Sarcastic Work Experience Report

Timekeeping: Not sure. Never seemed to be at her desk.

Learning Ability: Limited to stuff about texting

Appearance: Wretched, with special mentions to jeans and trainers

Motivation: Seemed to be money, violence and watching television

Relationship with other employees: Non-Existant

Relationship with manager: Possibly hostile

Ability to follow/seek guidance: Ha!

Ability to work in group/team: Never in a month of Sundays

General comments: Possibly the squadron leader for the next wave of inconsiderate mouth-breathers that will further tarnish the name of our once great nation. I weep for all of us, for in fifty years, thei children will care for us in our nursing homes, unless, I can finally get my hands on some automatic weapons.

Letters to The Editor

Morning,

Yesterday evening, with the more than able assistance of Mr. W, we created some reactionary and subversive letters to The Evening Mail, and The Sun. Here they are:

Knives:
My 14 year old loves Facebook and I was happy for him to use the internets to chat to his friends. After your front page, I grounded him and filled his computer with sand. Now he hates me, but this is a small price to pay for his safety. It wasn't like this in my day.

'Concerned'

Asylum Seekers/Illegals:
I am stunned to read of yet more mindless violence on our streets, caused by these so-called 'asylum seekers'. In my day these criminals would have been thrown out of the country, but now, because of the do-gooders, they are given a hotel room and free Sky TV. Disgraceful.

General:
I agree with S.T. Vaughan. I wouldn't trust most MPs as far as I could throw them!

"Youth of Today":
On a visit to my local shopping centre, I was shocked and disgusted to overhear a conversation between two youngsters at the bus stop. The language they were using I can only describe as unprintable! It's about time they brought back national service to instil some integrity, manners and respect in the youth of today.

Disgusted Citizen, Frankley

On The Buses:
As we hear so much in these pages attacking Birmingham's bus service, I feel it is only right that I put pen to paper to praise the driver of the number 63 bus who greeted me with a cheery smile today. Following an altercation with some youths, he proved himself to be the model of professionalism. Keep up the good work!

June Badcock, Rubery

"The Germans":
I was shocked and appalled to read that the Barber's children were not allowed to play on the swings - unlike the German children. How Mike Barber restrained himself is beyond me. Remind me, who won the war, anyway?

Anon

Yes, 'internets' is deliberate...

A Few Quick Points

I have been monumentally disappointed by everything I have ever bought from Maplin Electronics. And yet I still visit.

There is an intermittent loud buzzing which could be either a big, angry wasp, a hornet (eek!) or a small motorcycle trapped behind the drawers. Either way, it's freaking me out.

Some proles living nearby are having a laughably small rave. I can only just hear the music, but every ten seconds or so I hear a "Whoop!! Whoop!!". It's like it never went out of fashion. Or possibly they are trapped in a horrendous 1995 time-warp.

Tiny book review: Richard Hammond can write about his recovery in a grown up and illuminating way. Mindy Hammond's version of events seems to involve a lot of crying and being brave. I don't doubt that this didn't happen, in an immensely traumatic time. It seemed to me like I re-read the same page twenty times. Sorry. Still an NTP recommended book.

Tidy Up

Hello,

In line with the current downsizing and clutter removal I am doing, please note that some well loved features of this page have been removed;

• The "Weekly List"
• The Daft Passport Picture
• Quite a few books off the "currently reading" list

Added however are:

• Subscribe to this blog with RSS or other newsreading software!
• Books scheduled to read as soon as I have finished the "Currently Reading" section!
• Updated and relevant links! (Includes links for Birmingham's immediate and longer term weather, the Baltimore Orioles site and Magazine Monitor amongst others)

Hopefully this will give you a more harmonious and possibly useful reading experience as you pass through this site.

Do come back soon.

Here are some words I invented...

Yep, just came across some words that I claimed to have invented in 1998:

• Glurty
• Sleb
• Gimm
• Perbulo
• Teg
• Flubble
• Gnaah
• Joom
• Furt
• Nenvex
• Goom

Ooh!

Introducing you to my current desktop at work, stretched full (if you want the full vision). Best viewed in 4:3 square-o-vision, then you get the magnificence of the spherical cloud. Originally only meant to be up for one day, this replaced the vandalised "Windows NT" with NT crossed out and XP written over the top after 11 months.

