ARIES
This month your life will be a black seeping mess in the Gulf of Mexico. You will be bigger than any natural disaster: you will be a catastrophe. Your partner – or mum – will be bereft and quickly run out of bleach after having washed and washed and washed the bed sheets relentlessly. At night, no one will see you as you slink through the streets, leaving behind a streak of black goo. To say you are a stain on the face of the planet this month is a bit harsh: you aren’t the head of BP after all.
TAURUS
This month you will go to see the Yankees. You will get very drunk and have to hide away in a private box, which belongs to Seinfeld. While in Seinfeld’s box you will grope yourself and pull the finger at people and drink some more. Seinfeld will be horrified to find you rolling around on the floor, days after the game has finished, still drunk and still groping yourself, singing lullabies in a German accent, even though you don’t know a word of German… or any lullabies. Yes, it’s going to be one of those months. Again.
GEMINI
This month you are the vuvuzela. You will drone on and on, trying desperately to inflect your voice with tone and intonation yet completely incapable of doing so. You will make ears bleed and people across the world will hate your one note point of view. However, others who share your monotonal drone will flock to you, and together you will take over the airwaves like a giant swarm of mosquitos. Government will take action and start developing giant roll-on citronella applications, the kind that look feminine but stink like Aussie barbecues at twilight.
CANCER
July is dry July. Well, in theory at least. In actuality it’s bound to be one of the wettest months on record, it being winter and all. But in theory it will be dry July, or should that be Dry July. You will not drink this month. Instead you will order mocktails in large fishbowl glasses so that your hands look small and feminine. You will however believe it is dry July in actuality, much to your chagrin when you get caught in torrential downpour after torrential downpour without an umbrella or even a newspaper.
LEO
You stink like cigarette smoke. It’s like you’ve snuck out of the office and rolled around in an ashtray, which is cool, if you’re into that thing, but I’m sorry, I’m not. I think it’s sick. It’d be alright if you were smoking, but rolling around in an ashtray is just dirty and depraved. Who do you think you are? Some kinda ashtray rolling good-for-nothing who gets off on the whiff of smoked cigarettes. In an ephihany – like a plume of smoke curling from a ciggie – you will realise the error of your ways and take up smoking instead. It’s far more elegant than rolling around in an ashtray.
VIRGO
You are the OC of vampires. Yeah, vampires are meant to be cool and chic and like… edgy. But unfortunately you aren’t. Just when the world encapsulates a craze, along you come and make it totally invalid. Ugh. You’ll be like, totally into hanging around graveyards at night and long leather jackets and pretending you’ve been alive for like… forever. OMG. Like, totally. Ugh. Sucks to be you… if you pardon the pun.
LIBRA
This month you are sparkling and clever like the headline used on a story to acknowledge the fact that Dannii Minogue is not only on the brink of having a cranium jut out from between her legs, but is on the cusp of cutting a ‘return to dance music’ album – a double whammy of horrors really – all under the heading: Ready To Pop. Clever. But a little bit too clever.
SCORPIO
Like a super-mining tax, an entire nation will balk at your presence as you walk into the party. People will avoid talking to you and instead discuss you at length behind your back. Top of the list will be the fact that you came to the party without consulting anyone about what you’d be wearing, and what you are wearing is too tediously horrific to describe that if I were to do so my fingers would bleed profusely before your eyebrows would melt in an attempt to glue your eyes shut. You are about as appealing to the stock market as a plunging cleavage on an incredibly elderly lady. People do not want to be your friend. Again.
SAGITTARIUS
Like a plunging cleavage you will drop your knickers quicker than the Aussie dollar with the news of the super-mining tax. Like an oil slick you will seep into conversations. When you do talk it will be in a loud audible drone. One thing is true. This month you will be a pastiche of other people’s predictions, a coming together of the best bits. You will not be yourself. You will never be yourself. Again.
CAPRICORN
I’d like to order some potatoes please. Not the King George potatoes. I find they are a bit starchy. Do you have any Marris Pipers? I like Marris Pipers. They’re really good for mash. And I like a bit of mash, I do, particularly after the stroke. It makes it easier to eat when it’s all mashed up. I’ve been to the police about it too, the strokes, because there’s been three in the past six months here in this village, and if I didn’t know better I’d say there’s something dodgy going on, what with all these strokes. Maybe it’s to do with the ducks. I couldn’t find them anywhere, and Paula at Number 32 swears there were ducks down at the pond. Swears. Maybe they’re out causing strokes. I don’t know. I’ll have three kilos thanks.
AQUARIUS
Please insert ‘nice’ horror-scope here.
PISCES
This month is this month. It’s not next month or last month. At pinch it might be the month after this, but only if the month after that isn’t this month. If the month after the next month is this month then you can be sure it won’t be last month in disguise, nor the month prior to that. In 12 months time this month will certainly be this month again, but it’ll be this month’s future version of itself which means it’ll be like this month just 12 months from now. I’m glad that’s all clear.
