Sun Sign Horoscopage 23rd—29th November, 2009

After last week’s carpet incident, Venus starts Monday with the hump. Jupiter, who is making Brian Blessed seem retiring and softly-spoken these days,  goes in for a feel-better bearhug. Venus wallops him over the head with her hardback first edition of How To Win Friends and Influence People, which bounces off the big god’s thick skull and lands at Mercury’s feet.

Ever open to new methods of making connections, Mercury picks it up for a flick through. Neptune and Saturn read over his shoulders. Tuesday finds Saturn woodenly trying out Carnegie’s techniques on the Sun, who, feeling tip-top full of bonhomie and having nothing else to do, puts up with it for a bit.

By Thursday the others are fed up with Mercury having his nose in the book that they dare him to try to Win Mars’ Friendship and Influence Him. It’s been so long since anyone even knocked on the god of war’s bedroom door that it seems to go well, although this might have more to do with the bag of gingerbread men Mercury wisely took in with him. A concentrated biting-off of biscuit heads could be seen as harmony, I suppose.

Anyway, Uranus and Venus at least are too busy researching tickle spots to pay much attention. Neptune staggers over to help investigate the causal relationships among variables, but Venus asks him to go away and have a bath. A long one.

Mercury and Jupiter end the week by getting up to no good and having a right laugh.

*

Aries

When your troops tramp tramp tramp across new borders this week, remember to send them with fun size Mars bars to throw to the children. Why? Because it’s a nice thing to do, and when your actions compromise others’ future freedom and essential liberty, it’s nice to be nice.

Taurus

Do something known and loved in a whole different way* on Thursday and you’ll sleepwalk into the side of a bus on Friday morning. Still, not all bad: while they put you back together again the anaesthetic gives you time to catch up sleep, and it’s a known fact that there isn’t a single unattractive anaesthetist on the planet.

*For Thanksgiving-ing Taureans this probably means a new way with stuffing; the rest of the world’s bulls will want to be swapping the with with an of.

Gemini

While sorting stuff out for Sagittarius this week, I discovered that Green Eggs and Ham was written because Dr Seuss was bet $50 that he couldn’t write a book with only fifty different words. With thought, Gemini, I bet on Thursday, like Dr Seuss you can get your point across to partners in fifty words. It doesn’t matter what I bet because none of you will manage it … but I bet you could. Hand gestures are not included in the final count.

Cancer

Miss. Miss Miss Miss. Miss Miss MissMissMissMissMiss … I made Bethlehem in the bath … with ducks.

This week is perfect for expanding religious consciousness. Perfect for creatively contemplating new concepts of divine deliverance. Perfect for communicating your intuitive, individual experience of creation. Take a tip from the six-year-old, Cancer — it’s a dead good week for making Bethlehem in your bath. With ducks.

Leo

You can spout any old self-absorbed shite on Thursday and they’ll lap it up. You might even pull. Thankfully,  an enemy shoves a dog poo through your letter box on Friday.

Virgo

Go through your CDs, pull your iPod apart, and play every single track you have of a fat lady singing. Every one. She’s got a great pair of lungs. Before Thursday, you also need to decide what sort of relationship you want with your neighbour, or they’ll decide for you and you’ll be too drunk to care.

Libra

Early in the week someone twiddles the balance thingy in the middle of your kitchen scales, just ‘cos. This results in you accidentally inventing a new, super-rising scone, which feeds humanity and solves world hunger. Next, you must work on improving the logistics of jam and clotted cream transportation.

Scorpio

This week, Scorpio, Sagittarius is telling everyone how he likes it in the dark with a goat. Don’t get jealous, get even.

Sagittarius

Get scribbling, Dr Zeus, it’s time for your annual opus:

I am man.
Man-I-am.
Man-I-am, Man-I-am.
I do so like life. Man-I-am.

And I will like life in a boat
And I will like it with a goat.
And I will like it in the rain.
And in the dark. And on a train.
And in a car. And in a tree.
It is so good, so good you see.

So I will like life in a box.
And I will like it with a fox.
And I will like life in a house.
And I will like it with a mouse.
And I will like it here and there.
Say. I will like life ANYWHERE.

Happy Birthday.

Capricorn

Past choices you’d made about money making methods affect your social interactions this week. Test out your technique before you mingle:

Q: And what do you do, Capricorn?
A: I slaughter innocent people to harvest their fat for beauty creams for the European market.

Hmm. It needs a little work before you can be voted onto the board of school governors — you could always try the golf club.

Aquarius

I’ve been staring at this week’s chart for ages, and it still all looks like Space Invaders for you. Who am I to argue? Keep your head down. Move smoothly and slowly with no sudden movements, but keep moving. Stay on the person-side of the screen — the one without pixels. If anyone comes at you with a space bar or a joystick, run.

Pisces

You’re rolling bogies between your fingers this week, Pisces, while all around you colleagues are discussing what it is to be an adult. You could tell them that it’s about being responsible for your actions; about learning from experience and moving on; about keeping a sense of compassion without allowing yourself to be walked over. Well, you could if you weren’t too busy trying to flick that  green, squidgy monster without it sticking to the end of your fingernail.

*

Sun Sign Horoscopage 16th-22nd November 09

Mercury wakes everyone on Monday by hollering  My Way. The Sun is the only one close enough to grab the karaoke machine and cut off the plug. The Moon sets off for a brand new adventure, but forgets his bus pass and gets all moody.

Mercury’s still humming on Tuesday, which attracts Saturn. The Lord of Time and the Mischief Maker become all tangled up in discussing whether it was the Ol’ or the Blue Eyes bit which got Frank all the women.

On Thursday, Venus tries out her counselling skills on Mars, who’s been rather withdrawn lately. Mars uses short Anglo Saxon words and simple gestures to ask her to please leave him alone if she wouldn’t mind awfully, he’s playing Modern Warfare 2. Thanks terribly.

