Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

No, you will never be as happy as a mouse in clogs in a windmill in Amsterdam. Stop trying.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

Stressed with a colleague? Take a deep breath, head to the kitchen, brew yourself a cup of camomile tea and throw it over their fucking laptop.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

It’s not just Santa, you can tell kids that anything’s not real. I’ve just done it to mine about hedgehogs.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

If the campervan’s rocking, don’t come knocking. If the campervan’s still, grandad hasn’t taken his blue pill.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

Bog standard means as good as a toilet, and toilets are great. I wouldn’t shit in anything else.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

Taylor Swift has just announced a new tour date. Wednesday 20th December upstairs at The Red Lion pub in Braintree. Should be tickets on the door.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

I want a lady in the streets and a freak in the bed. Specifically that freak they keep in a pit that bites the head off a live chicken.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

You thought Nicholas Cage was an offhand, superior arsehole when you met him? You should hear what he says about you.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

“We have successfully touched down at Dublin airport. Quick, get your bags! Get your bags from the overhead lockers right now, before someone steals them!”

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

You and your mate Steve wrote a new UK constitution on a beer mat that says deporting to Rwanda is fine. It also says that breast reductions are illegal and you can get Stella on prescription.

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

I had a successful origami business, but it went under. Folded? No, you’re thinking of my scuba-diving business.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

New craze for Gen Z: watching people watching people play videogames. ‘Being at one further remove is dope as hell,’ say teenage dickheads.

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on... Roger wankshaft Waters

WAKING at the crack of dawn to splashing and a tangy scent, I open my eyes to see I am lying in a grubby tent being urinated upon by Suella Braverman. 

Shrieking and waving my hands, I topple her and launch myself out of the confines of canvas to lie, discomfited and steaming, on the hard paving stones outside.

But as I attempt to gather myself the sensation is renewed, I look up and there is the former home secretary squatting astride my supine form once again urinating copiously. It seems, at that moment, hard to ascertain whether it was better to have Ms Braverman pissing inside the tent or out, both being equally repugnant.

Waking again, I realise that the former was a nightmare but the urine was real and more likely my own. I shower, take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical where I learn that Nigel Farage is a contestant in the latest series of I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here.

Slice my scrotum thinly, what the fuck has happened to this fucking show? Why not just re-christen it I’m A Cunt, Get Me In Here? First Hancock then this fucking grifter? Who’s next, Kim Jong-Un, Viktor Orban and Tommy fucking Robinson? What used to be a innocuous show about eating kangaroo’s knackers has turned into a pension scheme for washed-up quasi-fascists! Ant and fucking Dec, figure out which one of you is which and take it in turns to kick yourselves up the arse with a long fucking run-up, you docile pair of twats!

Former Pink Floyd frontman Roger Waters has made headlines again, claiming that the Hamas massacre of 1,400 Israelis was ‘thrown out of all proportion’.

Oh, for fucking fuck’s sake, are you some sort of fucking plant? Every time a progressive cause tries to get some traction, up you fucking pop with your fatuous, conspiracist bullshit to give us all a bad name! You talk so much out of your arse you’re muffled when you sit down! ‘Out of all proportion’? What the fuck do you know? What inside information do you have? None, you cunt! Making too many turgid, woefully self-important concept albums about walls and trees and cocking hitch-hiking has addled your brain! Shut the fuck up and keep your rancid thoughts to yourself, you shades-wearing tower of toss!

Labour MPs faced a vote on whether to back a ceasefire in Gaza this week. Many were said to have ‘struggled with their consciences’ before abstaining from the motion.

I bet that was a quick and fucking easy victory! Like their consciences put up any sort of a fucking fight! Like Mike Tyson in the ring with Jeanette Krankie, more like! Hmm, let me see now, what’s more important to me: kids dying every ten minutes, killed by bombs manufactured and exported from this country, or my cosy little safe seat and prospects of a junior ministerial post and generous expense account? No fucking contest! Sorry, Gazan kids, we’re living in the real world!

Finally, Everton FC have been docked ten points, the heaviest ever punishment handed to a team, for breaching financial fair play rules. This leaves the club second from bottom in the league.

Well, it couldn’t happen to a shittier, more spacewasting fucking team! I mean, what is the fucking point of Everton? You’ve been stinking up the lower reaches of the fucking Premier League for three decades now, refusing to go down like an unflushable turd, so maybe this judgement is the final poke of the bogbrush that’ll send you spiralling down to the sewers where you belong! Meanwhile Manchester City get off scott free because the 115 charges against them are so lengthy it’ll take until 2070 before a guilty verdict relegates the pricks to the Hackney Marshes Sunday Jumpers For Fucking Goalposts League!