Your astrological week ahead for September 20th, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

You know how you deal with a jellyfish sting? You don’t let his insults get to you in the first place.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

[Godzilla trying new angle] “Wow! And tell me, is there a Mister Rodan?”

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

How did Nigel Farage manage to pay £885,000 for a house in Clacton? That’s one f**k of a static caravan.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

Why waste money on fancy English editions? Simply turn on Translate and hold your phone over every paragraph of Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

White goes first in chess. What more proof of structural racism do you need?

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

‘Sit down, scroll Bumble,’ as Kendrick Lamar no doubt intended to write.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

The suits at Big Birthday don’t want you to know this, but you can actually light and blow out a candle any time you like.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

But are the heights being wuthered or doing the wuthering?

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

The reality show Love is Blind would be more interesting with gloryholes.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

This horoscope has been cancelled indefinitely following concerns from senior Disney executives.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

“No, it’s a small village in the Staffordshire moorlands, two pubs, one shop. Hasn’t even got a red light district.”

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

Do other countries feel like they’ve got crap wildlife or is it just us?

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on… Charles, wondering if anyone pissed in the soup

WAKING with a hangover so intense that some sort of silver liquid matter is dribbling from my ears, I reflect upon meeting President Trump during his visit to the UK. 

I was invited to meet Mr Trump in my capacity as head of the church, so I suggested that we might play a round of golf at a course near Windsor. I informed them that it was a pastime with which I was unfamiliar, and whose rudiments he could teach me.

We duly met up on the opening tee, with cameras present for the photo opportunity. With an air of unworldly piety, I clasped my hands around the handle of the club as Mr Trump advised me on stance, grip, swing and so forth. I pulled the club right back, swung, missed the ball entirely and caught the president squarely in the face. 

Nose bloodied, Mr Trump set me up again. I swung and again smashed Mr Trump full in the face. Blood now gashing from a cut beneath his right eye, he set me up a third time, only for me to miss yet again and knock out half a dozen of his teeth. At this point the president’s security stepped in to call a stop to our golfing. 

It so happens that in my youth I was a county golfing champion and know exactly how to handle a club. However it is well-known that Mr Trump likes to feel he is the best player on any course, so naturally I did not divulge this. 

With a wry smile, I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein, I read that King Charles, after hosting a lavish reception for Trump, stated that he had been ‘very easy to deal with’.

Haha, my dead dog’s cock roasted in a bap, was he fuck! You will have had the shittiest time of your life, having to nod politely as the senile fucker rambled on about fuck knows what and his wife stared suicidally into a void! You’d have known the tureen of soup you’ve all been ladled has been comprehensively pissed – and possibly shat – in by the kitchen staff! I bet the excruciation of having to spend time with this fucking moron made you cancel all engagements and go on a fucking three-day bender! Oh yes, I know you like a drop, I’ve seen your fucking capillaries!

Robert Jenrick, writing in the Daily Telegraph, has demanded that studying the Battle of Britain should be compulsory in British schools.

You fucking reckon, eh, Bob? Typical woke lefties, removing it from the fucking curriculum, eh? You know who removed it? Michael fucking Gove. The compulsory World War II topic was removed from the National Curriculum and made optional in 2013 when Gove was education secretary. That’s a fucking spanner in your perpetual indignation machine, isn’t it, you fatuous, flabby-faced cunt! You’re not fit to do the fucking coffee run at a branch of Foxtons, let alone be anywhere near fucking politics, you twat and three quarters!

Paul Ovenden, a senior aide to Keir Starmer, has resigned after offensive, misogynistic sexual texts emerged relating to MP Diane Abbott. While apologising, Mr Ovenden added that ‘it is chilling that a private conversation from nearly a decade ago can do this sort of damage’.

I’ll tell you what’s fucking chilling, it’s that the Labour Party is riddled with racist, sexist cuntery like this and this would have festered unchecked if you’d not been found out! I mean, who the fuck are you and what sort of ‘advice’ has a horrible little arsewipe like you been feeding into the ample space between Starmer’s ears all this time? Oh the irony of it being the ‘Labour’ party. Have you ever done a day’s work in your life that wasn’t scheming with your little behind-the-scene cliques to fuck up any prospect of a left-wing government? Good honest graft that, now fuck right off!

Finally, it seems that many thousands of flag-bearing members of the public attended a march in central London organised by far-right agitator Tommy Robinson. Many commentators have claimed they did so because they felt they were ‘not being listened to’.

There’s a fucking reason no one listens to you cunts, and that’s because you’ve got fuck all coherent to say! You’re the dragging knuckles on the hands of humanity, spouting your thick shitkicker opinions pulled out of your arses, egged on by the world’s worst grifters! It’s a fucking good idea not to listen, because what you’re saying is: ‘Let’s kick out the immigrants who keep the country running while we pointless racist parasites stew in self-pity.’ Excuse me if I don’t write that down on a Post-it note in case I fucking forget it!