Top of the morning to you, bottom types! Last time we left you recovering from a disaster, an entirely self-inflicted catastrophe of the sort you normally manage to bring about as you wobble waywardly on the path of the fatuous, infuriating and largely idiotic life you lead in a benighted universe ruled by insane gods.
Ye gods and little fishes, tiny nincompoops! How long are you going to go on like this, waffling about love, wittering on about injustice or whining about the colour of your valance or the size of your bottom. Or should those last two be the other way around!
But let us not quibble over details! Let us instead address the real question! Is this all that you're going to do with your wretched existence? After all, jolly Jupiter's been in Scorpio and your solar second house for almost a year and have you done anything about trying to improve your financial circumstances? I thought not! Perhaps you're still waiting for the cheque book fairy to come and put your affairs in balance? Well, it may not be the fairies that come in obnoxious October. But why speculate when we can consult the vile and bitter prognostications, drunk straight from the dread cup!
Mischievous Mercury begins the raft of cosmic farting as he grinds his ghastly passage (eek) into evil Scorpio. Money it is that's on your mind as you sit quaffing skinny latte with your idiot friends. However, as the busy messenger indecently assails the nether regions of cranky Chiron, your concerns are more inclined towards getting your friends to pay the beverage bill and wondering who you can approach to get the funds for your next project. And even then, you're not entirely sure what the project will be. You're considering a coffee table book on valances or an in-depth study of the works of Ingmar Iceberg, the icon of the Swedish cinema you so admire and everyone else despises.
But what's this? Ye gods and little fishes! It's a Full Moon in addlepate Aries, glaring nastily down on earth. Thus, you look up and someone is staring down at you, rather lustfully, O tiny twits! Is this love at first sight? As marauding Mars, in the shelter of your nitwit sign, thrusts his nasty protuberance at gloomy Saturn and dark Pluto by turns, it's hot in castle horizontal. But afterwards (and afterwards, and afterwards), you still find you're worrying about money as you have insufficient funds to live the life to which you aspire. Such worries are, of course, encouraged by the unseemly groping of mischievous Mercury and narcotic Neptune.
And yet, as marauding Mars rogers the great Sol Invicti, a mighty surge of energy sets your limbs lolloping in that effete and ungainly manner in which you tend to specialize. It's the New Moon in your obnoxious sign, little loony things in trousers! It's time for a new start. You dress yourself (a remarkable achievement) in the appalling clothes and colours that make you look like a vagrant piece of modern art! You have hair coiffured and nails done. Then, as ghastly planets grind their passage (eek) into the deadly realm of the ruler of the anus, Scorpio, by name, you stride out into the world of commerce and bang the desks of bankers, publishers and entrepreneurs, demanding funds. Some answer 'no' in a grim and depressing fashion (Mercury square Saturn). Some are taken with your aplomb and offer sex on the counter or the desk (vamping Venus grinding her passage et cetera, et cetera). A third group prevaricates, claiming they will discuss such matters with their accountant, legal representative or priest (jolly Jupiter squares lugubrious Saturn). But then finally this exhausting journey receives a sudden uplift as mischievous Mercury moves into perverse reverse, bringing an old contact back into your sphere.
Hoorah, my nitwit Scales types! At last, your dreams hurtle towards a merited fulfillment. Naughty planets cavort with cranky Chiron and your petition for dosh reaches the ears of an imbecile that once received a miraculous healing from your fruit-filled hands, long ago when you did such things as this in your healing sanctuary, the Palace of Forbidden Fruit. Egad! A chance in a million and yet it has favoured you! A pain-wracked ninny that gained blessed release through the application of your mango is ready to fund whatever project you wish to do.
As marauding Mars barrels into cranky Chiron's private parts and the shadows of Halloween descend, you're seized by inspiration. You know instanter what you will do with the dosh you have. You will make a film in the Swedish manner about murder, betrayal and unrequited love. But, stunningly and in a radical twist, it will include your love of bedroom linen. BLOOD ON THE VALANCE will it be called. Click here next time to discover how this bold project unfolds (that's a joke about bed linen). For the nonce, ave, my odious bottom types!
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