Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

Two out of one people are conjoined twins.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

Even though you’re acknowledged as the UK’s leading Obama lookalike, you still can’t get over your imposter syndrome.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

No one can make you feel inferior without your consent. Except Beyoncé.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

A job that was destroyed by new technology? Fluffer. But you didn’t see them picketing movie studios.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

The amount of yolks it is good to have in an egg is a classic bell curve. One is OK. Two is great. Three is amazing. Four is worrying. Five is abhorrent.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

Why is it so much easier to remember the date 9/11 happened than it is to remember your mum’s birthday?

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

They should name viruses after celebrities like they do with insects. Imagine the pride of a Gen Z teen dying of bacillus oliviarodriguezis.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

Why do they still make cars with a blind spot? It hasn’t been cool for ages.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

You’ve come out to your friends and family as aromatic. And if they don’t believe you? Just smell.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

You’ve entered the Saudi Arabian fantasy football league this year. No budget restrictions, you can own eight teams concurrently and nobody gives a shit who wins.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

Terry Nutkins called. He didn’t have anything in particular to say to you.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

Would it kill Kinder to put something useful inside their eggs for once? A button battery, some vinegar, a blob of Blu Tack.

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on... those thieving twats at the British Museum

WAKING with something of a morning head, after a late evening with the Little Sisters Of The Poor who are renowned for their thirst, I learn that Sir Michael Parkinson has died. 

A great shame. He is remembered for his interviews with Muhammad Ali, David Niven, Jimmy Stewart and Dame Edith Evans among others, and for his consummate skill in drawing out their real selves.

However, it says something about us as an island people that we remember most the interview in which he was glowered at, bitten on the leg and then wrestled to the ground, losing a shoe in the incident.

I admit it was my first TV appearance in the capacity of Archbishop, and I may have taken too liberal advantage of the refreshments in the green room. It remains, however, the most watched moment in BBC history, of which I am justifiably proud.

With a sigh, I breakfast on kedgeree and peruse a periodical. Therein I read that the British Museum has seen items from its collection stolen, with a staff member subsequently dismissed for the theft.

Tease my tits with a tattoo gun, stolen, you say? Well, there’s a turn-up. Fuck’s sake, you’re the fucking British Museum! Every thing you’ve got is stolen, plundered, looted, and pillaged, starting with the Rosetta Stone and going on to the fucking Elgin Marbles! The contents of your storeroom are dodgier than Arthur Daley’s fucking lock-up! How you can sack anyone with a straight face for doing exactly what you did to have a fucking museum in the first place beats me!

Elon Musk, who had challenged Facebook founder Mark Zuckerberg to a cage fight, has apparently withdrawn from the proposed bout.

Just as well there’s fuck all of importance going on in the world right now so that there’s room to report the back and cocking forth of this story! State of the fucking world, eh? Famine, drought, a massive cost of living crisis, climate breakdown and in the midst of it all, this pair of twats sitting like goblins on billions of fucking dollars pulling faces, flinging their shit and beating their fucking chests like a pair of toddler baboons! I hope they have a fight and end up biting each others’ fucking balls off!

Education secretary Gillian Keegan,has been criticised for suggesting employers won’t ask pupils about their A-levels in a decade’s time.

I swear on Mary Magdelene’s clit that this fucking government is an exercise in seeing who can say the stupidest, most irresponsible thing for a fucking laugh to leave as big a mess as possible for the poor pricks who replace them. Brilliant, Keegan. Tell schoolkids who’ve been boning up, sweating cobs, busting fucking guts and wading through a pile of post-pandemic shit, mostly of your excreting, that exams don’t really matter a fuck as long as you’re an obedient, underpaid, worn-down cog in the fucking employment machine! I bet you don’t want kids getting too educated, do you, especially in subjects like recent British political history! Arseholes!

Finally, it seems that Britain is to suffer the effects of Storm Betty, with heavy rainfall in large parts of the country while in Canada towns are being evacuated as wildfires rage.

Am I gonna have to build a twatting ark, or what? You know, God, it’s a goat’s bollock of a job getting arses on pews these days. There’s more and more people sharing my long-held doubt that you actually fucking exist! You know what might help? Some sort of gesture, like instead of sitting there on your fat, omnipotent backside like a cunt while it pisses down pointlessly in fucking Coventry, knock the rainclouds over the Atlantic so it pisses down in Canada instead! I mean, you bang on in the Old Testament about what a shift you put in creating the world and how fucking grateful we should all be, you’d think you’d give a fuck about the malfunctioning weather system you installed! Take some responsibility for your shitty handiwork, you lazy fucking wanker!