- Attend me, piscine types! Cease hauling on your bowlines and crying those torrents of wretched tears! Prick up your miserable ears and listen! Do you hear that! It's the sound of wild winds and raging seas, roaring and fit to become a hurricane of change that will sweep through the waters of your execrable lives! For woe, woe and seven times woe, the coming hurricane is foreseen in a torrent of vile and bitter prognostications, those due for offensive October in this instance.
Batten the hatches, you lily-livered swabs! Trim your sail! Raise your piscatorial umbrellas and read on for this is the tale of 'avast behind'! Marauding Mars clashes with idiot Uranus, inciting an outbreak of sexual profligacy both fore and aft on board your buccaneering craft, the like of which has not been seen since the decline of the British Navy. Great gods alive and dead, it gives a whole new meaning to the term 'jolly roger'.
Vamping Venus enters anal Virgo and you roam the seven seas, searching for opportunities to loot and pillage whilst managing the drug-running operation you snaffled from the fishing fleet to keep your cash income high. But what's this! By my little brown bottle, it's the very storm I predicted! Idiot Uranus clashes with vamping Venus and a veritable fury of the elements sweeps up your buccaneering houseboat and drives it like a bath toy beset by childish tantrums. Jolly Jupiter clashes with idiot Uranus and mountainous waves swamp the decks, washing over the side the latest consignment of mysterious white powder. Mischievous Mercury clashes with cranky Chiron and several of the wilder fellows of your piratical crew are swept overboard to find their just reward in Davy Jones locker.
Great gods alive and dead, the New Moon comes in loathsome Libra, bringing a Solar Eclipse to your eighth house of death and sex and you even lose interest in the buccaneering rumpy pumpy you've been having! This is largely due to seasickness of course! An unfortunate impediment to sexual intercourse regardless of the position one adopts! Mischievous Mercury enters gloomy Scorpio and you're lost in this tempestuous ocean with neither map nor compass to navigate a path among the raging walls of water. Vamping Venus clashes with underworld Pluto and the remnants of your crew lash one another to the mast. This is for safety's sake but it makes quite a pleasant substitute for sex if the ropes are tied correctly to the rolling deck and handrails. The great Sol Invicti wrestles with lugubrious Saturn and hunger growls in empty bellies. By my little brown bottle! A life on the ocean waves is not supposed to be like this!
As the great Sol Invicti enters the realm of death and genitalia (Scorpio), mischievous Mercury clashes with nasty Neptune and the winds finally drive you to landfall. You wrest your trusty glass (that's privateer talk for telescope) from your trusty belt (that's privateer's talk for belt) and raise it to your trusty buccaneer's eye (etc) to spy what you can spy. Ye gods and little fishes, tragic persons! It's the south of France (je suis un rockstar) and the town of Bayonne. But still the wild winds drive your stricken craft. Into the harbour, up the river Adour, then on into its tributary stream, the Gave! Along past Orthez and Pau, though your houseboat breaks up, of course, due to the shallowness of the waters, depositing you and the last of your buccaneers and headstand devotees at the site of Lourdes where the little ones saw the Virgin.
Great gods alive and dead, it's a miracle! You begin crawling to the sacred waters to heal yourself of this recent round of ills as well as all the others you have born in your long and tragic life. But what's this? By my little brown bottle! Say not so! Your buccaneers rise from the shallows with that buccaneering look upon their faces! The one that says 'loot and pillage'!
Yikes and double yikes, my gasping guppies! They intend to despoil this sacred site, robbing the relics and fouling the waters. Egad, it will be just like the Celts at Delphi. You have descended to the depths of depravity in recent times, but not to depths such as these. You open your mouth to shout a buccaneering prohibition like 'hold hard there, me hearties', 'belay that, shipmates' or another such that you have learned in your stint of seafaring, but horror follows upon horror!
The Full Moon comes in cloddish Taurus, bringing a Lunar Eclipse to your solar third house of communication and you are struck dumb! The world seems to spin, just as it used to in your drug-taking days. Vamping Venus enters loathsome Libra and your body is filled with ecstatic pulsations. Light blazes above you and the air is filled with strange and beautiful sound. You stand transfixed as do your crew, their mission of despite forgotten. The pulse and hum of light and sound seems to consume your very being. Something supernatural is occurring, just as the night comes to usher in Halloween! Just think of it, little fish-faced tragedies! You may be part of a new beatific vision to be written into the history of Lourdes. Will you be the next Bernadette perhaps? Click here next month and see!