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Your astrological week ahead, with Psychic Bob

Gemini (21 MAY-20 JUN)
Financial disaster as your website rating MPs by their sexiness is hit with several thousand lawsuits for vomit damage.

Cancer (21 JUN-22 JUL)
Ah, I see, so you’re a left-brained kind of person, is that right? And there was me thinking that you were just a clumsy twat that keeps chipping bricks out of my garden wall with your Land Rover.

Leo (23 JUL-22 AUG)
If you’re sick of people constantly stealing your jokes, now might be the time to stop coming up with the first, blatantly obvious punchline that staggers drunkenly into that echo chamber of a head of yours.

Virgo (23 AUG-22 SEP)
Some people call me the space cowboy, some call me the gangster of love. Some people call me Maurice but generally speaking they call me that fat bloke that was even worse than The Spin Doctors. Bit harsh.

Libra (23 SEP-23 OCT)
Thank god they made a sequel. How on earth did they think they could cover all the character nuances of a Kung Fu Panda in one 90 minute film? Crazy, just crazy.

Scorpio (24 OCT-21 NOV)
You’ve been unusually cheerful recently. So I was just wondering if you had realised that Jack Whitehall has, and will continue to have, a more successful career than you could ever dream of having?

Sagittarius 22 (NOV-21 DEC)
As your hangover enters its third day, you’ve gone past the vomiting, headaches and shivers and seriously start considering building an enormous wall to wail against.

Capricorn (22 DEC-19 JAN)
Blind dates seldom go well but you set a new low this week when yours is eventually strapped into a trolley in the back of an ambulance screaming to have their eyes gouged out with a spoon.

Aquarius (20 JAN-19 FEB)
After being passed over for a pay rise for three years in a row, this week you furiously march into your boss’s office and list all the qualities you bring to the workplace. This has the unfortunate side-effect of reminding him you still work there and he fires you on the spot.

Pisces (20 FEB-20 MAR)
My bowl of spaghetti hoops formed into the shapes of Libra, Saturn and a ball-pein hammer. I’d cancel your hitch-hiking trip if I were you.

Aries (21 MAR-19 APR)
A disappointing result as your Olympics tickets arrive and it turns out you spent £200 to watch the urine tests for the three-day eventing.

Taurus (20 APRIL – 20 MAY)
This Friday, you’re really hungry so decide to go out for an Italian but unfortunately you’re arrested after being caught stuffing him into the boot of your car.

 

 

Nobel laureates discuss the last time they puked

A PANEL of Nobel laureates have discussed their most recent vomiting experiences before an enraptured audience at the Cheltenham Literature Festival.

The pair were joined by fellow laureates Sir Paul Nurse and JMG Le Clezio at a packed festival arena for a session entitled, ‘The Last Time I Was Sick’.

Author Naipaul, whose multi-award winning works include A Bend in the River, ascribed his last bout of physical sickness to a service station sausage roll.

He said: “It wasn’t a Ginster’s one, rather it was from the heated glass cabinet. I remember it was nearly three quid, and I wasn’t even that hungry but was late back from a book signing and knew I was going to miss my tea.

“I got as far as Chichester before I pulled over and hurled into a ditch. I was on my hand and knees.”

The panel nodded empathetically with Le Clezio adding that it is hard to tell how long sausage rolls and pies have been sitting around for, if they are not in a packet with a best before date.

Sir Paul Nurse, geneticist and President of the Royal Society, said: “Last year I got a stomach bug off one of my kids. It was coming out of both ends, full on, for 48 hours.

“It’s something of a cliched comparison but honestly, it was like something out of The Exorcist.

“When you get something like that, it’s as rank as you can feel without actually dying.”

ElBaradei, former head of the International Atomic Energy Agency, said he could not remember the last time he was properly sick, adding: “Last month in Cairo I drank a can of Sunkist very quickly, and when I did a burp some sick came in my mouth, but then it went back down.

“But I haven’t actually thrown up since I was a kid, which is mad when you think about it.”

He added: “Apparently at the last Hay Festival Paul Theroux got really drunk and puked out of a window right onto Alain de Botton’s big baldy head. I wish I’d seen that.”

 

 

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