Venus has got the psychology bug though, and tries it on with both Saturn and Pluto at the weekend. They roll her up in a carpet and put her in the hall cupboard with the hoover and the ironing board. Peace.

The Sun wakes everyone on Sunday by hollering My Way …

*

This bit’s tricky. There’s a New Moon in Scorpio on Monday Evening (19:14 Universal Time–UT, as ever, which is conveniently also GMT). Now, usually a New Moon is the perfect time to take a breath and make a wish to carry you through the next four weeks. Thing is with this one, straight away after it happens the Moon goes Void of Course. This means that the Moon’s conjunction with the Sun—a New Moon—is the last aspect the Moon makes with a planet before it changes sign on Tuesday morning. Void of Course times are typically muddled and directionless. I don’t know how a wish of intent will work if it’s fired off into a void, so what to do?

I reckon that, instead of a wish for the future, Monday evening at a quarter past seven will be the perfect time to make a resolution. A resolution is a decision to take what we’ve done in the past and make it better; it’s a wish for better things in the future only by application of a bit of personal change, fuelled by wanting to be a bit better than we currently feel we are. Forget New Year, I hereby proclaim a New Moon which then goes Void of Course the perfect time not for a wish, but for looking back and resolving to never, ever do it again.

*

Aries

An argument started on Thursday, Aries, is the vehicle to finding new and stretchy ways of making up. For the less limber, seek out your local auction house on Saturday and be prepared to fight dirty for the Clarice Cliff ginger jar, even though the only thing genuine about it is the chip.

Taurus

Repeat after me: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10. Repeat as required. Stop pouting, they love you really.

(Oh yes, nearly forgot—wearing low rise trousers on Saturday will chill your kidneys, no matter how high your knickers.)

Gemini

On Monday, your ruling sign skips into Sagittarius and you find God. He’s sitting right where you left him last December. Do you remember? It was when you bought all those tins of Christmas Quality Street on BOGOF at Asda, and you couldn’t carry them and the all holy overseer of the universe. Honestly, you put down something for a second.  Some would say this is a challenge to generally accepted concepts of omnipresence, but I think it says more about your specs.

Cancer

Wups. I won’t tell. Monday evening is the best time to make yourself a promise to never, ever do that again — CCTV’s everywhere these days. Treat yourself to an optimistic new start on Tuesday, and I promise that if you manage to keep quiet about it until Sunday, nobody will ever find out. That noise is my forefinger tapping the side of my nose.

Leo

When you take your potential significant other to meet your mum on Thursday, she talks about that time you ran around naked, your chubby bum cheeks wibbling, and popped out just a little bit of poo as you went. Somehow she’ll make it sound charming. Pass her the chocolate hobnobs before she adds that it happened last month.

Virgo

You’ll feel calmer after a good tidy on Monday. Tidy your home, though, not your colleagues. They don’t all understand that a Virgo nitpicks and fusses not because they think they are right, but because they fear they are wrong*. Can you see the difference?  You need to do good things for yourself at the weekend, but keep away from comfort buying unless you have a forthright Aries friend to tell you just how very big your bum looks in that. When they do, give it a bit of a wiggle and say thank you.

*I’ll say this again in the future, probably many times. It’s important.

Libra

You alone make the trains run on time on Tuesday, Libra. If you don’t have overall responsibility for the national rail network, swallow a frog instead, it’ll slip down lovely. Talking of trains, though, some of you have been feeling as though you’re tied to the tracks in front of the 7:52 to Grimsby. However awful, overwhelming, unbalancing and flattening this feels, believe that it’s better than having a ticket for the 7:52 to Grimsby. Do something nice for no result on Saturday.

Scorpio

Copy this down and get straight out to Morrisons:

• knife (sharp)
• cockerel (black)
• chalice (silver, pewter at a push, plastic picnic glasses and silver spray paint, if everything else is out)
• pins (long)
• Barbie

You already have enough black candles and intent. Hurry up now, chop chop.

Sagittarius

Oh no, you’re going to be incorrigible. Smartarse is an acquired taste, Sagittarius, but you’re used to carrying on regardless, and this week public opinion matters to you less than ever. By ‘eck, your arse is smart.

Capricorn

Take the security guard off your wallet to buy a Pisces a pint after work. Then another. A scheme so profligate of expenditure is the means to a tasty end. You’ll regret it come Saturday, but hey, it’s nearly Christmas. Sort of.

Aquarius

It’s been a while since your cell received support from the outside. This has made cell meetings into cosy, even jolly occasions, which make you reconsider the current plan for overthrowing social order. Don’t worry—the thought of revolution still consumes you, body and soul—but there is absolutely no reason why this couldn’t be done with party poppers. Please don’t book the clown.

Pisces

It’s all about bladder control, so stay on shorts and sip slowly at the end of the week, Pisces. A Capricorn fancies him too. Start off on pints and she’ll have her tongue down his throat the second you pop out to shake the lettuce.

*

Sun sign horoscopage 9th—15th November, 2009

On Monday, Venus’s (Venus’?) recent revelation that black is the new black leads her to Pluto, who lends her his Nick Cave CDs and gives her tips on over-applying eyeliner. She sleeps in it, but Tuesday’s Moon assures her that the dead panda look is very Now. Meanwhile a bored Jupiter challenges the Sun to a Scalextric duel, with kinetic results.

Picking pieces of teeny 1966 Ford GT40 from the hair and nostrils, Mercury and Uranus spend Wednesday on their knees with superglue and a set of precision screwdrivers, souping up, super-charging, and making quiet vroom vroom noises under their breath.

Neptune steps on a forgotten exhaust pipe and swears enigmatically. Who else can swear enigmatically? Mercury tells him to sod off but stores the elusive obscenity for future use.

At the weekend the Sun suddenly realises what Neptune said and flushes his head down the loo, all grownup like. Uranus catches sight of Venus and chucks her the cotton wool balls, while Saturn quietly preaches the word of Gok to the lord of the underworld.

