Odds bodkins, bottom types! I'm late with the forecast but this was only to give you some extra time to wonder whether you should bother reading it or not. Actually, that's a lie, as so many things are in this naughty modern world. I overslept because I kept dreaming about a giant wheel to which all twelve of you Zodiac beasts were nailed and I was spinning it faster and faster. Ha! Ha!
Well, clearly that's enough of that. We had better get on with the vile and bitter prognostications for doleful December while a portion of the month remains. Last time, your mission to revive the merkin was behaving in the manner of a runaway success! I shall update you on what you have missed. Mischievous Mercury turned retrograde in hard aspect to miserable Saturn and it seemed as if every reward you had ever dreamed of that had been unfairly held back or snatched away was now placed at your fingertips! Hooray! And so were the vain and foolish beliefs you have held about your abilities vindicated at last, apparently.
Huzzah and double huzzah, tiny nitwit things! Dollars seemed to grow and breed in your coffers. Toadies fawned upon you. Sycophants sickened everyone (including even themselves), finding further ways to praise you and your prowess. Persons in power and with business acumen seemed able to ignore your less prepossessing qualities (an insufferable nature and a weak character) and so seek your advice and hire you for your services. Yet all of them were intent on one thing alone! To grasp your merkin and never let it go! Eek! Well, perhaps that's not so bad really. And all of this because a raft of ghastly planets too tedious to name cavorted in nasty aspects too loathsome to speak of. Ah me!
All this leads us to the New Moon in silly Sagittarius, one that clasps the retrograde messenger to its heaving bosom where there are startling developments that alter this idyllic scene. Vamping Venus enters loony Sagittarius and clashes with Uranus, the idiot god and persons rage in the streets, protesting against the revival of the merkin. Some do so on religious grounds while others claim the culture of political correctness to make the merkin a whipping boy. 'It's an offence in the eyes of the almighty' cry the religious fanatics. 'It's an insult to women' hiss the nouveau feminists! It's bloody awful to look at, cry a group known as the 'voice of reason' but they are quickly silenced by the mob.
In the meantime, you are glad of heart, my self-inflating idiots! The iconic Swedish film director, Ingmar Ice Pick has agreed to shoot her new film, INCEST AND THE FAMILY GRAVE with a cast clad only in merkins as they prance in the snow clad hills of Transylvania. Great gods alive and dead, my tiny wretches! It's to be an erotic Swedish vampire movie about two of your favourite topics by your favourite film director. Could things get better?
The answer is 'no', of course! They're just about to get a great deal worse. Mercury moves forward and the great Sol Invicti enters miserable Capricorn, visiting yet another miserable bloody Solstice upon the world. Thus, while you sit in Merkin Manse (your new home), negotiating with Ingmar's agent to be the sole merkin provider for this undertaking and have a walk-on part, the streets erupt in flame. Marauding Mars thrusts his armature into addlepate Sagittarius and a new anti-merkin group appears out of nowhere. They are ruffians one and all whose ancestry is rooted in the military. Once upon a time, tiny imbeciles, the merkin was also a mop for cleaning cannon, back in the days when men were men and blew each other to bits in 'eyeball to eyeball' warfare rather than this modern day affair of laser lights and button-pushing.
As the Lunar Nodes enter arrogant Aries and loony Libra, these fierce myrmidons of the war god roam the streets in packs, seizing people by their merkins. They then thrust them into metal cylinders in the manner of their forefathers, the artillery-men of long ago, thus debasing the foppish styling of the merkin and restoring it to its 'mop-ish' glory. The streets are soon alive with pro and anti merkin riot! Merkin shops are burned to the ground. Merkin stylists are hung from lampposts by the offending hirsute thing they wear.
Quelle horreur, my miniature cretins! What will you do? Could this somehow be your fault? By my little brown bottle, of course, it could, as the coming cycle of litigation and consequent financial ruin will bring home to you. Click here next month and see yet another of your pratfalls from grace. Oh, by the way! Merry Christmas and a happy New Year!