Your astrological week ahead for February 28th, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

A Marmite tanker runs aground off the south coast. Beaches are ruined, seabirds covered in it, fish die in their millions from its incredible toxicity. This is why we don’t export it.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

Why not call your first-born Sugar Tits? Or Louise, if it’s a girl.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

If war broke out in a full English breakfast, bacon, sausage and black pudding would be natural allies. Likewise beans and tomatoes. Egg would stay neutral. Mushrooms would be a rogue third faction. Bread would be destroyed in the crossfire.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

So irritating when you pop out to the shops for ten minutes and get back to find your flat’s now a branch of Costa.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

You know you’re getting old when you grunt every time you sit down on your huge dildo.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

“Big bad wolf got outsmarted by three pigs. Pathetic. What a loser. He should’ve gobbled those chubby piggy boys right up. Low-tier kids story.”

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

Yes, here in Sweden we all enjoy much sex with each other all of the time. You see, it is the only pleasure which is not at a 400 per cent mark-up.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

Honestly, I have the handwriting of a serial killer. Harold Shipman’s, cost me £20 on eBay.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

This is the perfect storm, as I said when Halle Berry was cast in X-Men.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

‘Build it and they will come’. Good film line, excellent slogan for a sperm bank.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

Wined and dined? No I was wined, fined and banned from driving for six months.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

“Do you have any un-holy grails? Like not evil, just a regular grail?”

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on… the shameful bloodsport of persecuting Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor

WAKING with a hangover so excruciating that in desperation I bite my dog, as a dog’s hair apparently alleviates the effect, I masticate thoughtfully on fur and reflect on a momentous few days.

Sensing that president Trump’s State of the Union address may be open to criticism, I arranged for a simultaneous broadcast from Westminster Abbey. My own State of the Cunt address would be a blow-by-blow critique of the President’s speech from the pulpit.

Broadcast live worldwide and drawing on the rich heritage of Anglo-Saxon language to pepper my remarks, it reached a worldwide audience of 400 million, a YouTube record, watched by people of all nations, all creeds, all faiths and, myself included, none.

Permitting myself a pulse of self-congratulation, I read that Ian Maxwell, brother of Ghislaine, has described his sister as a ‘prop in the theatre of global outrage’ and notes ‘my family name has become a byword for scandal. My father Robert went from press baron to tabloid monster within weeks of his death in 1991.’

Yeah, well as I seem to well remember, there was a fucking reason for that, wasn’t there? What the fuck are you complaining about, you oblivious cunt? The demonisation of actual fucking demons? Your sister was a co-conspirator in the trafficking of underage women, your father plundered millions from his employees’ pension fund and if he hadn’t fucking topped himself, the dreadful, bullying hulk of twat’s elephantine arse would have been dragged off to jail for life, as well he fucking knew! The state of you scum!

Home secretary Shabana Mahmood has been granted permission to challenge the high court’s ruling that baning Palestine Action under anti-terrorism laws was unlawful.

You fucking won’t let this go, will you? Harassing pensioners protesting genocide while selling arms to Israel, all while re-legislating the English language until ‘terrorism’ means ‘ideas that reveal our fundamental evil’. Fuck you! 

The Spectator’s Brendan O’ Neill has decried ‘the digital hounding of Andrew Mountbatten-Windsor… the shame, right now, belongs less to Andrew than to those who have made a bloodsport from his troubles.’

Bloodsport! And we’re not talking about the actual bloodsport the fucking Royal Family loves, massacring grouse and shit. We’re talking about the disgraced cunt looking like the closing scenes of a Terminator movie and people taking the piss, knowing that this is probably the worst he’s likely to fucking get! Even among the dwindling band who find your performative, contrived contrarianism amusing, this stretches fucking patience! Read the room. Read the fucking country! 

Finally, Labour have been defeated in the Gorton and Denton byelection, with the Green party taking a famous victory.

The best political news in a fucking generation and a vindication of my decision to crack out the rum at 6.30am! Farage, you have been fucked! Labour, you have been double-fucked! The people haven’t just spoken, they have fucking sworn! Fuck the racists, fuck the pragmatists, fuck the cowards, fuck the opportunists, fuck, fuck, fuck for fucking joy!