Greetings, my noisome noxious ninnies! It's manic March! These are the vile and bitter prognostications that pertain thereto. Read them and tremble all the way down to your nasty little hoofs and bright red socks!
We left you last time, famous, friendless and ensconced in castle Ram with a moat full of sharks and a drawbridge raised, as you sulked while the world raged without, hurling rocks, curses and nasty comments about your figure and ghastly red hair! This fury was due to the runaway success of your 'hit and tell' book, assassinating the characters of all those you've met or known. Needless to say, the assassinated characters were seeking redress in a fashion with which you're entirely familiar! Mindless violence!
So what will happen this time? Well, I'll tell you! Proceedings commence in appalling fashion as mischievous Mercury moves into perverse reverse in tear-stained Pisces, clashing with dark Pluto, lord of the underworld. By my sainted aunt, little twerps! You wander about (Mars in Gemini), talking to yourself (the busy messenger in your solar twelfth house) till, becoming inattentive, you fall downstairs, hitting your head and rendering yourself unconscious (for all the difference that may make to normal mental operations). Jolly Jupiter clashes with narcotic Neptune and you (unconscious) imagine yourself a powerful monarch of ancient times, living in exile due to the dastardly deeds of scheming baronial persons that deposed you, due to your popularity with the common folk.
Egad, my little salts of the earth! How wonderful you are in your own minds! Venus returns to Aquarius, sign of the idiot god, and you sit in a circle of imaginary friends (the only kind you know). Marauding Mars clashes with Uranus, the idiot god, again as you order your imaginary friends to form a suicide squad and slay the imaginary baronial types that deposed you. As your imaginary friends refuse (due to their natural cowardice as they generally require you to save them in your fantasies), you try to strike them but fall down again, slipping into a state of mystical unconsciousness.
The Full Moon brings a Lunar Eclipse in aggravating Virgo and you create an imaginary doctor (vamping Venus conjunct cranky Chiron) to treat the very real illness you have created by means of the imaginary conditions under which you live, due to a very real bump on the noggin. Hmm! Life is puzzling at the best of times but you seem to have taken things to another realm, my tiny drivelling lunatics! The Great Sol Invicti, mischievous Mercury and dark Pluto, lord of the underworld, disport themselves in obscene congress. You speak a foreign tongue, railing from your sickbed against imaginary enemies that, strangely, are real enough beyond the walls of the castle but yet are only the delusions of your ailing mind.
The great Sol Invicti crashes into your own odious sign, inflicting another Equinox upon an over-burdened world and you are the king in exile, lamenting the injustice of your fall. But you're sick, my tiny addlepates! On the border of disastrous decline! Mischievous Mercury moves forward but will you return from the evil hinterland wherein you now dwell? The New Moon comes in your odious sign, bringing a Solar Eclipse thereto and you rise from your bed of woe, swaying unsteadily but ready nonetheless to wage war against the unsympathetic world of imaginary enemies whilst surrounded by giggling sycophantic imaginary friends. And all the time you lie at the foot of the stairs in castle Ram, unconscious from a trip you're going to wish you'd never taken! Eek!
Egad! Gadzooks! And other quaint expressions to indicate surprise and alarm! What will happen to you now? Click here next time and see! In the meantime, ave atque vale, little ovine imbeciles!