Your astrological week ahead for February 17th, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

Any school’s a boarding school if you forget to pick your kids up.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

Murder she wrote, larceny she sang, aggravated assault and battery she communicated through the medium of modern interpretative dance.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

Listen, we’ve heard the songs, we’ve seen the film, but has anyone here actually ever worn Prada?

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

“I want to thank you. For the advice you gave me? That flying fuck at that rolling donut was the best sexual experience of my life.”

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

This message is sponsored by Subwayminal AdverTizering.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

The thing with opera is, how do people know they can do that? Can you do that? Have you ever tried?

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

Einstein’s theory of relativity, Gödel’s incompleteness theorem, Von Neumann’s paradox: all invented by Peggy Shufflebottom. But she knew they’d never sell under that name.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

Scorpio is the sexiest sign of the zodiac, as represented by the sexy, sexy scorpion.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

A middle-class red light district: oboe lessons, French teachers, ballet schools, all shouting lewdly at passing Volvos for business. ‘Private tuition’ signs in phone boxes.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

Change the expression ‘cost of living’ to ‘price of not dying’ and it sounds way more dystopian.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

‘Dogger?’ ‘No, German Bight,’ you tell the stranger in the woods.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

All you want is to walk into a room and receive the applause reserved for a sitcom’s celebrity guest, one who has a well-known connection with a cast regular allowing for a series of knowing jokes the audience laps up.

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on... why nobody should be in the f**king Eurovision Song Contest

WAKING up in a cryogenic freezing machine, I lift the lid and wonder at what point in the future I have arrived. 

I purchased the 1970s contraption on eBay and put it to the maximum setting with a view to escaping the less than gracious age of the 2020s. After imbibing several bottles of overproof rum with no fear of a hangover, I settled myself down, adopting the repose of a medieval saint.

I clamber out. My bedchamber is remarkably as I remember it. I go to the window and scan the skies for jetpacks and hovercars but find none. I check the machine – it says ‘February 2024’. It seems this was as far as it was capable of projecting, meaning I have been in it for three weeks. Brilliant. 

Sending for a sledgehammer I methodically smash the machine to pieces then take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein I read that the American election is likely to be a close-run thing between the eccentric septuagenarian Donald Trump and the forgetful octogenarian Joe Biden.

Hitler’s missing gonad on a fucking kebab skewer, is there not one other person in the entire United States under the age of 75 who’s prepared to put themselves up for running the country? Talk about a fucking gerontocracy – if Henry Kissinger hadn’t died he might have had a fucking go at it! If you ask me, no one over the age of 60 should be allowed to vote, let alone stand for political office. Now we’ve got a fascist orange nutjob in an eight-foot-long tie and some old fuck-fossil who needs cue cards to remember his own name. Give the fucking country back to the Native Americans and have done, you Yank twats!

Rachel Reeves and Keir Starmer have both pledged to restrict public spending, on the basis that under the Conservatives the country ‘maxed out its credit card’.

Will you fucking stop it with this condescending, economically illiterate bollocks? THE ECONOMY ISN’T LIKE A FUCKING HOUSEHOLD AND IT’S GOT FUCK ALL TO DO WITH CREDIT CARDS! If you believe that you’re an idiot, and if you don’t, you’re a cold, cynical fucker who should bypass politics completely and go straight to hosting your own podcast for ageing centrist cocks! I mean, what kind of a household has some members of it sleeping rough in the fucking garden, for a start?

Boy George and Helen Mirren are among a group of celebrities who have signed a letter condemning calls for Israel to be thrown out of this year’s Eurovision Song Contest. They feel such an act would reduce the competition to a political tool.

Sure, let’s not let a small matter like a war affect the integrity of the Eurovision fucking Song Contest, eh? Israel shouldn’t be in the Eurovision because they’re not in fucking Europe, for a start. But the main problem is no one should be allowed in the Eurovision Song Contest because there shouldn’t be a fucking Eurovision Song Contest. A gigantic, camp waste of everyone’s time that should have gone the same way as fucking Miss World decades ago!

Finally, it seems that British Gas’s profits have leapt from £72 million to £751 million in a year.

Well, that’s fucking heartening, isn’t it? A feelgood story about a British-owned company defying the odds during a cost-of-living crisis and turning a huge profit. Makes your fucking Union Jack garters ride up and down with joy, doesn’t it? You thieving bunch of extortionist toerags! People freezing but as long as your fucking mates have got their snouts wedged in an overflowing trough than all’s well, eh? I hope you fuckers spend eternity where there’s no need for fucking central heating!