Meanwhile Mars sits alone, swaying slightly, listening to the voices. The voices that tell him how special he is, how brave, how bold, how splendid…

*

Aries

On Monday, your secret benefactor sets you up with lodgings, a plump bank account, and a position in the city. Tuesday sees you swanking* in new clothes with new friends. You find Wednesday’s rumour that your benefactor is a hardened convict with rough palms secretly arousing even as you press your cologned hanky to your nose. It all gets a bit hazy on Thursday. You come to at the end of the week, alone in a deserted house, in a musty wedding frock, with a rodent problem, clocks that won’t work, and one hell of a headache. You couldn’t make it up.

Taurus

Yes, you can have a pony. It’ll come in burger form with lettuce, pickles, and mayonnaise, but this is all about compromise, isn’t it. On Sunday you put your eye out in a bra-related incident.

Gemini

I’ve got things to do, Gemini, could I leave you to do the talking? Yup? Ta, I appreciate it. I’ll meet you back here this time, next week. Bring your scrapbook. What’s that? No, I don’t know my mobile number off the top of my head, sorry.

Cancer

Your week is warm sun, complimentary fizz, and oranges straight from the tree. It is mellow al fresco evenings with seafood pasta and a carafe of decent red. The weekend is Heathrow Terminal 2.

Leo

Use your talents this week, Leo — be bold, be beautiful, be oblivious. Those highlights take courage and that tan takes application. Push pineapple, shake the tree.

Virgo

Yes, those could be flowers; that could be sunshine. Yes, you can eat all the pies. Yes, the duster tickles; yes, the pinny becomes you. Yes, yours are dancing feet, and your heels click louder than your knees. Yes, it’s about bloody time. Yes.

Libra

It’s not as nice being nice as it once was, is it Libra. A smile should be a smile, not a strategy. When you saw your grimace in the mirror even you weren’t convinced. This is a bit of a worry. You can vent this new pressure with a well-stocked cellar — have a word with Aquarius’s boss about where to get supplies.

Scorpio

Growl and they’ll pat you on the head. Snarl and they’ll chuck you under the chin. Your well-crafted curse will bring ruffled hair and an awwww. Don’t let the sunshine get you down, bonny wee Scorpio, on the plus side you could get away with murder.

(Are those ribbons? They suit you.)

Sagittarius

Wednesday’s the day for dropping milieu, obverse, colossus, and frottage into conversation. Thursday finds you forgetting the word for … um … those tall, rough things, you know, with striggly bits under the ground and spraddled doo dahs up top, with the papery bits that drop off come Autumn. Birds like ‘em. You know the ones. Good luck with that second interview.

Capricorn

Build it, and they will ask if you have planning permission. The jobsworth buggers. Try bribery or blackmail.

Aquarius

Am I the last person to discover that finding a stripper pole in someone’s living room probably means they just like to keep fit? Twirling on a pole is, it turns out, toning, beneficially aerobic, and not at all seedily daft. Bear this in mind this week, Aquarius, when that load of butt plugs, love eggs, anal beads, nipple clamps, squirting dildos and three fork speculums tumbles out of the bottom drawer of your boss’s filing cabinet. He’s simply beginning a new fitness regime. Though it might be an idea to keep a spare fiver handy for his knicker elastic, just in case.

Pisces

God, you’re clingy. Drop that dependency rubbish, it’s sweaty and inconvenient in crowded lifts. Haven’t you yet realised that you don’t have to hang on to someone else to get through basic everyday life? If you want to be brave and independent, think of someone brave and independent and pretend to be them. Nobody does this better than you, Pisces—nobody—it’s what mutability is all about. However, there’s doing it well and doing it pants. Being the change you wish to see in the world does not involve wearing a bobbed ginger wig and fellating your flatmate’s boyfriend.

*That’s swanking, Aries. With an ess.

*

Look, no overglazed lemon/olive themed spoon rests. This itty bitty porcelain astrologer found me in Sorrento. He’s no bigger than the first knuckle joint of my forefinger, and is very, very clever.

*

Sun Sign Horoscopage: Out of Office Autoreply 26th October –8th November 2009

It’s all over the place for famiglia Distracted. I’m not packed, haven’t checked the flights, and the Euro exchange rate has my Capricorn 2^nd House Moon hiding under a cushion, whimpering something about nearly eight quid for a beer. To coax it out I’m having a double economy: two weeks in one, a phrase a day, below. Marc Edmund Jones has his head in his hands.

I predict I’ll be back as normal but very, very poor and wondering where to hide that hideous over-glazed cruet set daub-painted in a vomit splat of lemons and olives which seemed like such a good idea at the time, ah the memories, the weekend of 7th-8th November, to wreck your week beginning Monday 9th. Distractions allowing. Ciao.

Until then, below below, please help my 3^rd House Mercury in Aquarius do a last minute language-learning dash by reading your sign’s specially selected phrasebook life guidance. Grazie.

(Eight quid!)

*

Monday 26^th October — Uses of Webcams 101

Tuesday 27^th — More cakes for Elvis.

Wednesday 28^th — Not waving but drowning. Or drowning whilst waving? Try waving less and not-drowning more.

Thursday 29^th — Double-glazed roaring.

Friday 30^th —Ready, aim, knock and run.

Saturday 31^st — ^{Sellotape the letterbox, your treats are rubbish.}

Sunday 1st November—Fish, chips, and mushy peas on your shoulder. And a gherkin.

Moonday 2^nd —Big fat bull in a snit.

Marsday 3^rd —Talking ears off creates a homeless earring problem.

Mercuryday 4^th —You’ve lost it. Deny everything.

Jupiterday 5^th — The collective noun for bankers is ‘wunch’.

Venusday 6^th —Reverse parallel parking buggers hubcaps.

Saturnday 7^th —Alluding to the size of one’s penis by raising an eyebrow.