Of course, this was to commemorate the Trinity test of July 16, 1945; the moment science theoretically could have destroyed the world. The results were less devastating than that, but still deadly enough for its cousins to virtually end World War Two.

From scientists theoretically having the power to destroy the world, the governments of the world now have enough to destroy the world five times over.

Enough doom though - what an astonishing image. Captured (according to the always correct Wikipedia) 0.016 seconds after detonation. Props to the legendary Berlyn Brixner who took the photograph. He's still very much alive, and he's the only 97 year old I want to meet. He is famously also the inventor of the Ultra High Speed shutter.

Something Light, Please

Hello

It has been a week since the last time I was able to check the internet, as my lovely T-Mobile web system has decided to go kamikaze. I think that 'the big computer' has been infested with some nasty sodding virus, which is causing a denial of service attack every few minutes. Cock.

So I have relocated to the surprisingly pleasant early evening sunshine in the conservatory with the laptop. (Fully updated with a leading brand of anti-virus software.) In the distance I can hear children playing with a hose, a helicopter, and smell freshly cut grass. Re-reading that sentence, it seems that the children are playing with a helicopter and some grass. This is wrong, but I can't be bothered to retype it.

I have also spent humungous amounts of time reading Derren Brown's book, Tricks of the Mind. If you click on the title, you can go to Amazon and get a copy, should you wish. It has filled me with confidence and boosted my brain, as well as handily slapping psychics and alternative medicine. I also now how to 'do hypnosis' and some rudimentary card tricks. Well worth a read.

On the subject of books, there are quite a few I need to finish. I am desperate to finish Richard Hammond's story of his life threatening crash in 2006 - will he survive? I won't know until I finish the book. Nice read, however it seems to be written for children, by both of the Hammonds. Full review if needed on completion.

Nothing much has happened with the Radio stuff yet, but I have built some fake newspapers in the classic style, for work. And mentioning work, I applied for a new job today. Lets see what happens.

The sun has moved lower in the sky, and the children's yelps have been replaced with the relaxing sound of police cars and wheelspins.

Mentioning police cars, the first edition of this series of Top Gear was on NTP TV last night. My technique of minute detail watching spotted that not only did JC have "In prison, no-one can hear you scream", but the unremarked "It's the filth" in capital reverse letters on his bonnet. Class.

Right, think i might get some coffee. Back later.

Musings

Hello world. I have succumbed to a debilitating and cruel injury, which has seriously knackered my typing and general computer skills. This is a nightmare for personal and professional reasons, not only will this blog update take hours to type - The Rest of the World as led by Tiger Woods will have to wait until I have recovered for their savage beating. And work will suffer too, but that's not important,

So I have some arse of a skin disaster, which in essence, tears each time I stretch the fingers on my left hand. Not nice. And a course of antibiotics and (really) cream that is usually marketed to sufferers of thrush.

Anyhow, enough of the rubbish.

Have you ever met anyone who has the ability to make you feel like the most special person in the world? Like you are the only person that has ever existed for them? Where occasionally, that person would with the right word or smile melt away the biggest problem that has ever happened? You could spend hours just thinking of them, and their happy smiling face. Even the merest thought of them unhappy makes you angry.

Conversely, have you ever met a person who could, with one word or movement of the face, fill you with dread? Make you think 'Ooh, Jesus.’ Bring you out in a huge cold sweat, and make your heart race with a mild terror.

Now, how many of you out there had the pleasure of person a being the same subject as person b?

I'm sure it can't just be me, as I have had more than one instance of this.

Moving around the subject, I visited an ex today and saw her beautifully arranged house and happy lifestyle, with the whole varied social life and successfully indexed and handled correspondence. This all sat well with her toned body and sunned complexion.

I then compared myself right now, with the same standards. We have both had exactly the same amount of time to shake our lives down following our break up.

I live in a box room, in a friend’s house, where the only people I talk to regularly seem to be my colleagues at work. All my possessions are strewn around the city, most of them in unattractive storage containers. Currently, I have just taken possession of my DVDs, and the only way I could reasonably store them is in an old suitcase - which I can't even open up because of my hand.

The food I cook is often the very finest of the two pot variety (look out for my cook book shortly). All of my post is precariously balanced on my scanner. Six months of it.

