Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

Why do live albums always include the venue? Nobody’s saying ‘The Killers live at Nassau Coliseum? Not interested mate. Live at the Royal Albert Hall? Count me the fuck in.’

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

Clowns are more afraid of you than you are of them.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

You’ve never seen Twin Peaks, but you have seen Emmerdale. You can’t imagine it’s too far off.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. A trip to B&Q really does have it all.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

God, after all they go through in All Quiet On The Western Front, you were really hoping the Germans would at least win the war.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

Life is full of highs and lows. In your case, high cholesterol and low libido.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

Remember, you’re in complete control of every element of your own destiny. Apart from how much tax you pay. That’s decided by Jeremy Hunt.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

Anyone who says ‘golf is a good walk spoiled’ wants to try stepping in dog shit.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

You see life through rosé tinted glasses by being constantly pissed on Zinfandel.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

Apparently a Prince tribute act is meant to do more than just come on stage and talk about how great Prince was. So that’s that 32-date national tour fucked.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

A friend claims a fancy restaurant near you serves a main course consisting of one single chip. You’re going to take it with a grain of salt.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

*record scratch* ‘I suppose you’re wondering how your record got scratched.’

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on... BBC bastard impartiality

WAKING in a Glasgow police cell, I realise that this particular occasion differs from the others as it is under the aegis of the King himself that I am incarcerated. 

His Majesty King Charles III, as Prince Charles styles himself these days, has always leant on my counsel and wished me to seek out young British acts to play at his Coronation festival which is currently short on ‘hot talent’.

To this end, I headed for noted musical venue Glasgow Barrowland for a ‘tribute to punk all-niter’, whatever that should mean. Amply fortified for the ordeal, I made my way to what I later learned is known as the ‘moshpit’, where I was jostled by unruly spectators, one of whom knocked off my mitre.

I responded by swinging my crosier at all and sundry, laying several low with head injuries. The constabulary intervened and we were deposited in the same cell where we all quickly became terrific friends, and my fellow lags now have VIP tickets alongside ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’ himself for the event.

Released and persuing the news, I find that BBC boss Tim Davie relented from his decision to suspend Gary Lineker following a tweet about government policy which breached impartiality guidelines.

St Peter’s dilated anal ring, you have impartiality guidelines? Well, that’d have been fucking news to Alan Sugar, Jeremy Clarkson and Gary fucking Lineker himself after he mouthed off about Corbyn with nary a peep from you cunts! I’ll tell you how fucking Nazi Germany started – political leaders behaving like fucking dictators and the media being too shit scared to do anything about it! Oh, and I’ll tell you how fucking Nazi Germany ended – in total defeat and unconditional surrender, which is what you fuckers did after your miscalculation that the public finds Suella Braverman more likeable than Gary Lineker! Turns out everyone, including Suella Braverman, I strongly fucking suspect, feels the exact opposite!

Jeremy Hunt announced his Spring budget this week. In it he focused on ‘the four Es – Enterprise, Employment, Education, Everywhere’.

Jeremy, you fatuous-faced streak of goat piss, how many Es did you drop to come up with that vacuous, clappy-happy bollocks? It was the usual Tory twattery – more tax on alcohol, for which may God have no mercy on your fucking soul you piece of fuck, further lashes of the whip for the galley slaves in public services and extra help for those with absolutely no fucking need of it! This isn’t gonna help with the ‘Jeremy Cunt’ Freudian slips, you know – if I were you I’d change my name to something more innocuous, like Jeremy Hwat!

U2 have released a new album, Songs Of Surrender, comprising 40 stripped-back, acoustic arrangements of songs from their back catalogue.

Holy fucking crap, I’ll tell you one thing, this pile of dead twigs of a fucking album proves that U2 are fucking nothing without all the ringing noise and gaseous, self-righteous, caterwauling bluster! Strip them back and you’re left with absolutely bollock-all! Talk about a fucking empty vessel – if U2 were a boat, you could ferry 50,000 migrants across the fucking channel in them!

Finally, Prince Edward, Earl of Wessex, has been awarded the title of Duke of Edinburgh previously owned by his father, Prince Phillip.

The Holy Spirit’s jism, Prince Edward! There’s a fucking blast from the past, eh? When did you actually last do anything remotely noteworthy? Oh yes, 1987! That fucking It’s A Royal Knockout travesty that very nearly saw the monarchy laughed out of existence! 1987! You’re the fucking Terence Trent D’Arby of fucking royals, aren’t you? The Andrew Ridgeley, still taking a fat annual wedge in return for bugger all! Still, Edinburgh’s a step up from Wessex, eh? I mean, at least it fucking exists!