Sunday 8^th —Tilting at windfarms.

*

Aries

È un furto.

Taurus

Vorrei prenotare un tavolo per stasera?

Gemini

È la chiave sbagliata.

Cancer

Mi scusi, ho sbagliato camera.

Leo

Scusi, mi sono chiuso fuiri.

Virgo

Potrebbe cambiare la cerniera lampo?

Libra

I client sono pregati di lasciare libere le camera entro le ore 12 del giorno di partenza.

Scorpio

Chiudere bene dopo l’uso.

Sagittarius

Posso parlare con Dio, per favore?

Capricorn

Avete una stanza singola per una notte?

Aquarius

Qual èil suo numero di telefono?

Pisces

Le dispiace se apro la finestra?

*

Sun Sign Horoscopage 19th-25th October, 2009.

Everyone’s tucked up and snoozing this Monday. The Moon’s toenails graze the Jupiter’s shin, but the gas giant just turns over and carries on snoring and dreaming of Vegas, waking on Tuesday with a huge fart and a head full of comeback plans.

Needing a second opinion on rhinestone belt buckles, Jupiter nudges Mercury with his elbow until the tricksy one opens an eye. Their talk of tour buses and glory infects the Moon, who thinks big until Friday morning, when she hits a wall in her reasoning and realises the idea is pants.

Midweek, Venus’s ham ciabatta is too big for one. She shares it with Neptune until even he’s beaten, then puts it on the side to finish later. The Sun and Saturn scrape the plate and wash it up. Venus and Neptune — secretly sick of ham — are relieved. Phew! Big stuff this week, bet you’re on the edge of your seat.

On Friday, Mercury and Chiron go on and on with themselves for hours about how so and so hurt their feelings, and thingummy should have realised that they wanted the last cake even though they said it was fine, go on, take it, and have they heard about doofrey’s husband and his Thing, and blah de blah de bloody blah. It makes them feel a lot better. The Sun finds a dark and secret corner and sits, taking notes. Everyone else goes out for a curry.

Mars is too busy being glorious this week to wind anyone up. That makes a nice but terribly dull change.

**

Aries

They’re talking about you, Aries; your friends and your partner, swapping notes. It’s mostly good, apart from that bit about the hygienic clippers.

Taurus

Look at you, all curled up under those Autumn leaves — how do they smell? Spicy? Earthy? — Anyway, look at your little snuffle nose poking out, and your jet eye glittering through your prickles. Taurus, did you know that it takes more chloroform to put a hedgehog to sleep than any other animal of comparable size? A bowl of treacle pudding and custard, however, and a warm fire, and you’ll be zonked out in seconds.  When will people learn to treat you nice? You’re a stubborn bugger otherwise. An ounce of treacle pud is worth a bull’s dose of chloroform.

Gemini

Make the most of Tuesday’s big thinking about the big questions of life because Friday’s free will finds you chained to a rock while a giant eagle pecks out your liver. Remember your iphone —  if you practice being philosophical about it all in 140 characters or less #nicebirdy could be a trending topic.

Cancer

You’re evolving. You no longer have to spend all of your time in the middle of your web, waiting for the prey to drop by. You can get takeaway. Avoid seafood though, it’s family.

Leo

You’re busy doing nothing this week, Leo, trying to find lots of things not to do. What a blissed-out start to a few months of magnificence. Was that a purr?

Virgo

You do not have a pre-existing medical condition, you are a pre-existing medical condition. And you really carry it off.

Libra

Watch out for wasp bites this week, Libra. Not stings, but bites. Not half as unpleasant and completely avoidable if you stop dressing in purple and spraying yourself with essence of plum.

Scorpio

Before Friday:

Tools  → Delete Browsing History →

• Temporary Internet Files
• Cookies
• History

→ Delete → Confirm

Next, open or download Firefox:

Tools → Start Private Browsing → Would You Like To Start Private Browsing? → Start Private Browsing.

Happy birthday!

Sagittarius

Big week, big man, and your friends think you’re top. It’s only a tenner; I promise I’ll give it you back next week.

Capricorn

The devil’s in the detail this midweek, Columbo. A bit of ferreting around will reveal the perp, but remember, those who were watching from the beginning already know who it is. You could have just asked them. Oh, and one more thing … nice mac.

Aquarius

Did you know your traditional ruler also rules wasps? I didn’t know that. Put your mandibles away, Aquarius, I know you’re hungry and disorientated, but that’s not a nice, ripe Autumn plum, that’s a Libra.

Pisces

The Force will be with you this week, fishies. It won’t be pretty, but lightsabers cauterise, so at least you shouldn’t be needing a mop. Just a shovel, a big hole in the garden, and a strong alibi.

***

Sun Sign Horoscopage 12th—18th October, 2009

After a quiet weekend at home recovering from Friday’s marrowfat up the bum, the Moon leaves for work with dignity and just a bit of a limp. Is she to seriously believe that the person with the peashooter was given a Nobel Peace prize the very same day. Peace? She’ll show him peace.

A holler makes her jump. Mars is yelling at Saturn to hurry up, that concrete for Virgo’s extension foundations has got to be poured before the weather changes. Saturn brings along Venus to make the tea. She in turn brings chocolate Hob Nobs, and Mars doesn’t grumble.

Jupiter’s window is open, and their biscuit munching stirs him out of a long reverie. There were never chocolate Hob Nobs at Vegas … Vegas … now, where has he put that sequinned jump suit? It’s now or never. Virgo offers the biccy packet up at the window. The King defers. But that’s alright, mama, he’s in the building.

Libra’s having another open house this weekend. Those who can’t make it know someone who can, who has a camera on their phone for evidence. Venus turns up early to help out, brushing off crumbs. They’re good friends, so Libra passes the dyson with no hard feelings. The Sun’s there, having a lovely trine with Neptune on Saturday to make lovely dreams come true, and lovely wishes too, with a New Moon here on Sunday and everything’s lovely and the bunnies are fluffy and so are the pussycats and they don’t pee up the fireplace like mine does and everyone is holding hands and I think I’m feeling a bit sick now.

