What ho, darling boofheads! We left you last time disillusioned after a dismal sojourn with a creature of the genus 'ancient avuncular', a wrinkled old bird that was impecunious, stingy and also abstemious in all his habits but that of cynical manipulation. You came off second best and will now be hoping for some improvement in your wretched lot. However, you're doomed to be disappointed in this, as in all other of your pathetic and futile expectations.
This is latter is due to the fact that you have snivelling Pisces on the cusp of your solar eleventh house. Thus, all your friends are liars, drug addicts and gamblers and all your hopes and dreams are unrealistic, fanciful or misdirected. Whatever success you have will be due to blind luck or charity. Drag out your ghastly handkerchief and weep until the loathsome rag rings wet with salty tears, my grossly necked wrong-headed nitwits. It is I, Asperitus, awe-inspiring advocate of the awful! I have come to tell you that all is set to go from bad to worse, in the classical pattern of that fiasco we have come to know as modern life, which is an appalling thing to be avoided at all costs. I have read the cheese (tiromancy) and the ash (tephromancy) and thus have prepared the draught of brackish and foul-tasting liquor that we call prognostication of a vile and bitter sort. Drink deep, loony lovelies! For tomorrow we go madder than we are this day! Eek!
The month of awful August begins, bringing mischievous Mercury to lackwit Leo. Thus, you wander in your domicile, moving things around and talking to yourself about what a mighty creature you are and moaning about how no one appreciates you, especially your nasty family and sodding stingy relatives. As the great Sol Invicti then delivers a quickie to cranky Chiron, you briefly consider running for parliament or becoming an Abba impersonator.
But what's this? Great gods alive and dead, it's the bash and crash of marauding Mars as he farts his way from your loathsome sign into that of nitwit Gemini. Thus you put your 'I will fight you for food' T-shirt into the wash and get the 'I will fight you for money' T-shirt out of the drawer and put it on. You sally forth into the streets. But, as jolly Jupiter moves forward in silly Sagittarius, you opt to indulge yourself, drawing a vast cash advance on the credit card and spending it on sex, spicy food and buying a Hungarian phrase book that includes such gems as 'is this a toilet or a bus stop?' and 'can you direct me to Budapest'. As vamping Venus advances to the rear (eek) in lackwit Leo, you then decide to redecorate the house, as you're tired of the packing case furniture you bought to make yourself look poor when you thought a 'rich' relative was visiting. As a New Moon comes in the loathsome leonine sign, you fill your home with heavy-legged lumpish chairs, couches and cabinets, all made in that 'décor for the dense' style you favour. Bullish Manse! Where furniture movers fear to lift!
As ghastly planets too tedious to name fart in aspects to nasty to recount, you wander in your home, lifting heavy objects with your muscular neck whilst idly musing upon what you're going to do when you grow up. You are disagreeable with everyone you meet, which is, of course, no one, as your family hates you and you don't have friends. As mischievous Mercury slithers into vexatious Virgo, you begin to walk in among the various items of clunky furniture, planning a track for the model railway you've always wanted but were to stingy to buy. However, as marauding Mars rams his rudest bit into jolly Jupiter's nether regions, you now lash out with a purchase of unparalleled extravagance, buying the full kit and caboodle of the model train, complete with bridges, tunnels, figures on stations and, most especially, Bucky the engine-driver and his best friend, Sparks, the fireman. You also pay for sex and buy masses of foreign food.
Then, by my sainted aunt, past generations of engineers and navvies rise up in your jaded spirit to lay the tracks and, verily, as in days of yore, build the towns and villages of Steam & Thunder, a mighty railroad from a long gone past. No sooner do you turn the switch than you are entranced, held tight by the glamour of this magic model kingdom. You have blissful sunny days of locomotive bliss and testy days of shunting and smutty railway talk. And, there are cloudy days as well where you have avalanches, track repair emergences and, last but not least, the dynamiting of a bridge to stage a daring robbery, prevented at the last moment by the resourceful courage of Bucky and his plucky sidekick, Sparks the fireman.
Great barking bandicoots, my little clods! Do you understand what is happening? The spell cast by your train and daring-do driver are seducing you into a world of fantasy, largely because your real life is such a wretched and meaningless sham. But, ye gods and little fishes, I fear it's already too late to prevent your plunge into lunacy and tragic isolation. For now comes a Full Moon, bringing a Lunar Eclipse in tear-stained Pisces and you decide only the railway and the railway people will be your friends. All other human contact do you eschew. For you are Bucky and the 2.40 must get through to Bovine Town. C'mon, Sparks! Let's have some more of your hot little shovel!
Gods, I'm ill with ennui and must desist. If you've a mind to read any more of this drivel, kindly click here next time. For the nonce, ave and choo choo, my little boofheads! And don't get lost in the long dark tunnel!