Great gods alive and dead, it’s you, isn’t it, little addlepate archers! It must be time for your monthly dose of the vile and bitter prognostications, administered by the morbid medicine man, the doctor of doom and the alchemist of angst! Yes, my tiny nitwits, it is I! Asperitus, paragon of sublime irritation! Open wide to receive the dose!
Last month we left you in the clutches of a political separatist movement, crying ‘Corinth for the Corinthians’, yowling and gesticulating wildly with a group of swarthy foreigners who seem to be of that particular indigenous extraction. They carry rats upon their shoulders, wear scarlet cloaks and wave plastic swords about. It all seemed so exciting that you joined in (your usual reason for doing almost everything) and then swore an oath in blood of loyalty to Corinth.
So, what do the vile and bitter prognostications hold for awful August? Well, I’ll tell you. Mischievous Mercury clashes with idiot Uranus whilst jolly Jupiter wrestles with underworld Pluto and you become acquainted with the charter of Corinthian liberation. Firstly, your new chums want to attack the city of Athens and subjugate the people there as redress for the outrage of the Peloponnesian Wars. Secondly, they seek to restore the worship of the goddess Artemis to its rightful place of prominence in Corinthian society. This includes a revival of the festival of the slaying of the children of the oligarchs. Lastly, they wish to return the Corinthian epistles of Paul to the Roman Catholic Church because they have no place in the culture that worships Artemis and they’re also very boring and moralistic. The great Sol Invicti clashes with nasty Neptune and you reel with the wonder of it all. Vamping Venus enters neurotic Cancer and, knowing you’re filthy rich, they urge you to give money to the cause, to speed up the process of approval for your Corinthian citizenship.
By the time marauding Mars enters anal Virgo and mischievous Mercury turns retrograde in that same insufferable sign, you’re training in the ancient art of Corinthian sword-fighting and learning to speak their arcane tongue. At the New Moon in loathsome Leo, in a rite too foul to be described by my sensitive self (it involves the rats), you’re naturalized as a citizen of Corinth and made second-in-command in the Corinthian People’s Front. Concupiscent planets rut in the gutters of Heaven whilst you and your comrades perform a series of daring raids on Athenian wine shops, stealing many an amphora of that poisonous battery acid they drink and proceed to get utterly plastered to celebrate your victory. Mischievous Mercury re-enters Leo and you find that, even though you’re soused, you still burble drunkenly in the tongue of Corinth.
As the great Sol Invicti clashes with idiot Uranus, your comrades elevate you to the status of commander of the Popular Front of Corinth to add to the honours they’ve already bestowed. Great gods alive and dead, this is too good to be true, my little centaur addlepates! You’re the successful leader of an insurrection movement and everybody likes you and thinks you’re brave! But, you know what they say about things that are too good to be true, tiny nitwits! They are! More of that later!
In the meantime, the Full Moon comes in tear-stained Pisces and you collapse onto your bed and dream the dreams of inebriation. Artemis and her wild hunters come to you across the bridge of Morphia and attend to every sexual need you ever knew you had as well as a few you didn’t know about. You fall sated into a dreamless sleep. But what’s this? Vamping Venus conjoins with sober Saturn in neurotic Cancer and your solar eighth house and a mystic figure hovers at your bedside, calling you to awaken and see the doom that lies before you. ‘I am the dream of death’ she cries. Goodness me! How upsetting! Oh well! You’ll have to click here next month and see what this is about, as I’m too exhausted to write anymore now. Ta! Ta!