**

Oh yes, the New Moon in Libra on Sunday. Everyone tack on an addendum to screw up your eyes and make a wish at 05:33UT on the 18th. If you’re driving this works best if you pull over first. If you’re in the UK, work it into a dream. Libra, so make it a wish for harmony and all that stuff. Mind you, I’ve been royally shafted by Librans in the past, so perhaps a wish for a nice calfskin leather diplomatic bag to carry unchecked through customs.

**

Aries

What is it with you and Mondays right now? It’s not natural. This Monday, execute a meticulously planned invasion. Tuesday finds you with your pick of the maidens. Don’t let it go to your head at the end of the week: it might be a long and successful battle, but the war is epic and the first word of goose step is …

Taurus

On Tuesday, Taurus, resolve any sexual tensions through the medium of dance. Oh go on, it’ll be a laugh. A brisk game of rugger, then? With lots of shoulder slapping and songs about ladies from Bristol .

Gemini

Change the record, Gemini. Wednesday’s good. Perhaps by then you will have stopped wondering aloud why people still say ‘change the record’ when it should be ‘change the CD’, ‘Select Play List’, or even just ‘Shuffle’. Whatever, do the Hustle, Van McCoy.

Cancer

If it looks like a duck, waddles like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it’s a duck-looking, duck-walking, duck-sounding horse. You knew that, Cancer, the question is, can you get a saddle on it? For best results this week carry a bag of old bread and a packet of polo mints.

Leo

Yay … go you … pom poms … ‘n that … It’s your turn to iron this week, our Leo, and there’s a full basket, so I thought I’d give you a bit of a cheering squad there, to brighten you up. Just get it done; if you put it off to watch Gok reruns she’ll not be amused to find her black linen trousers squished and crumpled at the bottom when she needs them for her Friday meeting. Friday could be Saucy Friday, afterall, setting a trend to last you past Christmas. Raise a well-earned glass to your magnificence on Saturday.

Virgo

This is no week for scrimping. Go out and treat yourself to a big bottle of the pink washing-up liquid—the one that smells a bit like flowers. Squoosh it in as your sink fills up with bath-hot water. Plunge in your hands to the elbows, away you go. This week, Virgo, for the first time in a while you are Fairy Liquid Nanette Newman, not gone-wonky-at-a-Stepford-garden-party Nanette Newman. Rejoice.

Libra

Someone comes in for a sliding tackle, leaving you feeling unbalanced and graceless (that’s Libra language for ‘sending you arse over tit’). Their jumpers are the goalposts, but don’t let them manipulate you. Ultimately, Libra, it’s your ball.

Goal!

Scorpio

The last few years have found you inventing brow-raisingly creative new ways of making things more exciting—of manipulating the tickle spot between fantasy and reality. The next step finds you waiting for WHSmiths to open on Friday morning; the new Playboy is out—which is usually a vanilla nothing to you—but this one has Marge Simpson on the cover. Yeah, the articles, yeah, tell it to your boss.

Sagittarius

Did you hear a gurgle? If I lend you my biggest colander on Tuesday—the red plastic one with two handles—do you promise you’ll strain every millilitre of that bathwater for babies?  Although it could be the drains, and you’ve heard that babies can be shitty little howling beasts, at least it’ll keep your hands busy and your fingers out of your nose.

Capricorn

Phwoar … look at you in that suit. I’m not usually a suit person, but you? You’ve turned me. You wear that suit.

Aquarius

Your innovative, imaginative solution to the postal strike— of paying each Royal Mail staff member by cheque, and posting it to them—will get you noticed this week, Aquarius. Now, have you got enough stamps?

Pisces

Come back here. Don’t think I haven’t seen you. That? That’s called a ‘result’; it’s what you get when you add a dollop of effort to a smattering of belief. You can touch it, it won’t explode.

**

**

Work in Progress lesson learned this week: my technique of scribbling the glyphs into a photocopied chart blank which I twizzle round to find out what houses for what sign? Doesn’t work for the Nodes.

Sun Sign Horoscopage Mon 5th – Sun 11th October, 2009

Everyone pretends to look away from Mars and Uranus on Monday morning, however, Neptune peeks between his fingers and is impressed and a little inspired that you could do that with one of those.

The next few days are a fading blush of awe and respect, until Thursday, when Mercury stubs his toe on Saturn and starts to snivel.

Friday finds Venus finally asking Uranus to show her that thing Neptune said he saw him doing with Mars on Monday. Uranus pretends not to know what she’s talking about. Mercury pauses midsentence—having completely forgotten why he was whinging —and tries to negotiate.

This carries on into Saturday, when Pluto quietly tells the gobby one that if he likes sitting on the fence so much he’ll impale him on a picket. Mercury runs to tell Jupiter what the heartless little planetoid has said this time, but the gas giant is chilling with the Sun and couldn’t give a monkeys.

Right, I’m off round Cancer’s for tea — you coming?

**

Aries

Monday starts in the wee smalls with a idea for a mad new paper for that awkward wall. This will have to wait as you can’t afford another sickie quite so soon, but do pick at a corner of the old paper on your way out and give it a good pull. You love those ripping noises.

You’ve got to get off and get on because this week’s routine includes some serious thought into how you can sort out the thing that really pisses you off at work. Share this on Thursday and Friday sees your close colleagues putting it into action. They call you an arse on Saturday, but do you care?

Taurus

A couple of weeks ago my very grownup Inbox became a High School corridor of LOLs, !!!s, xXxs, XoXos, OMGs, and a rogue’s gallery of smileys. When I set up my daughter’s Gmail years ago, with her knowledge I jiggled the settings to forward her Inbox to mine; it’s been quiet until now—she’s just joined Facebook.

