Your astrological week ahead for March 29th, with Psychic Bob

Aries, March 21st–April 19th

How do you solve a problem like Maria? ADHD meds.

Taurus, April 20th–May 20th

Announcement for artists planning to paint a picture of spring blossom: don’t bother. It’s been done.

Gemini, May 21st–June 21st

I don’t know much about this Assisted Dying Bill but he doesn’t sound like a nice bloke.

Cancer, June 22nd–July 22nd

Multiple criminals have escaped justice by saying that they want their final meal to be a large Toblerone purchased from a ferry leaving British waters.

Leo, July 23rd–August 22nd

“I’m out of here for the weekend, if you need me, just ring 999.”

Virgo, August 23rd–September 22nd

Watching Adolescence with your son to share a cross-generational learning experience, you nudge him and say ‘That’s Asher D. From So Solid Crew.’

Libra, September 23rd–October 22nd

For sale: Chekhov’s gun, never used.

Scorpio, October 23rd–November 22nd

Ofwat? No, I’m afraid I work for Oftwat. And you’ve fallen under our purview.

Sagittarius, November 22nd–December 21st

This clock design is timeless. Which is to say f**king useless.

Capricorn, December 22nd–January 19th

Daffodils out and about at last. Never see the idle f**kers putting a shift in any other time of year, do you?

Aquarius, January 20th–February 18th

In the sequel to 1984, there’s a Little Brother who kicks Winston Smith’s shins.

Pisces, February 19th–March 20th

“Come on, man, you believe life has any meaning or value whatsoever? Be nihilistic.”

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The Archbishop of Canterbury on… Marjorie Taylor Greene, mad as a bag of racists

WAKING up with a hangover whose energy, if harnessed, could provide light and electricity for a small Scottish village for six months, I reflect on the past few days and my most recent holy initiative. 

Appalled at the government’s plans for benefit cuts, as opposed to taxing the super-rich, I issue a press statement in which I vow that unless these cuts are reversed, I shall henceforth appear in public attired only in my mitre, staff and socks. Otherwise, naked.

There is a certain amount of scoffing at this protest but I am as good as my word. Myself fully exposed is a purple and not at all pretty sight. The BBC tries to suppress footage of me conducting mass in the nuddie at Westminster Abbey but it goes viral nonetheless. 

Within days the government is in contact, alarmed at the gross breach of decorum, and also, they admit, suffering crippling feelings of nausea. They will reverse the cuts and impose a wealth tax, so long as I agree to wear pants again. 

I may or may not accede. It has been a bracing experience, marred only by parishioners leaving the Abbey doors open, creating a draught which forces me to gently chastise them with the words: ‘Shut that fucking door, the fucking wind went right up my fucking sphincter!’

Otherwise satisfied, I take a light breakfast and peruse a periodical. Therein, I read that US representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, questioned by a Sky News reporter about the leaked war plans scandal, replied: ‘Which country are you from? The UK? Okay, we don’t give a crap about your opinion and your reporting. Why don’t you go back to your country? What about all the women in the UK being raped by migrants?’

Slap my cock on a garden table and focus a magnifying glass on it this sunny day, how the fuck did someone as mad as a bag of bats/cats/frogs get to be ‘representative’ of anyone or anything? All you fucking represent is America losing its collective mind and collapsing into a sea of fucking fascism! You’re basically the woman who goes viral on Twitter thanks to footage of you screeching at a traffic warden and throwing your shoes at him after getting a parking ticket! As for telling people to ‘go back’ – everyone’s fucking delighted to leave America while hatstanders like you are running rampant!

Harry Redknapp, former manager of most football teams, has been recorded at an event describing current England manager Thomas Tuchel as a ‘German spy’ and following up his remarks by delivering a Nazi salute.

Well, the rise of the far-right has been a fucking boon for you, hasn’t it? Normally this would have seen you buried alive in the same tomb as fucking Ron Atkinson, but this is 2025, so it’s a career opportunity. Harry Redknapp, the only man brave enough to Sieg Heil it like it fucking is! Your fucking moron generation can’t die out fast enough, you desperately ugly piece of fuck! 

Darren Jones, chief secretary to the Treasury, came under fire after he compared the government’s welfare squeeze to cutting his children’s pocket money by £10 per week but urging them to get a Saturday job.

Jesus H Cunt, you desperate, chinless fucking wonk, who’s almost certainly never had an actual job in their wonky fucking lives, have you any idea how this sort of liquefied dogshit sounds when you blurt it out? It’s patronising, fatuous shite like this that makes it more likely Farage will win the next election. Actually forget Farage, let’s go full twat and have Harry Redknapp as the next fucking PM!

Finally, Donald Trump has been musing on the subject of autism. ‘Something happened,’ he said. ‘If you go back 20 years, autism, think of it – one in 20,000 children. Think of that. You see it all over. One in 20,000 children. Now, it’s one in 36 children. Now, what the hell is that all about? There’s something out there and we’ve gotta find it.’

Fuck my tethered goat, you know what? Leaving aside the fact that you’ve pulled those stats out of your disgusting orange arse and you can’t distinguish between an epidemic and improved diagnosis, I’m kind of glad the incontinent organ that passes for your brain is churning out stuff like this. Because you could be doing much worse things with it, like making actual plans to annex Canada! Just keep burbling away, day in, day out, and maybe we’ll see the end of the dark age of your presidency as it fizzles out due to your endless, pointless fucking brain farts!