Horoscopes for the week commencing Friday 27th January 2006.
There is a 23% chance that it’s your birthday this week.
The superior conjunction of Mercury will be less significant to you than the large cash prize in a competition which you forget to enter.
You will waste a lot of time and paper finding out that your incomplete mastery of the Japanese art of origami is powerless to help you escape after getting locked in a paper factory.
You know that little secret you’re keeping from your best friend? So do I. Isn’t astrology great?
An unconventional and unplanned experiment with a chubby friend and a balcony proves somewhat painfully that differently-sized objects fall at the same speed.
Your attempt to change your star sign to something less ominous by claiming to the International Astronomical Union that the constellation looks more like a teddy bear than a crab will end in failure when they rename it Ebola, the tropical hæmorrhagic fever.
You will wish you’d taken up a career more profitable than writing horoscopes when the bailiffs finally catch up with you about that whole ‘interest free credit’ thing, which, ironically, you paid 0% of. All donations welcome.
You will discover that specificity is all after asking for a pizza with “everything” on it. If it won’t fit through the door, the know-all capitalist bastards will charge extra for crane hire.
You find out just how good coffee is at helping you stay up all night after spilling a fresh, hot cup all over your lap and spending the early hours in a burns unit. You will be in too much agony to notice the irony that only last week it was Burns’ Night.
If you are a whale, this is not a good week to swim up a busy major river to a capital city. The media’s sea-creature-interest story quota has been filled, so you won’t even die famous.
Your astrologically-minded friends might call you a sad-git-tarius because you’re going to be in all week working. Sadly for your love of puns, you don’t have any astrologically-minded friends. Luckily, I’ve pointed the wordplay out to you. No, I don’t want to be your friend.
Don’t forget to look left and right and up and down when crossing the road, or your life-long neglect of the third spatial dimension will catch up with you.