Likewise this week, Taurus, something you’ve set up in your role as a responsible adult can erupt into a glory of fart jokes and who d’ya fancies. The weekend is a perfect time to set up filters to deflect the flow, should you not like finding yourself caught between a RAWK and a My Space.

Gemini

Woah, Gemini, feelings. Not so good later in the week, eh. As overcast as a Ramsbottom sky. Find a weekend way of expressing the gloom and working it out: writing, uploading, drawing, trolling, making Armageddon figures from puff pastry which you sprinkle with sugar and bake until slightly overdone — all good.

Cancer

Everyone is allowed to have just one cookery book called The Wholefood Pantry, Forever Fibre, Grin and Bear It With Pulses, or somesuch. The cover will have a strip-lit photo of a pile of brown lentils next to a sprig of something green. Yummy. The success of the upcoming week, Cancer, depends entirely on the condition and position of this book. If your copy’s  well-thumbed and pinkish veggie gravy-stained pages are within quick reach, you’re doomed. If its pages are yellowed but otherwise pristine, if it still has the 99p Bargain Books sticker on the cover, and if it’s stuffed in the dark behind Fattening and Fabulous, 1000 Ideas for Double Cream and Cakes! Cakes! Cakes! then the week is yours.

Leo

You’re aiming for a weekend of largesse and ease. I’m not saying it will happen, I’m saying you’re aiming for it. Shop for it until Thursday, then check your credit card balance. If you can’t clear it this month, quickly make an overpayment before you change your mind. I don’t like to see you skint, it makes the corners of your mouth droop.

Virgo

Order vs chaos. Guess which you are. Thursday offers a brief portal of opportunity to open your gob and speak from a belly of authority; I only wish I could make them listen. Could you not just give up and take a turn with the remote controlled dalek?

Libra

I’ve been using the same alarm clock for twenty-five years. Last week the display finally went wonky, cryptic, and the clock became art. Get up! I yelled to the kids,  It’s 1873 … Time to get up … find your clogs … time to go dow’n  pit… up the chimney… Libra, the week starts with a similar unsettling new perspective to old routines. As the days move predictably from Monday to Thursday, your job is to ruthlessly separate your imperatives from those of your forebears: you don’t have to go out to hunt, you don’t have to devote a day to the washing, if you are in the UK you don’t even have to worry about how to pay the doctor.

Straighten your thinking on Friday; the weekend looks lovely if you can just shake off that feeling of impending doom. The Hindenburg has crashed, already.

Scorpio

It’s not big, it’s not clever, but it’s dead funny and winds up Taurus. Carry on.

Sagittarius

Last week, after thirty fabulous years Stephen Hawkins quietly stepped down from his role of Fabulous Head of Big Physics Stuff at the University of Brain. He’s now Emeritus Fabulous Head of Big Physics Stuff.

Take every opportunity this week offers, Saggies, to do something to ensure that when you finally exit stage left you do so not with a carriage clock but with an Emeritus.

Capricorn

You’ll know whether your partner prefers to be woken up with a cuppa or a stiffy. Whichever, doing it on Monday morning will make them feel more cared for than you realise, so put yourself out. You could do with them reciprocating later in the week and through the weekend, when your head is busy choosing the font for your Big Boss nameplate of the future.

Aquarius

On Monday you transfer the gas bill money to your partner’s account, in a brief, deranged moment of believing they’d get it paid. Thursday brings a cold shower and the realisation that—once again—he’s splurged it all on jammy dodgers. Leave him with crumbs in his sheets and hop on a plane for a weekend break somewhere that doesn’t need central heating.

Pisces

Being as small as you can doesn’t attract people who want you to be all that you can. It’s blood in the water to the sharks that circle the insecure, ripping chunks from their flanks, making them even smaller, bite by bite. You’ve really got to get this, Pisces. Really. Please.

The weekend brings a chance to dream constructively of being a bigger, tougher fish. A shark-eating fish with superpowers. And a cape.

**

Sun Sign Horoscopage 28th September–4th October 2009

Mercury gives up this week and starts to go home. He’s retraced his steps, has found £3.48 in coppers but his keys have disappeared. He’s a bit panicky, there’s a backdoor yale to the Underworld on there and Pluto’s starting to stir. The god of commerce pays Mars the £3.48 to bring his big knife and keep an eye on things. Uranus can pull a moonlighter at the weekend and install a new, state of the art security system, no questions asked.

On Friday, the Sun wants to move the sofa so everyone can see the telly, but Neptune likes it where it is and can the Sun just hush, Brief Encounter’s on. Moving the sofa would be tricky anyway, as the Moon is sprawled out across it, sleeping off  a heavy sesh. The two won’t stop quibbling, so the weekend finds Venus and Jupiter taking it into their own hands and having a complete move around of the living room furniture. They get on the phone to Mercury and ask him to pop into B&Q for paint samples on his way back.

The Moon comes to with a roar first thing Sunday: he’s got the mother of all headaches and won’t they all just. shut. up. Uranus tells him to hold still with that light, he’s got a cash job on and the van’s got to be back by teatime.

***

Aries

The niggling demands of your usual routine are not going to be enough to get you out of your warm bed later in the week, Aries. You’ll phone in sick with a fabulous excuse: has the dog eaten your legs? Are you trapped under an avalanche of Shredded Wheat Bitesize? Is Satan returning your immortal soul and you have to wait in for DHL? Start planning. Make it good.

Taurus

At the back of your wardrobe is a secret door. Reach back, through the door there’s a single street light, a big pile of snow, and a rather distracted fawn. Through the door you can fight battles against unimaginable foe, scrumble the mane of a religious icon, and become royalty. On Friday, however, it might just be enough to pull out an ironed shirt.

