What ho, cloddish types! You'll start the month by discussing money, worrying about money, dealing with elderly or critical fiscal authorities and finding that plans will come to nought, obfuscated as they are by delays, dilemmas and indecision. This is all due to the obscene congress of mischievous Mercury and grim Saturn. As this latter then moves forward in anal Virgo, you purchase a collection of toy soldiers and re-enact famous battles, hire a stenographer to take down everything you say, grow hyacinths in intricate patterns around the garden or have an affair with a travelling tailor from Thessaly.
As the ghastly New Moon then comes in your idiot sign, you wear costume dress and talk in an affected manner, believing yourself to be Cassandra or Andromeda or Oedipus or Ajax or some other Greek that fell upon misfortune. As jolly Jupiter moves into perverse reverse, you become delusional, believing you live in the ancient world and, as marauding Mars clatters into lackwit Leo, you decorate your home in a Grecian manner, throwing tantrums when you can't get the cornices right or when your visitors confuse the Doric with the Ionic. Nasty groping amongst ghastly planets sees you parade in classic dress, reciting lines from the dramas of Euripides and lecturing on the virtues of democracy.
In the grip of this eccentric behaviour, you lose your job for non-attendance and your friends, who think you're a loony. But come the Full Moon in evil Scorpio, you're consumed in a passionate affair with the tailor from Thessaly while romping in and out of classical costumery. As the great Sol Invicti rolls drunkenly into addlepate Gemini, you gather the last of your funds. Then, as mischievous Mercury moves into perverse reverse and clashes with idiot Uranus, you build replicas of the Parthenon, the temple of Artemis and the Four Horsemen of the Acropolis, claiming Athenian heritage and declaring war on Sparta. You spend your days gibbering insanely about harrying Hoplites and other such Grecian activities.
Sadly, there we must leave you but, no doubt, we will find you in similar straits or worse on my return. Farewell, O bovine twits!
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