My darling types with horsy bits! You know that it's my job to annoy you! So, I have deigned to come down from my tree and do so, proving my bite is definitely worse than my bark, contrary to popular thinking (if there such a thing, which I doubt). So, here I am, my tiny twits, annoying you already and we've only just begun, as that thin girl sang back in the sixties. So much annoyance to come yet so little time to be annoying! Ah well! We'd shall make the best of it while I can still be bothered staying awake. Not that I'd want you to think that I am uninterested in your fate! I follow it closely, in between bouts of semi-consciousness and unconsciousness.
Anyway, that's enough of that! Let's have some of this instead, 'this' being prognostications of a vile and bitter kind for manic March. Lay on, MacDuff! And damned be he that first cries 'hold, enough!' Now! To the inevitable recap due to the lateness of the forecast, or the hindcast, as it has come to be known! The month began as grim Saturn groped narcotic Neptune and there were delays with communications, contretemps in traffic and tedious conversations with elderly persons encountered by chance in the streets.
The Full Moon then blazed in vexatious Virgo, bringing a Lunar Eclipse to your solar tenth house, causing you to become disillusioned about your professional accomplishments (snigger). A critical female spoke nastily to you and then ran away before you could hit her so you spent the rest of the day counting paper clips or colouring in the vowels on old letters rather than working. As the great Sol Invicti cavorted obscenely with Uranus, idiot god, you caused a row with your family and broke something containing fluids or left a window open for the rain to come in. Then it was that mischievous Mercury moved forward, reminding you of the story thus far, i.e. that you had been on a bus to your heart's desire, but the trip proved to be another grand journey gone wrong and ended in an automotive contretemps with a busload of Swedish tourists and your family in an ill mood.
Egad, tiny tykes! What will happen as you whisk your way into the future, my little egg whites in the mixing bowl of life? Drink the vile draught and so discover! We look to the Heavens and there's nought but the farting of ghastly planets too tedious to name cavorting in aspects too hideous to recount. Narcotic Neptune, grim Saturn and jolly Jupiter are chief amongst them though vamping Venus does make her lustful presence felt, displaying her private parts in an unseemly fashion (is there any other way, one wonders). The aforementioned crowd (post crash) wanders aimlessly in fractious confusion. Finally a beefy Swedish fellow approaches you, as marauding Mars cranks his shaft into cranky Chiron. You think that fisticuffs may ensue but in fact the fellow thanks you for providing some entertainment (via the bus crash and your odious family) on what was otherwise a very dull tour. He tells you he is tired of all the Abba business, the platform shoes in particular, and suggests you go into business together, organizing dangerous bus tours replete with crashes and ill-tempered yokels.
After hammering out the work and fiscal arrangements as vamping Venus slithers into cloth-eared Taurus, you agree. As mischievous Mercury returns to aggravating Pisces and the New Moon brings a Solar Eclipse in that same tear-stained sign, you tell your family what you're doing, bid them farewell then set off with your beefy buddy from the land of blondes, tennis and bloody murders in snowbound villages, Sweden. You fly off to a Mediterranean Isle that is long on bus tours but short on safety legislation. Oddly, it seems your bus ride has led you to Shangri-La, despite all indications to the contrary.
As the great Sol Invicti clatters into addlepate Aries, you set up Automotive Incident Tours, travel for the bored and daring! Hola, my dangerous types with horse bits! You can enjoy a wonderful new chapter in your gleeful life. After all, you're only encouraging tourists to pay money to board vehicles that get wrecked. What could possibly go wrong?
As marauding Mars thrusts his rude bit into the nether regions of narcotic Neptune, you go through the usual run of lying, cheating and bribing to get the business operational with licences, certificates, approvals and such. You also enjoy illicit sexual activity behind closed doors and on office desks with strange clerks and lowly assistants. This comes as vamping Venus does the dance of love with cranky Chiron. All seems to be going well, my posturing twerps until a startling communication comes from your family at home.
Great gods alive and dead, what can it be? Do we dare look? Hmm! As the two brain cells I devoted to studying your fate (generous, really) are exhausted (from boredom mainly) and want to go to bed, I shall leave the story for the nonce. Do click here next time to discover the shocking news your family has in store. Ave, my centaur twits!