Odds bodkins, little nitwits of the nipper! Last time, your home circumcision kit was on sale to a public with more money than sense and keen for any novelty to crack the hard shell of humdrum that is the concealing husk for the mind-numbing tedium that is the nut of modern life.
So what will be the outcome of the venture, I hear you cry, cranky crustaceans? Attend to me as I, Asperitus, oracle of bitter truth, empty the vial of dank and viscous prognosticating liquids upon your very best party dress, to dampen your crabby ardour once again.
Ho, you tiny lunatics! Ghastly planets fart in nasty aspect as savage September begins. In the first instance, jolly Jupiter gropes the private parts of vamping Venus and you have sex with the hired help in your domicile in order to offset the stresses created by your natural tendency to worry. You also give a dinner party where you eat and drink too much and constantly run to the airing cupboard wherein dwells Mammon, god of money, who is mentor and guide in your latest farcical undertaking. Come the New Moon in anal Virgo, the kit hits the streets as the saturation advertising enjoins the mindless public to enjoy the surgical efficiency of a sharpened blade in the comfort of their homes. As Uranus, the idiot god, is involved in this odious configuration, the reaction is mixed at first. Sales boom in some regions, but in others the product remains unopened on the shelves of indifferent retail outlets.
Yet as mischievous Mercury clashes with the idiot god, religious groups begin to zealously express their views on your offering. There are cries of praise and exultation at its stark simplicity and fine accompaniment of natural antibiotics and surgical dressings. However, there are those of extreme or fundamental views that find it unseemly and lacking the authenticity required for such a meaningful religious (and also painful) act. As vamping Venus enters gloomy Scorpio, you celebrate such success as you have had by indulging in the pleasures of the flesh. However, odious farting begins to foul the cosmic winds in a manner that is set to make your crabby head and nasty little nippers spin with delirium.
Marauding Mars, god of war and belligerent psychosis, is the prime offender in the department of flatulent effusions. He intrudes his vile weaponry into the private parts of jolly Jupiter (eek) and dark Pluto (egad), god of the underworld, thus forming a configuration of unutterable horror known as a yod, the Finger of God. And the divine digit singles you out for especial attention. Religious zealots come to picket your domicile, demanding that the home circumcision kit be taken off the market as it is, in their one-eyed view, an abomination in the sight of the lord and most unclean. However, other evangelistic lunatics come to praise the cleanliness of this circumcising thing you have made. They too gather at your home to praise you.
Thus begins an altercation between them and the prohibitionists. This soon becomes a rowdy and riotous display. Of course, ghastly aspects between dark Pluto, mischievous Mercury and the great Sol Invicti have set this in motion, as these three cosmic hooligans careen and cavort in unseemly fashion on the highways of Heaven. By the Full Moon in tear-stained Pisces, you are grumpy, sleep-deprived and must send out for supplies, as you cannot exit from your driveway to the street, due to nasty and awkward religious contention taking place upon the footpath.
Naturally, you are distressed more than somewhat by these tribulations. As the great Sol Invicti grinds his way into loathsome Libra, visiting another ghastly Equinox on an over-burdened world, you find yourself trapped in crabby manse while rioting zealots turn your life into a nightmare. They either burn your kit as an abomination and the work of unclean devils or build altars upon which to praise and worship it. You fly to the airing cupboard to consult with Mammon but you find him fast asleep and entirely disinterested in the affair. This, of course, is typical behaviour in divinities of any kind or rank. Once they have what they want from you, it's blind eyes and deaf ears at every turn. Thus you panic and spend more money indulging in the diversion of pleasures so disgusting they cannot be named.
However, the cost of them will certainly be counted as vamping Venus engages in immoral acts with narcotic Neptune. Are you about to come to rack and ruin with the financial thumbscrews tightening at every moment? Is the occult power you summoned to desert you in your hour of need? Is there any sense at all to be had in continuing this outrageous piffle for another moment? These and all other questions may or may not be answered if you click here next month. Ave atque vale, my precious nitwits of the nipper!