Your astrological week ahead for February 24th, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

When someone new enters a meeting, turn to the person next to you and say ‘Well, he’s here now, you can tell him to his face.’

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

Pool party! Whooo! Oh no, it’s lane swim until 4pm.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

Don’t forget to register to vape!

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

Have you ever actually tried taking candy from a baby? The fuckers have got some grip on them.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

“Reverse cowgirl? What, so not in the old West, can’t ride horses, has minimal roping skills? Is that what you’re into?”

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

This week, you meet someone whose glasses are such a natural and intrinsic part of their face that without astigmatism their features would be hideously plain and ready-salted.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

In hit song S&M, Rihanna claimed that ‘chains and whips excite me’. She has since clarified she meant chain restaurants and Walnut Whips.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

Go to the football holding up a handwritten sign asking for the referee’s shirt at full time.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

Suffering vaginal dryness? Have you tried checking for packets of silica gel?

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

Everything is cashless now. Only perverts carry money. If you try to pay with a fiver you get put on a register.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

Your drag queen name is Dado Rail. Sorry, all the good ones are taken.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

The other day you Googled Fatboy Slim, just to see what he’s up to. You wonder if he ever does the same for you.

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on… let's hope Tory voters like wiping arses, eh, Cleverly?

WAKING up in a septic tank in a pool of urine not exclusively my own, following a sequence of events with which I shall not detain you, I wearily clamber out and take stock of recent events. 

It seems that voices within the Church of England ecclesiastical authorities have suggested that my weekly sermons at the Abbey be prefaced with ‘trigger warnings’ to alert churchgoers to ‘violent language and sexual swear words not used in polite company’. 

Stunned, I retorted by return of email as follows: ‘Fuck’s sake, you bunch of skirt-gathering, lily-livered fucks, if this was something actually fucking offensive, like an old episode of Dad’s Army going on about ‘fuzzy wuzzies’, I’d understand, but this is our rich and poetic fucking Anglo-Saxon language that predates fucking Chaucer, so fucking well fuck off.’

The matter settled, I repair to my chambers, there to take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein I read that home secretary James Cleverly wishes to ban overseas care workers bringing dependants to this country.

Fuck me on the fucking sideboard, you people get more vindictively racist by the day, don’t you? You think this is gonna fucking fly with your core voters? Every day more and more of them are counting on underpaid care workers to wipe their arses, because their own fucking families are too busy waiting for them to die and hand over their inheritance to fucking do it for them!

On the television set, I see that Quentin Letts, Daily Mail sketch writer and author of an upcoming book entitled Stop Bloody Bossing Me About, has weighed in on the issue of the menopause. He explained that he fully understands the condition due to suffering from occasional painful knees and sometimes requiring a nap following a surfeit of wine.

Oh my sacred fucking fanny, there must be some women on hand in your pompous, pampered little life to inflict the pain you deserve for this mansplaining bollocks with a kick in the aforementioned bollocks? Hurty knees! A fucking hangover! Talk about always seeing the small picture! You are an absolute waste of fucking space that could be put to better use staring pointlessly into, you absolute piss troll of a twat! 

Secretary of state for business and trade Kemi Badenoch is involved in another row, this time with Canada, which has denied her claim that trade talks are continuing and have not broken down. She is tipped to be the next leader of the Conservative Party.

Roast my cock and put it in a fucking artichoke salad, who do you think people are gonna believe on this one? The country of Canada, or Kemi Badenoch, who, every time she opens her mouth, makes actual hairy, sweaty fucking testicles tumble out? Next Tory leader? I can well believe it, because with each iteration they get fucking worse. What will the next one after her be like? A bright blue parrot on a fucking perch blowing dog whistles 24 hours a fucking day? Fuck!

Finally, recent Trident tests have shown that the nuclear deterrent is malfunctioning, causing a missile to go off course and veer in the direction of the US. Defence minister Grant Schapps has offered ‘assurances’ that such a mishap would not occur in an actual war.

Did he fucking now? If these things are ever fired then we’ll be sizzling fucking radioactive toast! We’ll be too busy being incinerated to give a shit whether our retaliatory shots took out St Petersburg. Maybe the takeaway from this is that these things are a colossal fucking waste of money and since we’re all about not maxing out the fictional credit card these days, maybe we should get rid? Still, in the meantime you can’t do much more for nuclear disarmament than plopping them in the fucking sea.