By all the giggling gods, it's you, my two-faced twits! I return here, late as usual, but with my powers of prognostication once more intact. Thus will I prognosticate in your general direction, O silly types in nasty trousers! Behold! It is I, Asperitus, the addled oracle! This is the bitter truth, and vile as well!
Being mindful of the lateness of the hour (laggard be my name), I shall recap upon past doings in the unlikely event that something of import has occurred. Last time, as I recall, the quest for Holy Grill shattered like a dream, destroyed by bitterness, argument and, of course, being sacked from your job in Sweden. Meantime, you have taken up with a rich and powerful individual that travels the world with you (jolly Jupiter in flagrante delicto with cranky Chiron) and pays all your bills (the Full Moon in neurotic Cancer).
Hmm! You seem to be on the road to recovery after recent setbacks, moving with an agility that typifies your ghastly sign. Jolly Jupiter, crapulent lord of fortune, meanders through your house of partnership and is thus responsible for this stroke of luck. Yet, luck is a fickle Lady, as we know. Is the wealth of your new estate set to reveal its dark side? Read on and discover, teeny weenie types!
We arrive in the moment as the Great Sol Invicti and mischievous Mercury meet in unseemly congress while you happen upon your new paramour deep in discussion with myrmidons and persons of dastardly appearance and, very probably, of ill repute as well. Death, felonious activity and vast amounts of dosh all feature as subjects in their dark and morbid converse. Startling revelations reveal themselves as mischievous Mercury skitters with the jitters into idiot Aquarius. It seems your new associate is the tripartite gonzo, a dethroned monarch, a defrocked head of a religious order and a drug lord, all in one. The creature it seems is the villain of all villains. As marauding Mars has latterly shafted the underworld of dark Pluto with his naughty bit then moved to gruesome Capricorn, you're so excited and yet terrified by this development that you alternately have sex and spend money in a desperate search for distraction from the 'demi monde' turn your life has taken.
And yet, come the New Moon in the lugubrious sign of the Goat, you decide to throw in your lot with this emperor of incarnate evil and become the rascally and reprehensible reprobate you truly are. Should anyone notice an appreciable difference in your behaviour, doubtless emails will be exchanged on the topic. And so we find you planning dirty deeds of daring-do, sharpening deadly weapons (eek) and swearing oaths in blood and spittle as a surety of the future foulness of all your actions. You are one with your partner in crime. Shriek and double shriek!
But what's this, my hapless hearties? Why it's the great Sol Invicti, rollicking in a vain and selfish manner into Aquarius, sign of the idiot god. Thus do you and your perilous paramour set off on a yacht (obligatory item for the crime lord) to Spain, the South Seas or some other region that begins with a sibilant 'S'. You will be buccaneers, a felonious pairing of global proportion, rooking the rich, lampooning the law and running aground the jolly boat of justice at every port of call on the Seven Seas. Egad! How mighty and nautical is that!
But will it all be shipshape, shipmate? Or will the shattering bolt from the blue, delivered by the rancid rutting of jolly Jupiter and Uranus the idiot god shiver your timbers, hoist you on the yardarm of your own perennial foolishness then send you for a sojourn to Davy Jones' locker! Perhaps you'll have to walk the plank! Perhaps a wild sea storm will crack your jib! Eek!
How painful is a cracked jib, I wonder! Only time will tell, tiny twits! Click here next month for the tragic tale of Marooned on Moron Isle! Ave atque vale, silly types!
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