This brought huge waves of introspection; was I jealous? I have worked hard over the last few years to overcome my insane jealousy, so I'm fairly sure that wasn't it. It then dawned on me that it was my own lack of motivation that made me feel down. If I had driven myself to look harder for a flat, I could have a nice-ish place of my own. The post would magically be handled if I responded to it swiftly, instead of leaving it to gather on the scanner. My food would be more interesting if I could be arsed to cook something that wouldn't easily fit in two pots. Then, I may have the 'go' to wash the chuffing stuff up.

So, it's not jealousy - it's my own problem.

I then handled some frankly bizarre questions about 'us', and as I put two and two together to make a figure surely in the high teens, my subconscious was poking me in the eye and screaming "She's seeing somebody new!”

Everything seemed to fall into place. Little clues around the place that my overactive imagination was forensically stitching into shape.

This made my heart sink. I actually felt sick. Even though it shouldn't have any bearing on me.

I have had girlfriends who have gone on to have a legion of kids by a selection of hand chosen unsuitable men. I know they have had sex with other men; damn, there is living proof. Here, the merest unproven suggestion was sending me into uncharted gloom.

I really don't have any opinion. What she does is no longer any concern of mine. But to have those feelings are a very deep concern. Is this natural?

Indeed, if I was to have struck up some improbable immediate relationship after leaving her, would my feelings be the same?

I am a man, screaming towards thirty like a runaway cliff-top house, with the insecurities of a five year old and the social skills of a cat.

Sorry if this all seems gloomy and down, but trust me, it feels better to be on the page than racing around in my head.

Fear not! There are some redeeming features. At the very bottom of the page, I asked "can I keep this up for longer than a week"? I have now been a user of Blogspot for months, so in the adopted words of George McFly - if you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.

Madame B - Episode 3.5?

The Denoument Of Mme B

Todays short message from Mme B concerns only one star sign, so apologies in advance.

Libra

You will feel cold and upset by your general lack of thought and decency regarding your girlfriend, following an ill-advised and impromptu drinking session. Other feelings will include hurt, detachment and self-anger, aimed centrally at your own lack of control and propensity to create lies to cover your own arse when there is no need for you to do this, making everything ten times worse. This weekend will see you struggle to keep a relationship
together that you worked so hard to begin, and very easily tossed away. Libra, you disgust yourself, and you deserve the isolation that worry and guilt provide.

Other stars available on request.

The Farmhouse

I have a beautiful farmhouse in Norfolk. It stands proud over the rest of the flat landscape, dominating the nearby overgrown fields and woodland. I may be right in thinking that this is the highest point for fifty miles or so. Inside is everything you would find in a grand working house of the time - the huge fireplace, slate covered kitchen and warm oven at the centre, four cosy bedrooms and room for all of my dogs. I left there six months ago. I will never go back.

It began on a cold winter's night eighteen months ago when things started to...well...go a little strange. Mary, Isabella, Ralph and I were sitting round the kitchen table, talking over that days efforts at school when suddenly, my two dogs start barking and becoming agitated. Could they have seen a fox, I wondered? It would have been unusual for one of them to get through my new fence. As I rose from my seat to investigate the cause of all this noise, the barking from the dogs seemed to increase in anger, and maybe fear. I rushed to the door at once, and as soon as I opened it, the dogs stopped barking and dashed in to be in the safe position by the fireplace in the kitchen. I though no more of the commotion outside as my children and I comforted the frightened hounds.

After ten minutes, they were up again and moving around the farmhouse - but nervously. I never thought to check outside afterwards, it was bitterly cold, and driving snow was beginning to fall heavily.

Our dogs have seen snow before, surely it can't have been that which spooked them?

That night moved slowly toward the back of my mind as winter wore on - soon it was February and the days were lighter and longer.

On bright Saturday morning, my children and I went for a walk along the River Saundersfoot to see the first signs of spring, well, springing. Some snowdrops were pushing up against the softening earth, and we stopped and crouched to admire Nature's struggle.

Unexpectedly, there was a sharp gust of wind and what seemed like a loud, but distant cackle. All was still. Isabella, my youngest, asked for a reassuring cuddle. As I held her closely to me, as small birch tree snapped over in front of our eyes. We stood as one, open mouthed as tree after tree snapped in the middle.

I decided to get the children back to safety of the farmhouse as quickly as possible. As we ran from the river's bank, the noise of the destruction of the trees was unbearable. After five minutes we were far enough away to not hear the terrible force at work.

