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What ho, my minuscule seafood miseries! I'm afraid I have ghastly news. A nasty event occurred while I was waiting in the queue for my interview with Santa. I was there largely to convey to this fatty in red my dissatisfaction with Christmases past. I have never received a gift I desired and am constantly plagued by post prandial indigestion, due to hospital chicken dinners and the undying hatred of my family, annually expressed in the innovative 'poison pen' Christmas card. This year they excelled all previous efforts by including in said missive an electronic rendition of WALK ON THE WILD SIDE by Bjorn Again.
Anyway, to cut a long story short (a talent I do possess but rarely use), I was in this queue and ruminating when I was accosted by a drunken elf who made a most shocking proposal as to what my Christmas gift from Santa should be. Shaken, I returned instanter to the ward and had my silver tube surgically inserted (eek). However, I find that, due to post traumatic stress disorder, I have temporarily lost the power of prognostication. Thus, you must content yourselves with a brief chortling, chiding and chastisement to guide you through diabolical December to the threshold of 2007 that will, predictably, be nasty and seemingly interminable.
As to the doings of the month, there will be a Full Moon on Dec 5th that will produce illness, ennui, insobriety, disaffection with work, a spiritual crisis and a bevy of persons that will shout or talk incomprehensibly. You will begin cross-dressing or develop a split personality but the quality of your life probably won't improve, despite the variation. As everything that opens and shuts then clatters into addlepate Sagittarius and your house of work and health, you'll work too hard, get sick and have people shout at you because you're not working hard enough but you're not sick enough to stop work. 'You can't win' as a wise man once said.
By the time a New Moon comes in the asinine sign of the Centaur, you dispose of your co-workers and write a book about philosophy that you entitle 'WHY?' Ghastly planets swan into the nasty sign of the Goat and relatives and ex-workers turn up for the Christmas dinner and the Christmas bonuses, despite the recent difficulty. Thus, you spend Yule as in every other year, sitting darkly depressed, watching relatives and hangers-on eating you out of house and home, clinging to a last thread of life in the faint hope that things will somehow improve next year. They won't! Ave!
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