Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

There’s a party in your pants and everyone is yet to RSVP – apart from an old colleague of yours from way back when, who politely declined.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

Why don’t bollocks do that Newton’s Cradle thing?

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

Those sea monkeys you got for Christmas back in 1994 are still alive. And they’re out for revenge.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

Job postings all think they want a ‘rock and roll’ salesperson until the new hire smashes a piss-filled bottle of Jack Daniels at the reception desk before writing ‘Death’ on their chest with a broken stapler.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

Your ‘guess how many sweets are in the jar’ competition had a minor hiccup, so now it’s ‘guess how much broken glass is in the sweets’ and proving just as popular.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

You always get a little kick out of the fact your targeted ads get the wrong town. Like you give a fuck that Stafford residents born between 1955 – 1989 are getting great life insurance deals when you live in Stoke-on-Trent.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

Not so quick to take their Jubilee bunting down, are they?

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

If a YouTuber doesn’t film their random act of kindness does it even happen? No, it literally doesn’t.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

Andrex have released a definite statement on which way round the toilet roll should go: ‘It doesn’t matter because ultimately, it’s going up your arse’.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

Now available: Captain Tom’s Vaping for Victory carts. Choose from liver and onion or hearty fish pie.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

You’re a social smoker, which is to say you nick proper smokers’ fags and they hate you.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

Do the birds at the zoo know they’re only in there to make up the numbers? Nobody goes to the zoo to see birds.

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on... Prince pissing Charles

WAKING in an alley behind a kebab shop, robes covered in vomited meat, head pounding like Dutch gabba techno, I make a note not to join a sherry soiree with Aled Jones on an empty stomach. 

I dust myself down, return to my chambers and peruse the latest periodicals. Therein I read that Prince Charles has vowed not to accept further cash donations for his charities following revelations that he has received donations of millions in suitcases and plastic bags.

Is that fucking right? And you won’t be receiving donations from a bloke in a mac standing in the shadows of a multi-storey car park either? Christ on a bacon barm, the shit you parasitic pricks pull! The ackers you rake in on dubious pretences! Even King John would have scratched his chin doubtfully at what you twats get up to! I used to think you were just some sorry, ugly little sod with a hard-on for old buildings who should have been quietly sectioned years ago for having conversations with potted plants but it turns out you’re a bung-taking 80s football managing dickhead!

Nadine Dorries has been the butt of a certain amount of ridicule for confusing Rugby League and Rugby Union in remarks about the England team’s 2003 World Cup triumph.

Haha, you Pinot Grigiot-addled featherhead, too right! It’s as good as the time Sir Billy Moore led England to victory against East Germany in the 1968 World FA Cup Final, with Sir Geoffrey Boycott scoring a two goal hat-trick! Look, any cunt can make a cock-up like that but it so happens the cunt who made this one is Minister for Culture and fucking Sport! It’s like me up there in the pulpit going on about the gospels according to Matthew, Martin, Lee and Jocasta! You are, without doubt, the thickest, nastiest, most risible, tipsiest, inept piece of work ever to land a fucking ministerial job and proof that, though I don’t broadcast it when I’m on duty, there is no fucking God!

One of my clerics took me aside during evensong to inform me that Novak Djokovic has made steady progress in the first week of Wimbledon.

Yeah? Well, don’t anyone forget what a death-dealing, anti-vaxx fucking leper you are! A walking, bullshit-spouting fucking disease vector! The plague’s on the rise again, thanks to arseholes like you! You shouldn’t be at Wimbledon. You shouldn’t be within five miles within any other human being. You should be dropped on a desert island with Right Said Fred, Ian Brown, Piers Corbyn and Van Morrison, forced to eat the corpse of the first one of you to fucking croak!

Finally, it seems that Boris Johnson considers the matter of Chris Pincher, the deputy chief whip caught drunkenly groping two men at a function, to be ‘settled’.

Saint Peter fucking a donkey, what the fuck does it take for anyone in this government of raving sex pests to face any consequences for anything? What would you actually get fired for? Being caught wanking on the roof of a moving car? Slapping the Duchess of Cambridge on the arse during a Royal funeral? Stealing a kidney from David Attenborough after spiking his fucking drink? The world’s worst cunts of all time, the fucking lot of you!