Shortly, we were at the door to the kitchen, which I always keep on the latch. It was locked, and stuck fast. 

A Pint of Lightning

I've been toying with the idea of an entire surreal radio station being condensed into fifteen minutes and being put together by myself, with me doing all the parts.

There would be a news / current affairs programme, sports, traffic reports, bulletins, weather reports, foreign reports, location interviews, etc. I should be able to do this as there are local soundscapes to use, and then mixing it in using Audacity.

I'm basing my thinking around Radio Five, which I have seemed to have absorbed on the two weeks I have spent away from work. This will also save me from lapsing into Colin the Inappropriate Hospital DJ, as I'm saving him for later and I can't use real music for copyright reasons.

Anyhow, here's a written sample of one of the weather reports:

James: And now it’s over to Alex with the weather, from the Melodramatic Weather Office.

Alex: Thank you, James. For the majority of the country today, there will be prolonged spells of incessant abject misery pouring from leaden skies, if not to irretrievably flood the country but at the very least drown it beyond recognition. Coastal regions will be too close to the wrath of Neptune to be spared. For Central end Eastern Scotland, it will be hotter than the surface of the sun for the best part of the afternoon, Weather Office advice is to stay indoors and paint everything white. And that’s the weather.

Random Irritations 0001

Afternoon,

I was sitting and contemplating witty and clever things when it struck me that there seems to be no word to sum up thunder and lightning. Thunder and lighting are very much the same thing, even though the thunder may occur seconds after the lightning strike.

Anyhow, this distraction led me to mistype in my document, and created what I will use as the umbrella phrase for my radio work - A Pint of Lightning.

Watch this space.

A Few Words Of Thanks...

I Shouldn't Be Doing This...

Evening,

I vaguely remember studying English at School and College - I even have a Degree and everything. However, sometimes, as Depeche Mode sang in Enjoy The Silence, 'words are very unnecessary'.

So sit back, turn up your speakers, and enjoy possibly the most base and primevally funny video on YouTube.

Note: This film contains one instance of a very West Country stronger swearword.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JJI3rRdZAYE

More tales from the internet later. It's 1.22 am, and my body has only just woken up.

Welcome To ...Liverpool?

A couple of days ago, in a sun induced moment of madness, I visited the European Capital of Culture, 2008. Here are some atmospheric pictures.

So here we are, coming into view of the Three Graces, about to disembark from the world famous Mersey Ferry. On the boat, I realised the last time I travelled by water, it was on the Staten Island ferry, on September 11th. 2006. In view are some construction projects, where I really wanted to visit - the site of Cream 2000, where I spent the millennium.

Around the corner, Albert Dock, and a yellow water based transport device. Hands up if you thought Liverpool looked like this. Not many hands there...

Another place I wanted to visit was the Liverpool Metropolitan Cathedral of Christ the King. Well worth a visit, even more so on a sunny day as the glasswork viewable from the inside casts incredible colours on the wall. 

Venturing further onwards, hundreds of houses boarded up. Why? Note that these houses have Liverpool branded boards, and are colourful. I walked through many, many streets in Edge Hill that were awaiting either demolition or resurrection. 

A grand day out indeed.

Is there a social problem in Britain, and if so, what would you do to remedy it? Be sure to show your workings.

Caution. This post may upset.

It also may not read like a well constructed argument.

I was in bed this morning, listening to Radio Five Live, and Victoria Derbyshire's discussion show. A woman rang in to add to the topic of sex education in schools, and said that she saw older boys repeatedly having sex with eight year old girl in the next garden. She called the police, and shouted at the boy, who responded with swearing, and leaving the girl lying on the ground with her underwear round her ankles. The caller claimed that she had called the police, and that nothing had been done by them.

This evening, I was treated to an hour long documentary, "Cops With Cameras" on ITV.  Normally, I can be entertained by stolen car chases with a passive/aggressive voice over, or youths being pummeled by HM Rozzers accompanied by dramatic music, but this took things to a new level. Here, as police were arresting Bob Marley (not that one) some local herberts took time out of their day to swear and abuse the coppers. Who laughed it off. Surely, that's a criminal offence, to abuse a police officer?

