Toodle pip, my two-faced twits! Last time we left you tortured by the burdens of human thought (eek) and also the victim of ghastly manifestations of an eerily spiritual nature whilst locked in your monastic cell in, needless to say, a delicate emotional state. Grim presences of a grim and ghostly nature have appeared to haunt you. Dog-heads, they have, and each one with bleeding eyes and a nest of waving serpents for their hair, the latest thing in coiffure from some hellish underworld, no doubt.
My sainted aunt, little two-faced twits! What will you do? Why, let us consult the vile and bitter prognostications for awful August and so discover. As mischievous Mercury gropes narcotic Neptune in a most disgusting manner, you run about, waving your arms in the air and screaming but it doesn't seem to do any good, as the phantoms neither respond nor depart, but just stare with bloody eyes. Of course, had you known in advance that cranky Chiron had recently returned to grim Capricorn and your solar eighth house, you would have understood that some gruesome event such as this was about to occur. After all, the solar eighth house is a grisly realm, chock full of unspeakable horrors such as death, bowel motions, sex, other people's business (eek), brothels and taxes, with the odd black magician thrown in. In light of this, what else would you expect to happen, my puling ninnies! By all the gods, just get on with life and stop whining!
Come the New Moon in lackwit Leo, you stand before the spectres, enjoining them to speak and thus explain their gruesome presence in your tiny cell. The great Sol Invicti then gropes the private parts of narcotic Neptune and you find yourself psychically communing with the gross and indecent horrors. They reveal that they are called 'the Furies'. Just as you're about to ask them to play 'Whiskey In The Jar', they correct this misconception and explain they are more traditionally known as the Erinnyes and are, in fact, of Greek origin. They are the 'angry ones' sent by the goddess of justice herself, Dike, to punish the crimes of evildoers. Just as you're about to ask them if this is anything to do with recent bisexual activity, they explain their main concern is the crime of parricide. Just as you're about to explain that you don't have a parrot, they inform you that on the occasion of the month of jaded June (I remember it well), you slew in a fit of rage the shades of your mother and father. Thus, have they come to punish your parricidal activity!
Egad! It took a long time to get all that clear, did it not! I expect it's this business of serious thought troubling you again, as you try to work everything out instead of just assuming that you know what's going. Anyway, with a raft of ghastly planets farting in the cosmic winds, the Full Moon comes in idiot Aquarius and you realize that you're pursued by the machineries of divine justice as embodied by the Erinnyes. They will pursue you relentlessly till vengeance is exacted. Gadzooks! You'll be a tragic hero, like other famous Greeks such as Orestes, Oedipus, Zorba and Jason Argument! You wonder if this means that you'll have a marble swimming pool and have to drink that ghastly battery acid that passes for alcohol in Greece. However, with the great Sol Invicti in Virgo, you turn to more pressing matters and ask the Erinnyes if they could kindly stop bleeding on the carpet in your cell as the monks are fastidious about hygiene and the stains are hard to remove. They do not seem to take kindly to your request and stare bloodily. Unnerved, you fly from your cell, but soon find they pursue you wherever you go. You cannot eat, relieve yourself or have a vigorous debate on the matter of silkworms but there are dog-headed phantoms with bleeding eyes staring remorselessly into your inmost reaches. And, the worst of it is that they are completely invisible to everyone else so there's no one you can complain to without being mistaken for a lunatic (hmm)! And, just as stretched nerves reach breaking point, an unmerciful clatter erupts in the Heavens.
Ye gods and little fishes, what is it now! Well, I'll tell you. It's a fleet of rampaging planets, careening crazily on the cosmic highway! Marauding Mars clashes yet again with mischievous Mercury then grapples in unseemly fashion with narcotic Neptune. You flee from the confines of the monastery into the snowclad hills of this wild mountain fastness, as the great Sol Invicti gropes Uranus, idiot god. Will you leave behind the dread Erinnyes or will you expire as the hounds of Dike dog you? As I'm feeling tired and distracted, you will have to return here next month to discover the ghastly outcome of this wittering piffle. In the meantime, I shall increase my prescription strength in the vain hope this will bring the mettle I need to continue with my lonely and irritable task. Ave atque vale, two-faces!