Egad! It's awful August, as far as I can tell. Eight knots in the handkerchief! Damning proof, one might almost say! Thus, I must rise to the occasion and address you all on matters of mighty import. Prognostications, by name! Vile and bitter, by nature! Pin back your bovine lug-holes and attend to me! For I am Asperitus, haruspex of harangue!
We left you last time, ready to write the inaugural chapter of Beef on a Bike, the current tale of your wretched and futile existence. On the off-chance that things may yet get worse for you, we will continue in that vein. As grim Saturn grapples with Uranus, idiot god, you eschew friendship and the lofty aims that drove you to the dizzy heights and dismal failure of Bullish Manse. Instead, you set out on your bike, sheltered by a coloured umbrella and giving several vigorous dings on your bell. Dark-eyed observers, wealthy and insightful, study your progress as the great Sol Invicti interferes with the decorum of jolly Jupiter. It's the open road with wheels and pedals two that is your calling, as marauding Mars forces his improper attentions upon cranky Chiron. However, as the great Sol Invicti enjoys evil congress with gloomy Saturn whilst making unseemly gestures in the direction of narcotic Neptune, you're struck by adverse weather conditions and find you must seek shelter from the howling winds and driving rain.
By all the gods alive and dead, what's this? Aargh! It's a Full Moon in idiot Aquarius, bathing a benighted earth in a nastily necrotic glare as jolly Jupiter wreaks havoc with the rudest bit of marauding Mars. You espy a hostelry and pull your bike into the shelter there provided. Once within, you find yourself amongst a party of Finnish scientists, themselves on a cycling tour. It seems this expedition is on a mission to explore sexual customs and behaviour as practiced in non-Finnish saunas and instanter invite you to participate by means of a temporary sauna, erected out the back.
As it's been a long time between drinks (what with all the recent travail and tragedy), you're into the erection in less time than it takes to do a running dismount. By my sainted aunt! A deal of grunting, bilingual and polyglot, follows as you learn enough of Finnish custom and culture to widen your horizons in a very real and visceral manner. So much for the idea that TO THE FINLAND STATION was a political work! And, after the chimes of midnight have rung again and again, you're taught the meaning hidden in the text of the KALEVALA that demonstrates conclusively this Finnish national saga surpasses the KARMA SUTRA as a manual of erotic delight and gives a whole new meaning to the term 'epic'.
All this occurs as ghastly planets cavort in nasty aspect, though it must be said cranky Chiron is foremost among them, producing contortions, vocalization and spasms in the Finnish finish that are unprecedented in your experience. In fact, as vamping Venus gropes jolly Jupiter, you're inducted into a runic sex rite of such ecstatic power that it vulcanizes your spare tyre and leaves you gasping for your puncture repair kit! Eek! My sainted aunt knew nothing about such things as these! Suffice it to say that as the great Sol Invicti rolls into vexatious Virgo, bringing a New Moon in that loathsome sign, you're sex mad and besotted by this bevy of foreign lovers. You set yourself to break ties with your native soil and seek a new home in the land of the fens.
Great Caesar's ghost! What's the Finnish for 'Beef on a Bike'? Will your two wheels go with you as you saunter in the saunas and navigate the bogs in the land of the midnight sun, all the time watching lapdancing Laplanders, eating sausage and making hand signals in Suomi? Click here next time for Beef on Bike, a close finish! Ave!