Greetings, tragic fishy types! No doubt you will have missed me, lost as I was in a slough of despond, adrift on a sea of creeping ennui in awful April. How must it have been in so dreadful a time (as indeed it was) with no irritable voice to guide you on the ghastly path of life and other indignities?
Yet the dread malaise still continues, finding me bereft and recumbent still but now maligned as a malingerer, even as malevolent May continues to unfold at an alarming rate. Thus I rise from my bed of woe, despite the chapter and verse of my afflictions, to tend to your miseries and foibles, intent upon making all the bad things of your life just a little worse, if I can.
And certainly I can for I am Asperitus, the baffling bard, the piffling prophet and the auspex of the awful! Attend to me and tremble, my wittering piscines! We shall waste no more time on pleasantries or badinage. Instead we shall fill the dread cup and deeply imbibe.
Firstly, let us look rearward in an effort to come to terms with that which has recently passed in the malignant passage (eek) of this maladjusted month. It all began with a ghastly Full Moon in evil Scorpio, so doubtless there were nasty incidents with foreigners, exotic food, the law, academics or philosophers. You may have become lost in a blackthorn forest in Halifax, made yourself ill with a surfeit of catmint or sued a well known philanthropist for failing to give you the money you wanted. Mischievous Mercury and the great Sol Invicti then clashed with grim Saturn and you would have been delayed in traffic, late for all of your appointments and unable to express yourself coherently on arrival. However, as you're always late and generally incoherent when you do turn up, no one would have noticed the difference. You will have also argued at home or had secret affairs with loud-mouthed persons in authority, due entirely to the shenanigans between vamping Venus and dark Pluto, a topic best avoided in discussion if the correct medication is unavailable.
As vamping Venus slithered into slimy Cancer while mischievous Mercury groped the private parts of narcotic Neptune, you will have attended parties and eaten or drunk too much. You then, of course, forgot with whom you were talking and pretended to see someone you knew across the room so you could rush off and hide in the toilet until your memory returned. You may well still be there for all I know!
The busy messenger slid into nitwit Gemini and you wandered about at home, pretending to be busy with a dozen little tasks, talking to yourself or banging your fingers with the hammer as you tried to put up pictures or fix the DVD because you'd jammed a foreign body in there once again. At this point, you would have begun feeling strange (snigger) as jolly Jupiter in silly Sagittarius was rogering the bollocks off Uranus, the idiot god, currently disporting himself in your sign. You will have spoken rudely to persons of position, being most contumely or disagreeable as you flouted their authority. You will have also disgraced yourself at a foreign embassy or declared war on a minor principality due to religious or political differences.
But it doesn't end there! Not by a long chalk! You see, tiny turnips, a cosmic storm is building and, by all the gods alive and dead, the air is whipped and ripped by thresh and flail as a raucous ruckus propels us from the past to the present and the pillars of Heaven tremble precariously on their plinths. The culprit is, of course, marauding Mars as he thrusts his rude bit into dark Pluto and then rages in his own addlepate sign, that of Aries the Ram! Thus you give up all pretence at being interested in high-minded matters and throw yourself into the ancient art of spending money as fast as you can. And then, as a New Moon comes in cloddish Taurus, you go into business to make more money so you can spend more money. You purchase the controlling shareholding in a media outlet run by a group of eleven year olds from Leipzig that hires virtual bus conductors to save public transport companies the cost of paying wages to real persons. Jolly god job too! Being real is no recommendation of anything!
You suddenly become fantastically wealthy and move to a larger home, just as the great Sol Invicti rolls drunkenly into wittering Gemini. However, the bus conductors of the world unite against you, protesting loudly at their loss of livelihood in the middle of the night outside the electronic gates of your new mansion. As you hate being kept awake, you sell the company for a fortune and set to writing a self-help book about taking control of one's life (snigger), inspired by the concupiscent relations between jolly Jupiter and cranky Chiron. No doubt it will be the great comedy hit of jaded June. Why don't you click here next month and see! Ave, little wretches!
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