Odds bodkins, irritating types in smelly knickers! Last time we left, you fancied yourself as a storm god, flailing about with a chicken bone and mouthing gibberish like a loon whilst watching a world in the savage and furious grip of a dire meteorological deluge!
What will happen this time? Well, wittering ovines! We must consult the vile and bitter prognostications for manic March and so discover! Grim Saturn and narcotic Neptune cavort in nasty congress and you experience a morbid yet powerful sense of loneliness now you know you are a storm god and an elite member of the insane pantheon that mismanages this benighted universe. As the Full Moon in anal Virgo scours this already ravaged planet with the excoriating indignity of a Lunar Eclipse, you determine in your newfound godhood to eschew the mundane tasks and requirements of ordinary human living, though from your dress, demeanour and body odour, there will be little appreciable difference between this and your usual condition.
The great Sol Invicti gropes Uranus, the idiot god, and you twitch and tremble in a saltatory and unnerving manner for no other reason than it makes your chicken bone look more impressive if you wave it about. This phenomenon is actually based upon an ancient theory in physics devised by an Aries from Thrace. Or was that a Thracian from Ayr? I can't remember. Anyway, as a hapless human populace begins recovering from the shock of recent tempests, they look to you, little storm god, as both destroyer and saviour.
As Mercury moves forward in execrable Aquarius, they pronounce you the 'Oxymoron' which has the comforting ring of a childhood nickname used by your parents, especially if you leave off the first two syllables. After that, people follow you about in the hope you'll create another storm so they can film it on their cell phone and sell the resultant images for a fortune. As marauding Mars cranks up the heat in the nether regions of cranky Chiron, you become a cult figure. Hmm!
As vamping Venus slithers with blatant concupiscence into cloth-eared Taurus, your followers offer you money or sex in the hope of inducing you to cause a further hurricane, though most of them do incline to the former due to your malodorous inattention with personal hygiene. Mischievous Mercury snivels into tear-stained Pisces and you burble, bleat and babble in the gibberish that is now such a familiar part of your expression that an outside observer might be forgiven for believing it's the best you can do.
But, gadzooks, what's this? By my sainted aunt, it's a nasty New Moon in the tragic sign of the Fishes, one that brings a Solar Eclipse to your solar twelfth house which is, as we all know, a ghastly realm of heartache and sorrow wherein do dwell psychics, longshoremen, psychic longshoremen, liars, thieves and defrocked priests (eek). You fall into a trance, dribbling insanely and waving your chicken bone in a particularly Thracian manner. And yet, as another execrable Equinox visits itself on an already overburdened world, the great Sol Invicti rolls drunkenly into your addlepate sign, charging your very googlies with the fire invisible. You rise up possessed of a divine fury not seen before in the annals of your family, even from those that spent time in jail (most of them). Marauding Mars bonks the brains out of narcotic Neptune (brevity suits the natural aptitudes of both) and you summon occult power from the very deepest wells of your inner being. (A small step ladder is required for this.)
As vamping Venus gropes cranky Chiron, an odd creature with hygiene as appalling as your own makes available the requisite sexual favours to increase the potency of your spell. Then it is that all hell breaks loose in Heaven! Eek! Uranus, the idiot god, intersects obscenely with the Loony Nodes! Ugh! A cascade of unnerving events explodes, with considerable startlement, in a benighted universe ruled by insane gods. Aargh!
What is happening, tiny twits? What will this mean with regard to the political and economic stability of the world? And, more importantly, how will it affect you? As I'm expiring from creeping ennui and terminal boredom, you'll have to click here next time and see what occurs. In the meantime, ave!