Your astrological week ahead for October 10th, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

History repeats itself: the first time as tragedy, the second time as Ray Cooney’s Run For Your Wife, now in its sixth smash hit year at London’s Criterion Theatre.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

You take your usual seat and open up your ‘Songs to openly weep to on the bus’ playlist on Spotify. Ah, Monday.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

Your height in feet plus seven is the length of boa constrictor you should own.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

Manchester City should give back all their trophies, medals, footballs, cones, bibs and those weird fake blokes they use to bend free kicks over during training.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

Nice day for a… black pudding. Come on, Billy Idol, I’m just saying think about it.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

You misread the sign. There isn’t a toll on the Dartford Crossing. There’s a troll and he shall ask you riddles three.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

[rearranges deckchairs on Titanic into perfectly serviceable boat] “Not so dumb now huh, motherf**kers?”

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

Careful wearing tartan skirts. Someone may try to hold a picnic on you.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

No one has asked me, AA Route Planner, for directions in years and I demand to know why.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

Is Sabrina Carpenter still around, or has she dwindled away to nothing?

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

AI hallucinates, but it’s way less fun than getting it from an authentic pub bullshitter. Shop organic.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

“A man should spend a month’s salary on an engagement ring? Why, then I can afford to get engaged to 12 ladies this year alone!”

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on… Jeffrey Archer, philanthropist who kept charity shops in shitty books

WAKING up with a hangover so piercingly acute that several of my potted plants wither and die after being exposed to its radiation, I reflect on another tumultuous few days. 

It began when I read of Tory shadow minister Blake Stephenson’s remarks at conference that the town of Luton had ‘no-go areas’ for white people. I sent for him. On his arrival, I ushered him in and said, sotto voce, ‘It was brave of you to come. For you see, there are no-go areas in London, including my own.’

‘What, Lambeth?’ gasped the shadow minister.

‘Oh, yes. I am only exempt because of my religious status. Are you English?’

‘Yes – and proud of it!’

‘Really? If the sharia law enforcers find out you’re English, trespassing in a no-go area, they’ll cut your balls off. In fact I think I hear them coming down the corridor now! They must suspect something. Come with me.’ 

And so I took him down to a cellar with a bucket in the corner. ‘You’ll need to stay here until I can spirit you away. Best if I lock you in. I’ll push sandwiches under the door. Sit tight.’

Well, it’s been four days now. I occasionally hear him cry out. Remiss of me not to have fed him for two days. Tomorrow, perhaps. 

The problem thus resolved, I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein, I read that Kemi Badenoch has said that if elected she would build an Israeli-style ‘Iron Dome’ to protect the UK from missiles. Experts, however, said it would be ineffective. Badenoch countered by saying she wasn’t an expert so did not know how the system would work, but had been assured that it would.

Fuck my dog and cat, are you having some sort of bet on who can be the stupidest fucking Tory leader of the 21st century? I’m sure there’ll be no shortage of ‘defence’ companies who’ll gladly take the billions you’d suck out of the welfare state to fund this dense idea, which would be about as useful as the fucking umbrella Wile E Coyote puts up as a giant boulder descends on him! This would be the whitest and most elephantine of fucking white elephants! And who the fuck do you think is going to bomb Britain? The fucking Russians? They’ve advanced about 20 yards into fucking Ukraine over the last five years. Belgium? Sweden? Fuckwit that you are!

An internal inquiry carried out by Reform has concluded that the party did not break the law over the ‘donations sting’ captured on camera.

Well that fucking settles the matter! Not much point in the Metropolitan Police investigation now, is there? In other news, Donald Trump has been found not guilty by Donald Trump of being a liar, a crook and a rapist. Jack the Ripper merely liked a harmless stroll of an evening, rules Judge Jack the Ripper. Fuck right off, Reform, from Clacton in the direction of the fucking sea, you cunts!

Andy Burnham has caused alarm among other Premier League clubs following his statement that he would be ‘really concerned’ if Manchester City’s Abu Dhabi owners pulled out of their investment in the club after it was found guilty of 115 charges of economic malpractice.

Fucking hell, you’d better be careful about how many bollocks you drop, pal, because right now you’ve only got one left! This is a statement you should have left in the thought cloud, not put in a fucking speech balloon! Could it be that the wonders you supposedly worked as Manchester mayor were in part funded by a bunch of corrupt, despotic bastards? And now you’re trying to lean on the FA in gratitude to your fucking paymasters? Well, let me tell you, Mr Britpop, Mr Bloke, Mr Football, there are a fuck of a lot of football fans in this country and most of them fucking hate Man City! I’d fucking row back on this one as far as your arse can carry you!

Finally, it seems that Jeffrey Archer has died at the age of 86. 

They say that if you can’t think of something nice to say about someone when they pass away that’s probably because there is nothing nice to say about them. They might be, for example, a horrible, lying, criminal, disgraced Tory arsehole who churned out fucking worthless novels that wasted vast amounts of cultural space! A piece of perjuring, life-destroying, thieving, plagiarising shit, also! A banana-faced cunt of the worst water! The best thing you can say about him is that his fuck-awful novels nobody wanted to read twice gave charity shops something to sell!