Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

Everybody’s seen that picture of Albert Einstein sticking his tongue out. But beneath the clownish exterior was a very intelligent man.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

Have you drunk enough water today? Your recommended daily intake is 55 gallons.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

Those baseball jackets with the leather sleeves aren’t worn when playing baseball. What are they for, then? Watching it?

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

It’s time to pump Loch Ness full of high-strength weedkiller and see what comes floating up.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

Your horoscope-exclusive meal deal this week is a chicken and sweetcorn Sandwich, a sour cream protein bar and a bottle of Midori.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

“A snake? Ah fuck, you have to slide down those,” you say, facing an 18ft boa constrictor.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

Unfortunately ‘I think she can do better’ isn’t a good enough reason to object during a marriage ceremony.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

The cruellest trick the Northern 1970s Satan ever played was Corporation Pop.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

As if this middle-aged Love Island show’s going to work. As if middle-aged people give a shit who they’re married to.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

Durex called. Turns out they already have Bovril-flavoured lube in production.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

Monks are nightmare neighbours. Tolling bells, keeping bees, brewing lager, up all night illuminating manuscripts. But on the bright side, you can be as prejudiced as you like about fucking monks.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

Kids and grown ups love him so, the happy world of Dr No.

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on... the far-right likes of Susan twatting Hall

WAKING with a morning head and aware of a distinctively green, radioactive glow emanating from my skull, I reflect on last Sunday’s events at morning service. 

There has been a distinct increase in misbehaviour at church services – groups of loud, possibly cocaine-fuelled middle-aged men chatting throughout the service while others are trying to listen. Even congregants filming me with their iPads rather than being in the moment.

Frequent warnings have been to no avail. And so, as one particularly noisy boor rises in volume, I step down from the pulpit, stride over to him and layeth my forehead to his nose, adding ‘If you want to fucking chat, chat in the fucking vestibule, you gak-addled twat!’

He duly retreats and the service continues peacefully. That it has come to this, I sigh afterwards, as the pews are hosed clean of blood.

Perusing a periodical, I read that Susan Hall, prospective Conservative candidate for mayor of London, has on social media liked Islamophobic remarks about Sadiq Khan, subscribes to the theory that the 2020 US presidential election was stolen and endorses Enoch Powell.

Baste my gonads in chili oil, is there anyone left in the upper echelons of the Tory Party who isn’t a certifiable, far-right fucking fruit loop? From what fucking hedge of quasi-Nazi nonsense were you dragged backwards from? An awful tincture of twat like you shouldn’t be running for mayor of fucking Legoland, let alone London! Rivers of blood? Who gives a fuck about rivers of blood when we’ve got actual rivers of raw sewage to contend with? Take your sorry thick racist arse and throw yourself in one of them! This is London, not a market town in pissing Worcestershire!

The Daily Mirror this week ran a front page piece entitled Year Of The Shoplifter, urging the public to be on the lookout for anyone stealing baby formula so that they can be prosecuted and jailed.

This is what fucking passes for a left-wing paper in this country? Absolutely fuck off. And I think I’m safe in saying that those are the precise words, or their Aramaic equivalent, that Jesus fucking Christ would have used if he decided to pop back in right now. Here’s some moral guidance for you: if you see a desperate person shoplifting from some chain of stores raking in billions by foisting impossible prices customers during the worst cost of living crisis in years, don’t be a cunt. Repeat after me to the tune of Away In A Manger: Don’t. Be. A. Cunt. Be a good Samaritan and look the fucking other way. It’s this toxic spunkstain of a fucking government that needs prosecuting!

John Ryley, former boss of Sky News, has slammed the GB News advertising boycott, saying those who refuse to advertise on the channel are a threat to democracy.

Listen, John, you fatuous, pie-faced pot of fucking gone-off gibbon toss, ‘democracy’ doesn’t involve coercing the award of advertising revenue to a wretched excuse of a TV channel determined to foist stupid fucking conspiracy theories and John Cleese on us. In fact, the very fucking definition of democracy is the precise opposite! Do your shit, don’t expect me to pay for it! Anyway, the fucking reason corporations aren’t investing in GB News – not so much a news channel as a garden shed with an aerial sticking out of the roof – isn’t fear of the woke elite. They don’t invest because no cunt watches it, this being Britain not a nation of coast-to-coast halfwits like fucking America!

Finally, the government is reportedly planning to scrap the second leg of the HS2 railway line to Manchester, in a bid to curb costs.

Well, there’s a fucking surprise, eh? The government levelling up to its usual level of rock fucking bottom! If they’d actually been serious about this line, and not throwing the fucking North the same old rubber bone of unkept promises, they’d have started it in fucking Manchester! And, if it ran out of money before it reached London, oh well, never mind, there’s too many bastards down here anyway, maybe we need to spread out a bit. But no, the North is fucked once more and we’re back to having to cross the Pennines on trains that are basically a patched-up version of George Stephenson’s fucking Rocket!