Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

Probably keep quiet about that disposable barbecue you didn’t put out properly during a picnic in Hawaii last week.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

In Norfolk, MILF has a comma in it.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

If Bibby Stockholm is meant to deter asylum seekers why does it sound like a Swedish cartoon bear? Call it The Floating Castle of Death. Which, as it turns out, it is.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

Traditionally the bride’s father gives her away. But maybe it would be more appropriate that her teenage boyfriend Steve passes her on to the next bloke.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

These fast food film tie-ins are getting ridiculous. The Oppenheimer double mushroom burger is nothing special. And it makes your fingernails fall out.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

What’s so great about virgins anyway? They’re usually shit at blowjobs.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

A candlelit dinner sounds romantic until you can’t read the sodding menu and end up ordering two plates of green beans for your main.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 21nd

‘Young, black, and famous, with money hangin’ out the anus,’ sings fellow Scorpio Puff Daddy. Not really someone you want buying you an ice cream.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

‘This is between you, me and the bedpost,’ people say. Believing a bed is listening to your conversations is dangerously delusional. Do the right thing and have them sectioned immediately.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

Guys. Feel better about being asked to go for a prostate exam by only doing it after a third date with your GP.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

Young people today don’t know they’re born. In the old days you had to ring 50 people from a phone box to organise a criminal mob to rob a sports shop, and all you got away with was some Peter Shilton gloves with rubber bits that fell off.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

‘I’m so 3008, you’re so 2000 and late,’ goes the Black Eyed Peas song. This may sound a little harsh, but if someone invents time travel it’s not going to be fucking Fergie.

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on… an army of f**king robot Murdochs

WAKING up in my chambers, which confuses me momentarily, I recall the momentous events of yesterday. I was to deliver the eulogy of the former Bishop of Tyne & Wear, a much beloved Christian gentlemen whose passing was mourned by all. 

I stood solemnly at the lectern. ‘Dearest brothers and sisters in Christ,’ I began, ‘We are here to celebrate the life of the eminent Bishop Wilkes. However, it would be remiss of me at this time not to address a more pressing matter. The railway company LNER and what they laughingly call their wifi service. It never fucking works. I don’t mean it’s unreliable or it cuts out frequently. It never. Fucking. Works. Full. Fucking Stop. Sort it the fuck out you useless bunch of cunts!’

Upon which I am carried shoulder-high down the aisle by the congregation, cheering and punching the air, the Bishop’s coffin knocked from its stand in the process. Satisfied that I have used my platform to right a wrong, I take breakfast and peruse a periodical. 

Therein I read that Conservative MP Lee Anderson has said asylum seekers who do not wish to be housed in barges should ‘fuck off to France’. Downing Street has endorsed his remarks.

Poke me in eye with a dead goat’s cock, we’re fucking being ruled by the National Front now, aren’t we? And the fucking cowards sitting in the front bench opposite are too fucking shit scared to say anything about it! You know what, Lee? I think most of us would love to fuck of to France, in small boats if necessary, rather than be governed by poxy, ignorant, gammon-brained, sadistic little fascist arseholes like you! Only we can’t because of fucking Brexit, can we?

As I write, Harry Kane seems on the verge of leaving Tottenham Hotspur and joining Bayern Munich, However, there are still some questions about his personal terms.

I’ll fucking personal term you, Kane, you longshanked, gormless, cheating twat! Are there any words more fucking depressing than ‘Kane (pen)’? We all know how you got that fucking penalty, by diving so blatantly you might as well be wearing a bathing costume, or leaping backwards into the face of a fucking centre back! You’ll be in for a fucking shock if you get to Germany and you get sent off after 20 minutes for the shit you’ve pulled with impunity for about a fucking decade in England!

Nadine Dorries has still yet to ascertain whether she has resigned as MP for mid-Bedfordshire, drawing criticism not just from constituents but also minister Robert Jenrick and Rishi Sunak.

Do you know there are fucking statues of horses whose brass fucking balls aren’t as big as yours, Dorries? How do you put up with it? The derision, the castigation, the mockery, every day of your wretched fucking life? When you die you should donate your brain to medical science so they can dissect it and see how a human being can function with zero capacity for fucking shame! If scum like Jenrick and that colossal prick Sunak are having a go, then you’re buried head first in one hell of a fucking cesspit!

Finally, it seems that News Corp has recorded a steep 75 per cent drop in profits but sees opportunities ahead in Artificial Intelligence.

Seriously? I thought fucking News Corp’s copy had been pumped out by some sort of auto-generative machinery for fucking decades, designed by the same fucking engineer responsible for the machine used to pump shit into our rivers and fucking oceans! Or is this some fucking plan to build an army of fucking robot Murdochs, to multiply the fucking misery inflicted on future generations, with the old cunt himself a head in a jar still fucking directing operations? Just die, you cunt! Die, die, fucking die!