Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

It’s time to finally get on top of your finances, so marry Rishi Sunak’s wife. It sounds tricky, but you’ll work something out.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

Heavy is the head that wears the crown. Especially if your job is wearing the Burger King mascot suit.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

You’ve got to be firm about not letting others take advantage of you. If your girlfriend asks to pinch a chip tell her to fuck off and rot in Hell, the thieving cow.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

Rail prices are going up so much that soon you’ll have to stop taking the Monday morning rush hour train from Manchester Piccadilly to London Euston just for fun.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

Your head and your heart want different things. Your head wants a Chicken Feast but your heart wants a Mighty Meaty. And they’re never going to agree on whether Dough Balls are shit.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

Papa’s got a brand new bag, sang James Brown. Big fucking deal. Your dad just bought a new holdall from Argos and he’s not written a groundbreaking funk classic about it.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

Fellow Librans include Catherine Zeta Jones, Lena Headey and Will Smith. As such you must take some of the blame for After Earth. Publicly insert the DVD into your rectum while shouting ‘I’m sorry’. 

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

When Bob Dylan was knock-knock-knocking on heaven’s door, did he ever stop to think that God might be on the bog?

Sagittarius, November 23rd–December 21st

Your husband knows you’re having an affair but thinks it’s with the fit guy from work, not the one who looks like Ian Beale. It’s nice to know he believes in you.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re going to get. Unless you look on the box, you thick bastard.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

Perfection is the enemy of progress, you tell your partner. In other words you rinsed the bath but there’s still a load of pubic hairs in there.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

This week the horoscopes are being done by the work experience guy. He’s bloody useless, so Pisces will be a wanking Autobot in the lunar of Dairylea.

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on... Liz bloody Truss and that coffin dodger the Pope

WAKING in a bathing costume in a giant vat at a whiskey distillery, I vaguely recall a late-night urge to emulate the feats of England’s Commonwealth divers with my counterpart the Archbishop of Dublin, whom I was meeting in an ecumenical capacity. 

He is still asleep, mouth half-open, imbibing whisky in a markedly piscine manner. I, however, must repair to church and preside over matins. 

That done, I peruse a free copy of the Daily Express, in which I read that candidate for prime minister Liz Truss said: ‘The fact is there are too many people in this country who are ashamed of our history, who talk our country down, who say the best days are behind us. They are completely wrong.’

Christ’s wet wanksock, you’ve talked some elephant’s bollocks but this is the topper! How the fuck can the same people who are ashamed of our history simultaneously think our best days are behind us? Does your fucking brain run any sort of check on your words as they come tumbling like inept acrobats out of your fatuous fucking mouth? You’d be less of a fucking liability if you bought a Black & Decker drill and decided to have a pop at fucking brain surgery! Thick as fucking fossilised baboon shit!

Muse have re-entered the fray with a new album, Will Of The People. Speaking to the Guardian, frontman Matt Bellamy described his politics as ‘meta-centrist’, drawing on all political traditions.

‘Meta-centrist?’ Mega-wanker more fucking like! Anyone heard this new fucking album? Histrionic, high-register, sub-sub-sub-Radiohead bollocks getting a ninth fucking outing! About as artistically valid as a driverless muckspreader running amok in a town centre, showering mechanically generated shit in all fucking directions. With a worryingly large section of British youth gratefully accepting it with open fucking mouths! Muse? Cunts, more like!

The new film Batgirl has been cancelled by Warner Brothers, despite being well into the post-production stage.

As I said to my congregation when this news broke, the church brings you the Good News, and this is the best fucking news all week! Grown fucking adults – albeit ones who read comics and are still virgins – would have paid money to gawp at this bilge like cattle staring at a fucking fire engine! They shouldn’t just have binned this one. They should have binned the whole rectum-dwelling, self-important, pseudo-Gothic franchise of any fucking superhero film with ‘bat’ in the title! 

Finally, it seems that Pope Francis, who has suffered health issues in recent years and is finding international engagements increasingly stressful physically, is reported to be contemplating retirement.

Jesus on a cuntstick, what’s up with you left footers? Why are you putting this poor fucker through the mill? He’s fucking 85! He’s no more fit to be doing a Papal work schedule than he is to be fired out of a fucking cannon! Give the fucker one last job – I dunno, consecrating Vatican wine to tide you over till the next bloke – then let him be. Seriously, you won’t catch me putting in a shift when I’m that age! I’m counting the fucking days till I retire! Then it’s fuck you and your carriage clock and if you need me, I’ll be at fucking Spoons any time from 9am onwards!