- Salutations, seafood ninnies! Naughty November brought you to the edge of unreason as the vast reaches of wealth and power gained by dint of pegs of devotion and despite open into a nightmare world of suffering and apparitions by the fireside in your island sanctuary.
What shall we find in the month of doleful December? Let us consult the vile and bitter prognostications and find out. You were confronted by a spectre when last we left. But, before we go on! I realize I am late with this forecast and that much of the month has passed so I will fill you in on what you have missed so far. As mischievous Mercury turned retrograde in Sagittarius, the staff you summoned to protect you from this errant apparition babbled incoherently whilst several elderly persons lost consciousness entirely. The spectre gathered force and substance from the ensuing carry-on (vamping Venus and marauding Mars grappling with narcotic Neptune). Soon it seemed that all around you was eclipsed by the shimmering phantom and its eldritch light. Your entire retinue was frozen in tableau (Mercury retrograde in nasty aspect with miserable Saturn). You were thus left to face alone the apparition.
Great gods alive and dead, tiny nitwits! It seemed to coalesce into a living light about statue of your sainted mother (god bless her cotton socks and her giant underpants)! It's the New Moon in loony Sagittarius and the spectre speaks. Egad! It speaks with the voice of your dear departed mother (god bless her tea-cakes and her jam-filled sticky buns). 'Give up the pegs of despite! Make only the pegs of devotion! Or I'll hide your bath toys and thrash your flaccid bottom!' Great Heavens and dancing monkeys, it is the shade of your venerable mater (god bless her hot water bottle and her massive hairy chest).
Vamping Venus enters loony Sagittarius, clashing with idiot Uranus and you fall to your knees (ouch!), weeping and repenting of your evil ways! You cry that you will liberate the workers from drudgery and have a rousing Christmas party where you will give gifts to all and cast the pegs of despite into a blazing fire to warm their aching bones. The great Sol Invicti enters gloomy Capricorn and your solar seventh house and so you do as you have said. The rule of Yule, my little urchins from the gutter!
Hooray, cry all the newly liberated workers, though many are still encumbered by the bandages and splints that are the legacy of torture and cruel, inhuman treatment. Time heals all wounds, does it not! But what's this? Great gods alive and dead, it's as if the shade of your mother is not done with her character building reforms of your errant nature. At New Year's Eve and the clash of marauding Mars with idiot Uranus, the fire from the pegs of despite is so vast it burns out of control and consumes your island mansion in a fiery conflagration. Oh well! At least you were well insured!
Auld lang syne, my little turnip heads! See you next time with a new and exciting tale torn from the pages of your miserable and worthless lives. Ta! Ta!