Shiver me timbers, O tedious and flatulent children of Venus! It is I, Asperitus! Oracle of bitter truth! Let us waste no time with pleasantries. Let us attend forthwith to the vile and bitter prognostications that pertain to awful April. Last time, you had the laurel wreath of triumph about your curly locks, balanced equally on both ears wherein you wore pearl drops to match the corsage adorning your merkin, hirsute symbol of your vigour and your natural inclination towards idiocy. You had scored a victory through the good offices of the law against the sons and daughters of the cannoneers who had violently opposed the revival of the merkin and had burned to the ground your 'forbidden fruit' healing centre in a naughty attack of arson. The law had awarded you the prize of 'more sinned against than sinning' and committed these rough types to rebuild the thing they had destroyed and then undertake a six week course of 'fruity' healing, courtesy of your tender ministrations.
So, given that neither you nor I (sadly) have anything better to do, let us continue with this sorry saga and damned be he or she who first cries 'Hold! Enough'. As we have come to expect, ghastly planets fart in the cosmic winds as the month begins. In this instance, arrogant Aries and your solar seventh house are subject to these particular explosions of noxious gas. Thus, little imbeciles, do you find yourself warming to these rough and ready creatures that are raising up from the ashes the new sanctuary of forbidden fruit. In fact, in some cases, you're beginning to find a certain leanness of limb and keenness of eye attractive in a 'more than somewhat' sense. Soon, camaraderie is felt on both sides until you're all no more than jolly chums together, as old bitterness fades into a distant past.
There is, of course (as there will always be), a distressing incident as the New Moon in unspeakable Aries brings a Solar Eclipse to your house of partnership. The Carmen Miranda impersonator, who was a member of your staff, absconds to parts unknown with a basket of delicious melons and a doughty cannoneer. However, out of the goodness of your heart, you do not report this breech to the authorities. The tear-stained mousy creature remains, filling the gap (as it were) till a new assistant can be found, though this unspeakable person does alter the treatment option to include the odd mango (along with the bananas and raspberries), in compensation for the extra duty.
As vamping Venus enters cloddish Taurus and marauding Mars conjoins in unseemly fashion with nasty Neptune, you find the region concealed beneath your merkin begins to throb with interest each time a certain cannoneer stands close whilst awaiting instruction on matters that pertain to the erectile nature of the undertaking.
Eek! What will you do? But then, my tiny lame-brained twerps, distressing news comes as the Full Moon brings a Lunar Eclipse in gloomy Scorpio and your solar second house of money. Funds are now in short supply for merkin sales have dropped alarmingly as the fickle public has moved on to other baubles, trinkets and trash to amuse its endless appetite for novelty, novelty and novelty. And, as the film by your Swedish icon, Ingmar Iceberg, has been yet another box office bomb for this enigmatic genius, your financial interests have had to pick up the bill there as well. And last (though not least), the reality show, based on the mating dance of the merkin-wearer and starring Jude Law and the redoubtable Britney, has stalled. This prorogation is due to the stars constantly marrying and divorcing (whether this is to each other or to as yet unidentified third and fourth parties, no one is entirely certain). Thus, no income is to be derived from this source and the flagging merkin sales cannot get that boost they so sorely need.
Great gods alive and dead, O frightful little persons! You're going to have to do something to save your tottering empire. Ghastly planets cavort in nasty aspect as the insane gods shake the very foundations of the universe with their frenzied dancing! But is it the dance of life or dance of death? Click here next time and discover. Ta! Ta!