- Greetings, tragic fishy things! By all the gods alive and dead, you're having a time of it, aren't you! With idiot Uranus loose in your wretched sign for these next seven years, wreaking havoc and what have you! And, of course, this month brings no relief from the havoc. For this is naughty November and these are the vile and bitter prognostications thereof.
Last time, we left you shipwrecked at Lourdes where you and your buccaneering horde were in the process of being bedazzled and entranced by visionary forces beyond your comprehension (like almost everything in life, really). So what will it be this month, I hear you cry? Why, more havoc, just like I told you! Please do try and pay attention when I'm prognosticating! Vamping Venus conjoins in unseemly fashion with jolly Jupiter and glorious visions of the Virgin come to devour you, in a virginal and spiritual manner of course, rather than the lustful, decadent manner of the drug-besotted visions of the recent past. Mischievous Mercury bursts into addlepate Sagittarius and your mind races while your emotions shriek with the turmoil of a coming epiphany. Yes! You're about to have an epiphany, fishy nitwits! And, as the great Sol Invicti clashes with nasty Neptune, you do.
Oh, golly gosh! You fall insensate to the ground, quite common where the epiphany is concerned. So, this must be it! You lie, ruminating in a semi-conscious state, a condition with which you are more than passingly familiar. Mischievous Mercury clashes with idiot Uranus and you wonder why you have stepped off the spiritual path and set aside the headstand, giving way to sex, drugs and buccaneering. Marauding Mars clashes with lugubrious Saturn and you find your inner fishes are exhausted with this wild life and the wild ride that ended it. The planet of old age, sickness and death then turns retrograde in your solar fifth house as marauding Mars moves to gloomy Scorpio. You decide (in a semi-conscious way) it is time for another quest to uplift your soul and that you must seek a new frontier for your spiritual growth, as soon as you can stand again.
This 'spiritual growth' is a thing that I believe has become increasingly important in the modern world whereas, in my day, we would have had any such growth surgically removed. But, great gods alive and dead, what's this? Marauding Mars conjoins in unseemly fashion with the Lunar South Node while a New Moon comes in the dread sign of the anus. There's trouble here, my little fishy nitwits and it's coming from another life!
The vision looming at the edges of your consciousness now engulfs you completely. The Virgin appears to you. It is Lourdes after all! She speaks in the warm and ethereal manner one often sees in films and tells you that you shall have your wish and thus be sent on a journey of learning. Instantly, you are cast back in time to France of another era.
'Learn from the past, idiot piscatorial things!' says the Virgin. Ye gods and little fishes, she knows you well.
'In the past, you will learn lessons for the future,' she says and fades from sight. How frustrating! That's the trouble with these visions! They're always fading away when you need them most.
So! By my little brown bottle, you're a time traveller! What do you think? Perhaps you'll get lost and have to stay, wearing wigs and powder, never washing and having sexual intercourse with members of the lower orders without their consent. Hmm! I'm quite taken with that myself, especially the bit about the wigs. Never mind! Let us proceed!
You stare about you in amazement, tiny fishface types! You are in the court of France. Fops fop about the place in a foppish manner and you are one of those fops. In fact, you're the Dauphin of France! Or is it the Dolphin? You begin to regret that you'd constantly drawn rude pictures during history lessons and thus never paid attention. It must be the Dolphin! Egad! You're a mammary of the royal persuasion. Of course, ghastly planets and their nasty aspects are creating all of this. However, I can't be bothered recounting them anymore than you could understand me if I did so. Mischievous Mercury conjoins in unseemly fashion with underworld Pluto and an overdressed fellow in a frock approaches you.
Great Heavens! He's a cardinal! The cardinal of France! He speaks to you liturgically. What will you say in reply? You pray inwardly to the Virgin whilst smiling outwardly in an inane manner, a practice to which you are well accustomed due to your general lack of social skills. However, the Virgin does not speak and thus you utter an audible curse about virgins in general. The cardinal hears it, nods sagely and turns away laughing.
Great gods alive and dead, tiny nitwits! You've just done something incredibly clever. What on earth was it? Oh well! At least it's made you a believable Dolphin! As the Full Moon comes in loathsome Gemini and Sun and Moon clash with idiot Uranus, you begin to enjoy being a fop of the French persuasion. Really, you were born to it and all the power that goes with it. You will stay in old France and be a fop forever, ordering others about in a foppish manner.
But what's this? Yikes and double yikes it's not good news. Mars and Venus conjoin in unseemly fashion to thumb their noses at nasty Neptune. It's trouble brewing, idiot fishy types. Trouble of a twelfth house nature, which we all know is trouble of the most tragic kind! Click here next month and see what ills are about to befall you in the land of wine and brie and crusty bread! Ta! Ta!