Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

The Royal carriage for the Coronation will have air-con, electric windows and an animatronic Princess Diana to make sure people turn up.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

You are stubborn and determined like your star sign the bull. Unfortunately, like most cattle you produce up to 500 litres of methane a day. That’s why you don’t get invited to parties.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

When life gives you lemons, make lemon batteries and use them to power a digital watch. If you’ve already got an Apple watch, you won’t look much more of a twat with a lemon taped to your wrist.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

Put your hands inside two Pringles tubes to find out what it’s like being Abu Hamza. This works best if you are extremely bored.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

A dog is a man’s best friend, but yours really shouldn’t have told everyone you shagged a Latvian prostitute on your stag do in his best man’s speech.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

Stormtroopers are criticised for their poor marksmanship, but you’d be shitting yourself going into battle in a white uniform with that emo twat Kylo Ren in charge.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

Some people share a star sign with Einstein, Franklin D Roosevelt or George Eliot. You share one with Jon Brower Minnoch, the world’s fattest man. Sums it up really, doesn’t it? He’s dead now, by the way. From fatness.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

Money won’t solve your problems, but NFTs will. Buy a picture of a monkey wearing a cowboy hat for £1,900, you fucking mug.

Sagittarius, November 23rd–December 21st

You’ve got a secret admirer! He’s a buff guy with his own business and his name is Max, Max Hardcore. You’re going to be so happy together.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

Easter is over so you can ignore Jesus until Christmas. Or until your diet of high-fat processed foods results in unbearably agonising constipation and you need to pray to him for mercy.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

Pick your battles carefully. Definitely go for something relatively safe like asking your boss for a pay rise rather than the bloody stalemate of Stalingrad.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

Your ruling planet is Mongo. An unprecedented solar eclipse is no cause for alarm. Romance is associated with the words ‘Vulcan, King of the Hawk Men’.

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on... the Dalai Lama? Dalai Paedo, more likely

WAKING up slumped over the top of the railings at Buckingham Palace, I blearily recall visiting King Charles to let him know I would not be attending his coronation as I was working the next morning and fancied having Saturday off.

‘You’re the Archbishop of Canterbury, you have to be there,’ spluttered Charles. ‘Attendance isn’t mandatory, is it?’ I said. ‘Your daughter-in-law’s not coming, is she?’

‘That’s different,’ he replied. ‘Look here, is there any way to change your mind?’ Upon which he instructed a footman to fetch up a case of vintage Chateauneuf du Pape from the cellars. After six bottles, I acquiesced to the Charles’ drunken, desperate, grovelling request out of pity. 

It being dead of night, and Charles having fallen asleep in his own piss, I let myself out of the Palace, making for the railings and successfully shinning up them, at which point I must have dozed off. 

Winched to safety next morning by a fire crew, I strode back to my chambers to peruse the periodicals. The Spectator magazine has published a cover story about the ‘new elites’, depicting Just Stop Oil protestors and the like in aristocratic garb.

Castrate me then serve me a dish of bollocks on toast, if Victorian fucking London had had as much gaslighting as this article, it’d have been visible from fucking space! Our new overlords aren’t the people with all the fucking power, money and media ownership but Earl Crusty of Smellington and his best fucking mate the Duke of Dogstring! Do you people actually believe this product of an incontinent horse’s arse? Because if you do, I suggest you visit a place you may not have been to lately. It’s called ‘the real world’, you far-right fucks! 

Meanwhile, the journalist Petronella Wyatt has argued that if golliwogs are banned, then it will be teddy bears next, as they are named after Teddy Roosevelt, deemed by some to be insufficiently left-wing. Surely it won’t be long, she reasons, before the police are called to confiscate our teddy bears.

Jesus H Cock, this fucking golliwogs business has sent some of you people round the fucking bend, hasn’t it? Teddy bears? Sure, and after that they’ll be seizing our rubber ducks, because ‘duck’ rhymes with ‘fuck’ and it breaks the obscenity laws! Tell you what, since nothing is offensive or racist except in the minds of the do-gooders, I’ll turn up at the coronation with a huge great fucking swastika on my mitre. See how that goes down with the fucking Daily Telegraph, eh?

The Dalai Lama has been in hot water this week, after footage emerged of him inviting a boy to ‘suck my tongue’. 

Fuuucccking hell! I mean I know he’s the opposition and all that, but mate, snogging a fucking small boy? Fucking gross. As someone who’s been doing this shit for years, the first rule of spiritual leadership is don’t ask any of them – especially the kids – to suck any part of your fucking body. Your tongue, your finger, your cock, whatever, capiche? You’re the Dalai fucking Lama, not a 1970s Top Of The Pops presenter.

Finally, there has been upset at an incident in last weekend’s fixture between Liverpool FC and Arsenal FC in which the linesman, one Constantine Hatzidakis, appeared to elbow Liverpool player Andy Robertson in the face.

Hahaha, is this the best fucking thing that’s happened anywhere this year, or what? And it couldn’t have happened to a more deserving, shithousing little twat than Andy Robertson! I’m fucking all for it! Match officials dishing some out to whiny footballers, preferably when they’re least expecting it! Elbows, right-handers, nuttings, knees to the bollocks – smashing. And when they’re done with the players they can leap over the hoardings and have a go at the fucking fans! These are the fucking scenes we want to see, eh?