Toodle pip, tasty little underwater morsels! It's time for banter of the bilious kind, as provided by my enlightened self, the master of sublime irritation. And, by all that's unholy, it's time for prognosticating of the vilest and most bitter type! This is the month of devilish December!
Last time, we left you with a fortune at your fingertips after a gambling success. You were trying to decide between the investment of further capital on the devil's wheel or ten kilos of the finest Swiss chocolate and a quiet night at home with your model railway and your finger down your throat. This cavalier stance is the result of jolly Jupiter's traverse of evil Scorpio, in an ongoing bout of lewdness with marauding Mars, the god of belligerence, psychotic violence, foul language, forward thrusting and ghastly farting noises such as schoolboys are wont to make.
At this point, we are forever indebted to the fickle fancy of the insane gods as they then deem there shall be a New Moon in addlepate Sagittarius. Thus do you decide to be a professional gambler, mercifully rendering further exploration of your private indisposition surplus to requirements. You decide to risk further cash on the wheel, resembling as it does the pattern of your model railway, your previous winning number bearing an odd resemblance to your favourite station (the one with the tunnel).
But what's this? Mischievous Mercury goes direct and, by my sainted aunt, you play and lose! And after choosing a number that looks most like the station with the café! Eek! Fortunately, you had not risked your entire winnings, only a portion. You wonder if the first win was just a turn of fate, not to be repeated. But then another burst of cosmic flatulence befouls the winds of Heaven, as cranky Chiron enters Aquarius, sign of the idiot god. Gadzooks!
Last time this happened, if you recall, you became a master hypnotist. This time an inner voice rises from the deepest reaches of your subconscious. Ugh! How unnerving! And yet it's not! For this voice says that as you once could control the minds of that race of fools and weaklings known as humans, now the power of your mind can reach out and control the turn of a roulette wheel. Great Caesar's ghost, little tikes! It's spooky but it might just be true! What do you think?
Anyway, as marauding Mars resumes his characteristic forward thrusting, terrifying the elderly and reducing religious persons to a sermonizing frenzy, you decide to have another crack! Eek! You throw your entire stake on the number that resembles the station with the underpass. Hmm! How subconscious! Mischievous Mercury skittles into addlepate Sagittarius, engaging in ghastly congress with cranky Chiron, and the power of your mind is a terrifying thing. The steel fingers of your mental hands reach out to modify the turn of the wheel till it slows and slows, seemingly at your behest. Jolly Jupiter rubs his corpulence against the wrinkles of aging Saturn and you've won the pot, my creepy, crabby nitwits of the nipper!
Vamping Venus now enters Aquarius, sign of the idiot god, making lewd gestures at cranky Chiron. Thus do comely casino denizens, nighttime pale people, slink up beside you as they smell fiscal success and give you that 'come hither' look. And the 'I'm thirsty' look as well! A Full Moon blazes in loony Gemini and you're the talk of the moment as sharks, security staff and the odd assortment of the general public sidles up to get next to the action. It's 'you' that's the action, my tiny seafood ning-nongs!
But what's this? Egad! The still small voice of your subconscious says 'stop', as mischievous Mercury clashes with Uranus, idiot god and god of idiots. And so you stop, my crabby things! Obedient to the voice that has put you back in clover. And there'll be more than ten kilos of Swiss chocolate on the menu tonight for the great Sol Invicti enters gloomy Capricorn, visiting yet another solstice on an already over-burdened world. Thus, you leave the casino with a comely partner, whispering sweet nothings that mostly involve the idea of going back to your apartment to see your model railway. And to think, the poor wee creature takes this for eccentric humour and laughs. It won't seem so funny after you've tied her/him to the tracks and played the choo-choo goes into the tunnel half a dozen times as you and the servant gorge yourselves on Swiss chocolate.
Of course there are ghastly planets that cavort in nasty aspect to account for these ill-doings but I am so overcome with ennui that I simply can't be bothered to recount them. Suffice to say that, by the New Moon in grim Capricorn that comes on New Year's Eve, you're set to build your empire of wealth once more with the ill-gotten gains of mind control and the roulette wheel. But will it make your head spin, my nasty things of hard shell and soft underbelly? You'll have to click here next month and see, won't you! In the meantime, ave atque vale, seafood ninnies!