Golly gosh, my little two-faces! There you are and here I am. Thus, there's only one conclusion to be drawn. It's time for the monthly dose, is it not! And I am just the doctor to deliver it. I salute you, addlepates of the air sign persuasion. Open wide your foolish gobs and swallow the nasty medicine. It's prognostication time! It's vile! It's bitter! And it shall be your doom!
Now I have greeted you in a right and proper manner, let us turn our attention to the doings of offensive October. Your life has taken one extraordinary turn after another in recent times. With the move to Paris, the prostitution, cross-dressing, impersonation, world fame, war zones, deals with the devil and finally sexual congress with a demon named Odiferous Pigswill whom you have called up from the bowels of hell to assist you in breaking a contract with Lucifer, things have been busy. In fact, it's just been one damned thing after another!
Last time, you were in the throes of a consuming passion. Your demon had disguised itself as a comely and youthful person (your favourite kind as you don't like wrinkled skin or strange body smells) and the two of you fell into such a lustful concourse as made the fires of hell seem cool by comparison. You are set to marry this infernal creature and thus free yourself from the threat of hell. As the month gets underway, marauding Mars and idiot Uranus wrestle in unseemly manner and you travel the world in airy fashion with your demonic companion, playing pranks on persons of importance and doing anything that pleases you. Ghastly planets rut in the gutters of Heaven and you entertain yourselves with mischief.
Due to the power of invisibility and a complete lack of moral standards, you fart in public places, knock the hat from the Pope during a council with the cardinals, deflower virgins and tweak the sexual parts of persons of political importance or religious conviction. You belch at ceremonies, interrupt horse races where millions of dollars are at risk and start food fights at dinners across the world where persons of note masticate while discussing matters of moment. In addition, you have noisy sex during every church service you can attend and play the greatest hits of the Bay City Rollers at a farewell concert given by an elderly, overweight operatic tenor, beloved by all apart from you.
Vamping Venus enters neurotic Virgo, clashing with idiot Uranus and you and your demon lover build a castle of residence in a distant and watery location, entirely staffed by animals magically enchanted to walk and dress as humans and speak with strange or humorous accents. Unfortunately, your old trouble flares up at a New Moon in loathsome Libra. This odious occurrence brings a Solar Eclipse to your fifth house of pleasure and recreation and you find, yet again, you are bored little airheads! No pleasure, mischief or act of gross moral turpitude seems to have any meaning. Even sex with your demon lover, despite its very hurricane of passion seems to leave the core of your inner being unmoved and untouched, giving the rest of us further proof that there probably isn't one.
Mischievous Mercury enters morbid Scorpio and you worry over mundane matters, like your contract with Lucifer and impending nuptials with a demon. Vamping Venus clashes with underworld Pluto and Odiferous Pigswill tells you it is time to tie the knot. Thus, with a marriage made in hell will you end your contract with the infernal kingdom. To the average person (not that I know any) this in itself would sound highly suspicious. However, as such practices are perfectly normal in the morally perverse world of the air sign, you name the big day. As the great Sol Invicti clashes with miserable Saturn and enters gloomy Scorpio, you determine that you will divorce said demon the moment you are free from the threat of hell. You will have played the devil at his own game and beaten him. Clever as always, tiny twerps! But will it be clever enough? We shall see. By my little brown bottle, we shall see indeed! Mischievous Mercury clashes with nasty Neptune and the paperwork arrives to be perused before the ceremony. You note that hell and its demons seem to do everything in a formal and bureaucratic manner, somewhat surprisingly for a social group entirely devoted to the practice of evil.
The Full Moon comes in cloddish Taurus, bringing a Lunar Eclipse to your solar twelfth house and you read the document with fainting heart, wobbly legs and a veritable flood of tears. You've been stitched up by Satan, my bleating nitwits! The contract reads quite plainly that to marry a demon is to consent to dwell in hell forever! Eek! To be found guilty by the infernal court of breach of promise in the matter of a marriage to a demon is to be condemned to dwell in hell forever. Aargh! To fulfill your contract with Lucifer is to dwell in hell forever. Ugh!
Yikes and double yikes, clever little airheads! Hell has done you like a dinner! You run towards the window of the castle to flee for your life and the safety of your immortal soul but, as marauding Mars clashes with cranky Chiron, the animal attendants step to bar your way with an air of savage menace, quite unlike their previous eccentric good humour. They are the myrmidons of Satan no doubt and the ruffians of hell! Vamping Venus grinds her lustful thighs into decadent Libra and your infernally beautiful intended enters the room, dressed in magical robes that shimmer with all the glamours of the twenty-nine hells. So seductive is the demon that for a moment you almost forget what is at risk. Your soul! Eek!
It's Halloween, insufferable ninnies! And the world of demons, ghosties and ghouls has turned out for your wedding to Odiferous Pigswill as the room fills with all of the outré, bizarre and foul-smelling creatures one would be hard-pressed to find in the worst of nightmares. Is there no way out? Are you to be damned for all eternity? Is there anyone who will care if you are? I'm feeling unwell now. I shall rest and have my medication in preparation for my prognostications on the doom that will befall you and all your odious kind. Do click here next month for the thrilling climax to the Tragical History of Dr. Fustian Gemini, the idiot of days and most naughty in the sight of god. Ta! Ta!