Gadzooks, my goatish galoots! It's the month of maudlin May and I'm about to prognosticate on your behalf. It's sobering to think of the sorry end to which we have come in this, the dreadful Danse Macabre of irritation that has locked us together in fateful embrace! Ah well! We'd best get on before I take another pull on my little brown bottle, forget what I'm doing and fall asleep. Let them be vile, I say! And so they are! Let them be bitter, I cry! And so they are! Let me pour them from the cup of woe so that you may imbibe! And so I do. Drink deep, my fine galoots!
We left you last time in your garb as Moses Goat, with your magic staff of llama poo, ready to unleash a curse upon a world that would neither refrain from naughtiness nor release its captive llamas. It was the curse of frogs to poison all the waterways you were set to cast! Eek! Heavens protect us against the coming amphibious horror! For the biblical scholars among you, it shall be noted this is not exactly the first curse used by the traditional Moses in the book of Exodus. That was, in fact, a curse that turned the rivers to blood. The curse of frogs was the bearded one's second outing. However, it shall also be noted the frogs in this instance are female and menstruating, thus compressing two ancient plagues to a single one. This innovation is in keeping with the modern practice of doing everything at speed and in a compacted form. Further innovations are to come, as and when required.
Jolly Jupiter clashes with the great Sol Invicti! Marauding Mars slithers into snivelling Pisces. Thus do you stride into the street, waving your staff theatrically and chanting in eldritch tones. An aura of esoteric power seems to surround you. Members of the public advance upon you as if hypnotized. They at first offer sexual favours but then swoon at your feet, possibly because of the odour emitted by your staff. 'Woe! Woe! Woe!' do you cry, in the time-honoured manner of prophets. Your listeners (those left conscious anyway) immediately become depressed. However, as listening to you is a depressing occupation anyway, we may not be able to assess accurately what is occurring here.
A ghastly New Moon comes in leaden Taurus and you weave the curse of the menstrual frogs. Eek! And, what's worse, my little hircine horrors, is that the effect is immediate. Persons everywhere begin to worry about their health as a distant croaking begins. Pavements all across the nation groan and crack beneath the press of stampeding feet that rushes to consult a chosen health practitioner! As mischievous Mercury clatters into leaden Taurus, the loathsome croaking turns from a whisper to a roar. Aargh! Foul winds fill the air as ghastly planets fart whilst disporting themselves in nasty aspect. Marauding Mars conjoins with Uranus, the idiot god, as he wrestles with jolly Jupiter. Soon it's raining frogs at the behest of those magical hands that wield the staff of llama poo!
Great gods alive and dead, tiny goatish twerps! That's you, isn't it! You're the owner of those hands and have become a powerful being as you stand up for the cause of the llamas on your mission of holiness. But will the plague of bleeding frogs turn the world from naughtiness? The Full Moon's light shines in idiot Sagittarius and your solar twelfth house. As this is a place noted for misery, failure, drug addiction and secret affairs, the omens are not good.
Perhaps, even though it's raining frogs, you'll have to move straight to curse number two, just to move things along. In this instance, number two is the plague of lice, though you could combine that with the flies or curse number four in the old money. Mischievous Mercury moves to Gemini as vamping Venus clashes with dark Pluto, lord of the underworld, and we leave you in contemplation of these options as frogs rain about you and the rivers of the world turn a rather nasty colour. Though, of course, in many of the world's great rivers, the menstrual blood of frogs may actually be a qualitative improvement to the constituent elements, given the current miasmal mix of effluents involved.
On that cheerful note, I'll leave you, tiny goat type things. I'll see you next month when, doubtless, the news and developments will be even more uplifting than they have been here in maudlin May. Ave, my pessimistic dotards!