Ho to you, seafood atrocities! How are your crabby claws and your ghastly soft underbellies? Nay, little puerile palpitating pincer persons! Speak no reply on these matters nor, indeed, on any matter for I have no desire for converse with lesser beings. The question was purely rhetorical and for the sake of form alone, as is my custom.
Now, as we are well into the month of jittery January, it won't require much of the tiny portion of the brain cells that remain to you to deduce that I have awoken only recently and am late with the forecast. I would like to say that this was meant to be a lesson in accepting that, for all that happens, nothing changes. However, I cannot claim this as I merely overslept, due to confusion over prescription strength. Thus, all that may be deduced from the event is that medication plans are as likely for a dose of 'gang aft aglae' in Heaven as on Earth. In an effort to bridge the gap thus left since the commencement of New Year, I shall first predict your futures retrospectively by going over what has happened in the interim. And, on that note! By all the gods alive and dead, aren't relationships a bothersome thing!
You see, little has occurred besides the odious farting of hideous planets in the lugubrious sign of the Goat, afflicting your solar seventh house (and thus yourselves) with all manner of miseries and problems from the past! All of these involve persons with whom you share contractual agreements, vehicles, remote controls, homes, children, food and body fluids, probably in that order of importance. As vamping Venus is in perverse reverse in the sign of the hircine horrors, near relatives, ex-lovers and elderly family members, servants and business partners will have imposed on you, run away, neglected their duties or overspent the budget, nearly bankrupting you as usual.
As mischievous Mercury is also in that same unspeakable sign, those close to you will have not ceased the flow of worry, chastisement or general mindless babble to draw breath for a moment. Now, as we left last time, you had scored a win at the casino and met a new pal that you invited home to inspect your model railway. Your intent was to sexually torture this new chum (jolly Jupiter in Scorpio in your solar fifth house) while you and your new servant ate Swiss chocolate by the gross. However, the new chum loved model railways and torture, and fell instantly in love with the servant. The two of them ate all the chocolate and then sent you out to win money to buy more whilst they played the choo-choo goes into the tunnel in a manner that was quite unsettling even for you that has recently had a Saturn transit! Eek!
Thus, at the Full Moon in your own neurotic sign, you're sitting about the place like a vicar at the hedonists' picnic, wondering how to wrest back control of your life from those who've taken it over. After all, you already have a bevy of useless relatives and children locked in the attic. You yourself imprisoned them because they preyed on your bounty like cannibals or vultures. As marauding Mars, jolly Jupiter, grim Saturn and narcotic Neptune grope each other in an orgiastic congress in the Heavens, you begin to wonder if you will ever find pleasure in life without paying the account for someone else's shenanigans, greed or selfishness!
By my sainted aunt! That concern has a depressing ring of truth to it! But what's this? Egad! Gadzooks! And other such quaint expressions to indicate surprise and alarm. It's the great Sol Invicti and mischievous Mercury, slithering into Aquarius, sign of the idiot god! And, what's worse, they cavort in lascivious manner with cranky Chiron.
Great Caesar's ghost! Their dark and ghastly passage (eek) leads straight to the realm of the solar eighth house, the very bowels of excrescence, nastiness, occult powers, betrayal and taxation! All that is wretched in the human condition! Quelle horreur! Look away all those of faint heart and squeamish disposition! For a grim and ghastly stare begins to etch itself on the face of the crustacean!
My dear crabby things! You have a cunning plan! But what is its nature, I hear you cry? Will you return to the path of mesmerism and yet again bid for world domination through hypnotic control? Will you move to Hamburg and begin the manufacture of frozen sausages to export to Portsmouth, Philadelphia or Bristol? Or, most gruesome of all, will you yet again take to talking about the ghastly secrets from your hideous past until we all must cry 'Hold, enough!' and flee from the room with cotton wool in our smarting ears?
Ye gods and little fishes, I'm feeling unwell! I must be prone and immediately anaesthetized. Click here next time. If I have sufficiently recovered, I shall speak of the cunning plan you have conceived. Ave atque vale, tiny nitwits of the nipper!