Great giggling gargoyles and dribbling deities! It's you, my slavish centaurs! It seems I must address you on the matter of your nasty fate! It being 'that' time of the month again as it were, i.e. awful April, give or take a few days. And, generally, it's 'take' as I tend to oversleep, largely from sheer disinterest in almost everything, apart from the sound of my own voice and even that I find tedious in the extreme, so you can imagine how I feel about the rest of the world.
Anyway, all pleasantries aside, it's time for a dose of vile and bitter prognostication. Open wide your garish gobs and you will receive it. Last time, we were continuing a story called 'why the long face, Inspector Horse' which, despite being only three or so episodes old, seems interminably dreary and unspeakably long. Or was that the other way round! Neither here nor there really! As I recall it (and it's to my undying shame that I do), you had hit on the notion that you would have a secret identity, being Mr, Mrs or Ms E. Quine, ordinary person by day and Horse of the Yard, crime fighter by night. Thus, before I lose consciousness in face of screaming and terminal ennui, I had best continue with the tale.
Lugubrious Saturn creaks and groans into forward motion and you enroll in night classes on forensic science. You go to the library to study the annals of law enforcement. You send away for mail order courses called 'CATCH THAT CRIM', 'THE GAME'S UP, BURGLAR BILL' and 'DETECTION: IS IT FOR REAL?' and other such scintillating titles.
As vamping Venus slithers lasciviously into tear-stained Pisces, you hire a housekeeper to provide you with food, domestic hygiene and sexual favours. Marauding Mars clashes with dark Pluto, underworld god, and you study the Japanese martial art of Origami, learning to fold your enemies in half in several easy motions.
But what's this? By my sainted aunt, it's tragedy in the making! That's what it is! The Full Moon comes in lackwit Libra whilst mischievous Mercury clashes with dark Pluto and you return from an Origami class only to discover that your landlord and housekeeper are having an affair. Eek! As marauding Mars enters neurotic Cancer and then assails the sexual organs of mischievous Mercury, the three of you have a screaming row that ends in a brawl! When you try to fold them in half, they gang up on you (both of them), throw you into the street and hurl your meagre collection of belongings right after you. Oedipus Rex the wonder dog is also expelled into the street to sit at your side in the gutter and slobber on your collar. Let it be noted that this beast did nothing to protect you in the affray! Hmm! This bodes not well for the encounters with the felonious, the dastardly and the devious that you anticipate as your future employ.
Thus, penniless, dishevelled, bathed in canine saliva and homeless, you wander the streets in search of gainful employment as the great Sol Invicti grinds his way into cloddish Taurus. Finally, with the New Moon in that same unspeakable sign of the Bull, you're offered a post as a lamplighter in an unsavoury district. Bed and board come with the job but you're forced to provide sexual services for an extremely ugly employer. However, as you're allowed to turn the lamp out first, you accept, grateful for a pittance and shelter as jolly Jupiter still cavorts like an urchin in gloomy Scorpio and your solar twelfth house, filling your days with cosmic flatulence that reeks of depression and despair.
Suffering under the weight of this burdensome gloom, it's only a titillating tale of criminal justice entitled 'THE GAME'S UP, BURGLAR BILL' that brings a ray of sunshine to the otherwise cloudy days of your life. Ah well! How sad! Never mind! Perhaps matters will improve in the month of malodorous May. And perhaps they won't! Click here next time and see, idiot types. For the nonce, ave!