Your astrological week ahead for April 6th, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

You know a shuttle bus is smaller than a regular bus and has a limited range of movement, just going boringly back and forth? Well, this is a shuttle cock.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

We are all in the gutter, but some of us are upskirting the stars.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

Side hustle: Turn your flat into a fully functioning branch of Costa Coffee, ideally on a station concourse.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

It’s great that the younger generation are rediscovering the joy of big boobs. Now you’ve got something to talk about with them, at bus stops.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

You hate the taste of mint humbugs, but you eat them because they look like baby tapirs. And those fuckers should know their place.

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

There are increasingly few D-Day veterans left. We actually lost most of them in one go.

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

Fingers crossed the pub quiz has a round where you have to identify types of bean from a picture, because that’s what you’ve been boning up instead of doing that project for your boss.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

Google has just called you racist for trying to find out where Pingu is ‘from from’.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

This week, you’ll be disappointed when you take off your glasses and it turns out you weren’t secretly beautiful all along.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

“Yeah? Well, your dad’s vape is Pulled Pork flavour.”

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

Getting CCed in someone else’s email bollocking is the adult equivalent of when you visited your friend’s house and their parents properly told them off.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

“Okay, school, now this is very serious. John F Kennedy was assassinated on November 22nd, 1963, and I’m going to keep everyone in detention until we find out who did it.”

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on... Richard Dawkins, 'cultural Christian' or smug rodent tit?

WAKING up with a hangover roughly the size of the Amazon basin, I look back on the past two days. The furore began when CCTV emerged of me masturbating furiously in front of a statue of the Virgin Mary. I will admit that looked bad.

Summoned before a panel of C of E dignitaries, I was hard pressed to mount a defence. However, I argued as follows. 

Firstly, one of the distinguishing features of the Protestant faith, not steeped in dogma like Catholicism, is our progressive attitude towards onanism. Far from discouraging it as sinful, we regard it as a healthy activity. How strange that in our society, we tolerate public drinking, with all its attendant health risks, but not public masturbating? 

I also observed that while the pious express their adoration for the Holy Mother, none of them have manifested as sincere a tribute to her as I did. Surely Joseph himself, a carpenter in rude health who did not violate the virginity of his spouse, must have resorted to my own form of worship? Is he to be condemned too? 

The panel agreed and I was exonerated unanimously. And so I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein I read that Richard Dawkins, author of such tomes as The God Delusion, has declared himself a ‘cultural Christian’ and decried Islam as a bad faith.

You fucking know what? I had your card marked from the get-go, you cuntfaced little tit. I’m an atheist on the quiet, you’re an atheist on the loud, but whereas I’m in it from knocking at Heaven’s door for years and not getting a reply, you’re in it for a nice ride on the anti-Muslim bandwagon. Just scurry back up your hole of irrelevance, you smug fucking rodent. I’m half tempted to take up believing in God just to fuck you off, you awful fuck!

The children’s author JK Rowling has been in the news this week, having deliberately misgendered a number of trans activists and bracketed them with sex offenders. She has been accused of hate crimes and has defied the police to arrest her.

I fucking don’t get you at all, Joanne. You’re rich as fuck and you’re up there with Anne Frank and the fucking Bible in terms of book sales. You could do whatever you want every single day of your life and instead you waste it obsessing like a fucking loon over the genitals of strangers. You’ve gone full Linehan! You’re the plucky underdog against the transgender elite that only exists in your addled fucking mind! Look at your supporters. Nigel Farage, Donald Trump, Vladimir Putin! That’s a dinner party you’re fucking welcome to!

Lara Croft has been voted the ‘most iconic character ever’ by the Bafta Games Awards.

Well what a fucking surprise! Wish I’d had the idea of attaching two oranges to a stick and stretching a fucking t-shirt over it, I could have been quids in! JK Rowling in! Seriously, though, any chance we could make a giant fucking cannon, shove the word ‘iconic’ in, and fire it in the general direction of Uranus? What does it even mean? Except for ‘I’m a lazy hack’? For once I’m with the church on this one: ‘iconic’ is for 3rd century martyrs who were eaten alive by lions, not fucking cartoon characters with cyber-tits.

Finally, it seems that Liz Truss remains in the spotlight, appearing at the launch of a group going by the name of Popular Conservatism, or PopCon for short.

Hahaha! You, Liz? Popular? You’re about as popular as Gary fucking Glitter with a comeback single titled There’s No One Quite Like Harold Shipman! Why in the name of all that is fucking holy haven’t you dug an eight-foot-deep pit, thrown yourself into it and instructed everyone to fill it in? With the possible exception of Hitler, no politician has inflicted more damage on this country so quickly in the last 100 years! Fuck, absolutely and with maximum celerity, to the far reaches of off!