of the cost. A Welsh lookalike, no less.

Sagittarius (22 NOV-21 DEC)
That one with Owen Wilson and the one from Friends – not the one who looks like a crow, the other one – and I think there’s a dog in it? That’s what your week’s going to be like.

Capricorn (22 DEC-19 JAN)
This week the librarian tears your membership card into dozens of tiny pieces and tosses them into your weeping face because you attempted to take out a John Grisham novel. You’re lucky she didn’t kick your genitals clean off.

Aquarius (20 JAN-19 FEB)
No Sicilian can ever refuse a request on his daughter’s wedding day. So why not ask him to turn his criminal empire over to you and fuck off back to Palermo.

Pisces (20 FEB-20 MAR)
I’ve had a word with Jesus and he’s told me to tell you that you were a total waste of nails.

Aries (21 MAR-19 APR)
Warning bells should be ringing this week when Channel 5 say they want to make a documentary about your family.

Taurus (20 APRIL – 20 MAY)
Everyone thinks the sun shines out of your arse but it’s actually a condom stuffed full of glow worms.

Gemini (21 MAY-20 JUN)
A tricky one this week as you draw I, S, T, I, N, G  and F while playing scrabble with your gran. Tell her it’s another word for crochet.

Cancer (21 JUN-22 JUL)
Nobody is going to take you seriously if you continue to smell of midfielder’s balls.


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Your Problems Solved, With Holly Harper

Dear Holly,
There are two men at work who appear to want to sex me, but I can’t decide between them. One of them has a great body, sexy hair, and a chiselled jaw, but he works in the canteen and drives a Nissan Micra. The other is balding, has a paunch, and smells of bins. However, he’s an executive, and I am pretty sure he’ll buy me lots of expensive stuff if I let him touch my clacker. How can I decide between the two?

Dear Zilla,
If I were you, I’d steer clear of both of them. I had to make a similar decision when picking a partner for American country dancing, which Mrs Paisley sometimes makes us do at playtime because she’s about 700 years old and mental. I had to choose between Oliver French, who picks his nose and eats it, or Martin Fraser, who always has his hands in his pants. Suffice to say, I made the wrong decision, because I ended up with big grey bogies on my hand all the way through the Kentucky Mountain Square dance. Instead of making an impossible choice, I strongly advise you to pick a nice, clean girl as your partner, or even better, don’t let old ladies trick you into extra-curricular line dancing in the first place.
Hope that helps!