Gemini

Remember last week’s Spidagon? This week the group of children moved from 2D to 3D shapes. A lad guessed a cuboid was called a Goblong. Goblong—how top is that? As you raise your idea from flat paper planning into tangible 3D this week, Gemini, watch out for the Goblongs.

Cancer

We either make ourselves miserable or we make ourselves happy. The amount of work is the same.
However much I agree with Carlos Castañeda here, there’s work and there’s work. Some work we are trained to do from primary school: it’s core curriculum throughout compulsory education, and its methodology is rigorously applied across screens and billboards. Other work might take the same effort, but we receive just a single, tatty, Ikea flatpack sheet of instructions to help us. Don’t let that put you off, Cancer,  RYJORK on!

Leo

Look at the King! Look at the King! Look at the King, the King, the King!

Are you in the altogether this week, Leo? Or did you pay all that money for a skintight, skintone outfit, with batik genitalia and pubic hair of exquisite needlepoint rugwork? Whatever, some cretin will point and shout that you’re in the nuddy. Find someone you trust to tell you whether your seams are straight.

Virgo

Your friends say he fancies you. You say you can’t make your mind up whether you fancy him, but is this just a dither? I know it all sounds a bit teenage, but this weekend you could party like it’s 1989, so while you’re dithering, don’t feel obliged to make any plans for the weekend that you’d feel guilty about breaking.

Libra

The beginning of the week has a last chance for a while for that good clear out. Tangled wire coathangers, slimy ends of soap, tatty old love letters—sweep the lot into a black bag, and then into the wheelie bin. Whoosh, gone. Gone? If your bin day is before Wednesday you’ll have a shiny new start; if it’s later you’ll spend the weekend picking lumps of Wrights Coal Tar from dogeared A5 sheets of adolescent scrawl. Early Librans—those of you who had your birthday mid last week—you’re up against it, aren’t you, and the pressure isn’t going away for a while. You must be very careful not to confuse having a clear out with concealing evidence. Patios can be taken up, you know.

Scorpio

That’s naughty. You saucy thing.

Sagittarius

Is it that the Emperor’s got no strides on, or is he wearing a skintight, skintone outfit, with batik goolies and rugwork pubic hair? Summon the court to convene, Sagittarius, whether it’s real or illusion, it’s been paid for out of public money. Don’t be afraid to point and shout.

Capricorn

Someone might challenge you to a midweek pissing contest. Usually you do things by the book, however, there’s an opportunity here for rulebook origami — aim for their shoes.

Aquarius

Your idea’s sound but you’ve been going about it all wrong. Do not invest further in it this week; you’ll need that money for your tax bill. Things will make a lot more sense after the weekend.

Pisces

Stop picking, you’ll make it worse.

*

*

Sun sign horoscopage 21st-27th September 09

Well, I don’t know about you lot, but I’m in a foul mood after last week’s kickabout.

The week starts with a seconds out, round gazillion between Mars and Venus. They get off on it, and it sells a lot of paperbacks. Besides, Venus knew perfectly well what would happen when she came out in that frock. It’s the same every time Pluto lets her go through his wardrobe.

Light meets dark on Tuesday. Libra is busy sorting it out into zebra crossing stripes, while Mercury and Saturn argue over who is John and who is Paul. Uranus chucks the George sitar, and pretends to be Ringo in a psychedelic articulated eighteen wheeler.

Wednesday finds the Sun miffed that Pluto won’t let him rootle inside his wardrobe too—it hardly seems fair. He finally asks Jupiter to give the planetoid a good beating, but the gas giant is busy on the Wii, and really, if a mass of incandescent gas with a diameter of 864938 miles can’t fight his own battles by now.

***

Aries

They see the glint of a blade on Monday, but think it’s a trick of the light or too much caffeine. Please put it away, though. They’ll never think you’re perfect. Get over it and get doing. You do that so well.

Taurus

Look, whatever the urge this week you do NOT have permission to wear a burry jumper, stick a finger in your ear, and sing through your nose. Doing so will summon a harmonising chorus of D.I.V.O.R.C.E. And no beer. Understand?

Gemini

This week, I was with a group of young children as they voted by majority to change the name of an eight-sided shape from octagon to spidagon, in honour of the first eight-legged creature they thought of. This would work equally well for spitet, spitave, spidahedron, spituplets, or any other spidad.  It could, however, confuse the whole Spiderman / Doc Ock, superhero/ nemesis thing a bit. As we move closer to Spitober, Gemini, remember that although it’s fine to change an old prefix for a new, keep the distinction between good and evil nice and clear. Your Octosense is tingling.

Cancer

Those people who use long vowels to discuss evolved souls? Does wanting to thump them round the head with a comedy plank of wood mean your soul’s unevolved, or you’re just all-round nice to know? This week’s not one for answers to that, but midweek you’ll certainly apply yourself to the thinking.  To me, to you.

Leo

Shiny things or textbooks?  Textbooks or shiny, shiny, oh so shiny things? Funds only go so far; there’s always Cut and Paste.

Virgo

If you’re reading this, there’s a roughly 500:1 chance it’s your birthday on Monday. Mars in your house of friendships semi-square a first house Venus means there is a tension when a friend from over some water hasn’t got her act together enough to post you a pressie; simultaneously, however, the lovely lady trines Pluto in your house of fun, so you can be content that something pleasant will reach you eventually. In the meantime, whatever your prescribed style sheet, I give you permission to use Oxford commas and semi-colons until your heart sings a birthday song. (I’m good, aren’t I.)

Libra

Monday has an encounter with a right pain in the arse. I promise that on Tuesday your scales will return to perfect balance, so if you want to swing them down sharply on his snippy head on Monday, nobody’s looking and I won’t tell.

Scorpio

Early in the week there will be an opportunity to persuade that friend to do that thing. Equinox, though, means equal night. Take turns.

Sagittarius

A good leader, like the best mattress, is unnoticed, invisibly supportive until some smartarse comes along with a pea. Mush, mush.

