Great elephants and farting camels, it's you, my dastardly insectoids and heinous rulers of the anus! Last time we left, you had resigned your post as Dr. Caligari, master mesmerist, celebrity torturer and advocate for Satan. Gathering the dwindling remnants of your fortune and shattered sensibilities, you set yourself to travel to distant climes and begin a new life of peace and tranquillity, far from the madness of implacable evil, scalpels and the blood of innocents!
Thus, we take out the travel brochures that come with this month's (fractious February) dose of vile and bitter prognostications and, in doing so, seek to descry your ultimate destination. But what's this? By my sainted aunt! It's grim from the outset. Eek! Egad! Gadzooks! And other quaint expressions to indicate surprise and alarm! Mischievous Mercury and narcotic Neptune lasciviously conjoin to assail the nether regions of jolly Jupiter and we find you still at home, shaken by the ghastly presence of cranky Chiron in Aquarius, sign of the idiot god. It appears you're unable to decide what to do or where to go! You're reduced to wittering imbecilic indecision, like any tear-stained Piscean wretch! Your friends come to visit (both of them), but you drive them instanter back into the street with the ghastly look of angst-ridden torment you have on your face.
Marauding Mars returns to his retrograde point and angry males throw stones from the pavement, chanting 'die, Scorpio, die', increasing your torment. Siblings and assorted strangers join in the fun, increasing the flow of abuse from trickle to torrent. At last, you're spurred to action. A Full Moon comes in lackwit Leo and mischievous Mercury (slithering along in Pisces) makes gruesome congress with Uranus, the idiot god and god of idiots. Thus you decide to flee to Norway, purchase a houseboat and travel the rivers and fjords to study the mysterious blackthorn bush, an odyssey that's written in the stars with jolly Jupiter in your revolting sign.
But what's this? Great Caesar's ghost! It's another distressing dilemma! Unseasonal cold has frozen the waterways, leaving you stranded on sheets of ice, going nowhere and struggling to descry even one mighty pine beneath the frozen mask of this barren landscape, let alone a diminutive thorn bush. Predictably, this impasse is due to the machinations of cranky Chiron and miserable Saturn whose odious congress in the Heavens is beyond description for the sane or the sensitive. Marauding Mars clatters into addlepate Gemini and you pay young persons of either sex for erotic services so as to fill in the time until the ice breaks.
But nothing seems to satisfy you at the moment, does it, my insatiable little deviants. It's as if you're numb from the trail of horrors you have pursued. As the great Sol Invicti slides into damp and wretched Pisces, you pay a demolition expert to blow the ice apart and also have intercourse at the crucially explosive moment! Kaboom! At last, you're deeply moved by something as the accumulated leaden feeling from your time as Caligari and satanic servant ebbs away. Mischievous Mercury clashes with dark Pluto, underworld god, and you cast a weary eye across the diminishing figures in your dwindling bank account then look up at the passing embankment. Like a vision that invigorates your jaundiced spirit, you espy a blackthorn bush that, as the New Moon comes in snivelling Pisces, seems to glow with spectral light and summon you on a mysterious and thorny odyssey.
Will you, like Parsifal, Galahad, Erik the Pink and all the other ancient heroes, heed the call, my fiendish little articles? Will you shake off the ennui of your own cruel and remorseless nature to find your spirit in amongst the living world of nature? Click here next time and see. In the meantime, ave atque vale, odious arachnids!