Your astrological week ahead for March 30th, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

It’s not just Easter eggs you should keep away from dogs. They should also be discouraged from consuming an entire Simnel cake.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

Bit late to the party on this, but 32 years ago I turned six.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

Eating sushi off a naked woman going round on a conveyor belt. That’s what you reckon baggage handlers in airports do on quiet nights.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

I like my women like I like my coffee; responsible for poor working conditions and avoidable deaths in the developing world.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

Update: the expression ‘polishing a turd’ has been replaced by ‘put perspex over it and call it a Banksy’.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

Enough shameless self promotion, time to try selfless shame promotion.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

You knew you could mash it, bake it, chop it up and fry it, but did you know you can fuck a potato?

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

Growing up we were so poor we could only afford to have pins OR needles.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

Trying to read articles before the paywall pops up is the Gen Z version of the ten-minute Adult Channel midnight preview.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

This is the Princess of Wales’s star sign, so if you could respect her privacy by not reading it for the duration?

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

A good thing to say to a goose is ‘Talk to me, goose!’ Except when Maverick is around. He does not find that shit funny.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

Don’t condescend, they prefer to be known as manic pixie dream women now.

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on... the Tories' fish-and-chip bullshit

WAKING in John O’ Groats, after having aided my repose with several bottles of malt whisky, I reflect on the events that led me to isolation in the far North. 

For last Tuesday, I suffered a tragedy when I spilled a litre of red wine in my chambers. I cried, for this was not mere milk, then took a Union Jack towel – a gift from the Archbishop of Congo, who is laughingly aware I regard this country as a toxic cesspit best wiped from the face of the earth – mopped up the wine then hung it out to dry.

That evening, I was informed that an image of the towel had ‘gone viral’. I stood accused, as head of the church, of wilfully giving Britain’s flag a ‘woke’ tinge by tampering with the sacred red, white and blue.

Stepping from my palace the next day, I was set upon and pursued by a gang of 40 furious red-faced, stocky middle-aged men. Fortunately, I outran them as one by one they succumbed to heart attacks; nevertheless I felt it expedient to take refuge for a few days in the farthest reaches of Scotland.

The furore having abated, I take the train to London and, esconced in first class, peruse a periodical. Therein I read that Jonathan Gullis has been appointed deputy chair of the Conservative Party.

Paint my arse blue and sit me on a shitty stick, Jonathan Gullis? An actual fucking chair would make a more competent fucking chair than this greased wedge of pure, reactionary-by-numbers, pants-shitting Tory cunt! He won’t be happy till school meals have been replaced by McDonalds, statues of slaveowners are compulsory in every market square and Lady Floella Benjamin is thrown in jail for cultural fucking Marxism! A man who openly fucking guffaws in parliament during debates on child poverty like it’s a Johnny Vegas routine! A man whose own face hates him so much it refuses to grow a proper fucking beard!

The Daily Telegraph believes Cadbury are cancelling Easter after a branch discount store in Spalding, Lincolnshire, displayed signs offering customers a two-for-£10 deal on ‘gesture eggs’.

Yeah, true enough. Remember how they cancelled Christmas back in 1992, a once popular festive season no one under 40 remembers any more? Now they’re gonna do the same to Easter. Today, Spalding, Lincolnshire, tomorrow the fucking world! Seriously, you deranged bunch of Telegraph fuckwads, do you never tire of ignoring the monstrous problems in this world, perpetrated by the pricks you support, in favour of pseudo-indignant stunts like this? Mind you, I’ll tell you fucking what! If Christ did return he’d be all for cancelling Easter! Last thing he wants to be reminded of! Been able to see through his fucking hands for nearly 2,000 years!

Conservative MP Steve Tuckwell has launched a petition in his constituency to establish a fish and chip shop in Uxbridge town centre.

You fucking what? A petition to open a fucking business? How does that work, and how the fuck does it square with Tory free market ideals? Sounds to me like you’re proposing a return to a Soviet-style command economy! Don’t get me wrong, I’d sign up for a fish-and-chip shop, though I’d much sooner sign up for a curry house and you won’t be launching a campaign for one of those! Face, it, pal, this pathetic data-gathering exercise to boost your fucking wafer-thin electoral hopes doubles up as a pitch for the chippy you’ll be working behind the counter of when you get hoofed at the general election!

Finally, The Sun have made great play of a photograph of Prince Harry alongside P Diddy, the hip-hop artist subject to a federal investigation of allegations involving sex trafficking, sexual assault, illegal narcotics and firearms.

P Diddy? Formerly known as Puff Daddy? This isn’t a case where we have to worry about separating the art from the artist, is it? We’re not exactly talking Wagner here? Appallingly shite music, appallingly shite human being! As for Harry, so fucking what? It’s the overpaid job of the likes of Harry to turn up at public functions with famous people and grin for photos! And guess who’s also there, cropped out of the photo you printed? Prince William! Because that’s his sorry fucking job too as well you know, you terminally irrelevant cunts!