Capricorn

The Sun moves into Libra on Tuesday. Your ruler is exalted in Libra, which is as good as it sounds. There’s stuff to be harvested—the planning of which is far simpler than the execution, but still—you can really get some shit done this week.

Aquarius

‘5 a Day’ … ‘60 Active Minutes’… Who makes all this up? Doesn’t it all seem arbitrary to you? Fruit and veg are good for you. Eat them. Duh.  Kids who are blutacked by the bottom in front of a console could do with moving a bit more.  Move a bit more then, kids. Double duh. Watch out that later in the week, Aquarius, you don’t alienate yourself by befuddling your gift for simple common sense with the dogmatically daft. Sixty a day can turn into a very active five minutes.

Pisces

Yeah, they could pick on you on Wednesday. You know who they are. You need this kick up the bum, because it’s an excellent time to start properly planning that change you’ve been grousing about needing but otherwise doing absolutely nothing about. That one. Don’t worry, you’re not an ugly duckling, whatever they say, you’re a swan. Or a really ugly duckling.

*

*

Sun Sign Horoscopage, Mon 14th-Sun 20th Sept 2009.

Not the easiest of weeks. Tuesday is daft. The whole week’s a bit daft, but Tuesday’s the day your mouth will be too full of bitten tongue and strange pudding to remark on the daftness. Certainly don’t book that departmental daftness deregulation meeting for Tuesday.

Mercury’s walking backwards without looking, as an experiment in time and relative dimensions in personal space. He jiggles Jupiter’s abundant applecart on Monday, grinds his stiletto heel into Pluto’s pinkie on Thursday, crashes through Libra and Virgo’s boundary trellis on Friday, and ends the week by headbutting the Sun. There’s a joke here about the old trickster Loki-ing where he’s going, but it’s a poor one and I’m not about to make it.

Saturn’s had better times. He continues to pointedly ignore Neptune, who is characteristically oblivious, being too bound up with Venus in a heady knot of fantasy and earthy sensuality that leaves a regrettable answerphone message and rather grubby fingernails.

Meanwhile, Uranus reverses into Saturn’s personal parking space again, tagging his senior managerial sign with a biological hieroglyph of ultramarine spray paint. It’ll be cleaned up by Thursday, but the pictures are already on the Internet. This is going to be good.

The New Moon on Friday keeps her wishes in a little tin box tucked in her garter, for safer times.

***

Aries

Watch out for Tuesday. No matter how much your mate assures you that spliff will help your creative block, there’s a chance you’ll lose a couple of days and come to declaiming your superiority over the whole of Greater Manchester from the top of the Arndale carpark. Ah, Thursdays.

Taurus

Your routine is shot this week, and the kids are being gits. Diffuse trouble by taking a big cake into work on Monday—or flapjacks, flapjacks are always good—and proclaim Tuesday ‘Beer and Pie Day’. I know I’m talking your language.

Gemini

I once met an astrologer who said Geminee, just like that: Geminee. Not Gemineye, but GeminEEEE. It didn’t half make me jump. Boing, said Geminee. That’s your fact for the week, and generally this week, boing is good. Don’t lose your bounce.

Cancer

Tuesday is the day for getting others to do your bidding. It won’t always be so easy. Please don’t sulk. Look, now I’m feeling bad. Sorry.

Leo

As I type this, unexpected A Team theme tune gently plaits into the birdsong drifting through the open patio doors (sounds nice, doesn’t it, but the garden’s a building site and the house is a tip, and not in a Virgo Very Clean Really way). This week make a time to lie back, raise a glass, and love it when a plan comes together.

Virgo

How some of you are going to fit in a birthday this week, I don’t know. On Monday, check under the sink for bleach and Vim, and in the bathroom cabinet for antiseptic and elastoplast. The new moon in your sign on Friday will have you wishing hard for one small reliable thing to hang your metaphorical jacket upon, and a cat with blunter claws. To avoid living it all again, squish any groundhogs you might see on Sunday.

Libra

Last Monday, as Mercury turned retrograde, Samoa decided to start driving on the left. Samoa’s two big neighbours drive on the left, therefore it’s believed it’ll be easier for non-affluent Samoans to get hold of suitable used cars. People are rattled: the Samoan streets were reportedly near deserted on Monday; shops have been banned from selling booze for a week to let the drunk drivers focus, and Samoa’s Cuban buses have been taken off the road to change their doors from the right to the left, the better to avoid passenger squishage.

Libra, of course you can see both sides of the Samoan situation. It’s what you do. Cheaper, more accessible transport eventually, meanwhile, no booze, no buses, and a strong sense that order has been reversed. Take a tip from Samoa this week: look right, look left, look right again before crossing the road, and be very careful on public transport. Just until the weekend.

Scorpio

On Thursday, look up as you pass the Arndale carpark. You might see a tiny figure right at the top, shouting out—their holler caught and diffused in the breeze—about how they are superior to all other Beans. The faker. You know, quietly, deep down somewhere behind your navel, that you have ultimate dominion over all other Beans. I can tell by the way you use your walk.

Sagittarius

You won’t be able to afford the shoes as well as pay the blackmail tab. Choices, eh. He’ll tell in a couple of weeks anyway, so go for the shoes. They’re shiny. Forget the Cuban heels, go for the clickable Kansas ones.

Capricorn

Step away from the dahlias, Henry Pulling, your phone’s about to ring.

Aquarius

Like Aunt Augusta, Aquarius, you are more closely related to Capricorn than you realise. He, the retired in heart, you, the aged nutter Aunt [alleged]. Don’t hang up: you’ve tall tales of travels, a dream of a fresh love, and you’re uniquely placed to do the telling.

Pisces

When she was small, sweet, serious, and many years before teenage, my daughter asked if she could recite to me the ‘poem’ she’d learnt at school that day. Our Father, she intoned from the kitchen floor, Who hard hit Kevin. This week, Pisces, you’re Kevin.

***