Another aspect of the programme was a relatively mid-scale drugs bust, with a obscured man in his pants vehemently denying that there were any drugs in his house. Once the dogs were in, they found substantial quantities of amphetamines, cannabis, ecstasy, and boxes of knock-off clothes and counterfeit cigarettes ("These are bad for your health!", as one helpful officer described them).

The day before I saw a programme "Snog, Marry, Avoid" on BBC3. On researching this paragraph, I saw that today they are showing "Britain's Youngest Grannies". Two of the contestants seemed to be too caricature-ish to be invented. One had just received a boob job as a present from her father, the other appeared to think that she could channel Paris Hilton.  In their preview videos, the one went out with black electrical tape as suitable upper-wear, both were keeping the fake tan and glitter industry alive. One even went under the name of Levi, even though she was called Gemma.

So, from listening to the radio, watching the box, as well as looking out of the window, I can tell that this island is sinking under the weight of track-suited school-avoiding knife-wielding sex mad boys, who know the law and refuse to respect the authority of anyone, and girls who view Barbie as a viable fashion icon, whose only interest is clubbing and who believe any attention is good attention.

All this can surely lead to one inevitable conclusion...

As you may be aware, the UK has the highest teenage pregnancy rate in Western Europe. Did you know, in 2006, there were 1200 births to girls under 16, and 45,000 births to those under 20?

Anecdotally, it has long been suggested that having a baby as soon as possible is a direct route to a free council house/flat, combined with benefits. According to a Councilor who spoke on the radio this morning, she is besieged with young women demanding a house, and near to their mothers'. The caller who spoke about the disgusting perpetual rape of the girl said that she lived on an estate that was full of households with the school age mum with no interest in baby.

This doesn't seem to be a problem limited to one part of the country, we have systematic, knowing abuses of our benevolent benefits system by people who have no interest in either formal learning or working.

So what do we do?

I understand that every baby has it's own story, and that generalisations like this could upset people. So, sorry if you think that this post is attacking you, or someone you know. It isn't. What it is doing is acknowledging that there is a problem of abuse of benefits, housing and society.

Can we stop child benefit immediately? No, as this will only pull the rug from under the very people whom the benefits were created for, the mothers to provide for the children.

The same can be said of disability benefit. There is widespread abuse of this - a case in point being the men (it always seems to be men) who claim for being written off in an industrial accident yet are filmed by Police casually throwing petrol tankers into the sea. Surely something sensible can be done?

If all benefits were to be stopped overnight, there would be radio phone ins jammed with rightly unhappy genuine claimants, and the Police would have to try to control the looting.

The Police have a very difficult job in controlling the feral youths on the edge of society. I'm sure they would love to belt some sense into them, but they cannot. They can't sentence them - that's up to the courts - and often have to deal with them them the day after the courts release them with no sentence. Our prisons are so full of scum, there is no room left.

Which brings me back to the drug dealers. Drugs have exploded in availability and reduced in price. Vietnamese gangs are renting houses to farm cannabis. Offices up and down this land are awash with staff still coming down off their weekend ecstasy buzz on Monday, and have official procedures for "Suicide Tuesday" - when the high finally wears off. I have no evidence to support this, but I believe that some lottery winners have a lot to do with the rise in organised crime and drugs in the UK. 

According to Camelot's most recent winners press release, The National Lottery has paid out over 2,100 million pound plus prizes. Surely not all of the money has gone to the 'deserving'? Examples like Michael Carroll tell us that statistically, some of that money makes it's way to the more nefarious members of society - in turn unlocking the door to the toys of say, counterfeiting or buying lorry-loads of drugs.

In the same way that the car helped social mobility in the 20th Century, enormous swathes of cash may have helped to mobilize the criminal element in the 21st.

I understand things change, but surely, in the truest Daily Mail islander fashion - something MUST be done to stop the crims and the council estate no-go areas?

One answer may be to make schooling non-universal. Instead of wasting time and money on making kids go to school only to exclude them, ask the parents whether they want their kids to go or not, and then spend the rest of the cash on extra Police, and each school class is reduced, solving overcrowding.

Or possibly, in the words of on of the late Kenny Everett's characters, "Round 'em up, put 'em in a field, and BOMB THE BASTARDS!"

Normal service will be resumed, as soon as I have calmed down. And no, I'm not drunk, either.

Old Poetry

After looking through some of the utter dross that I wrote whilst at college, I decided to not publish anything. There are several, numbered reasons;

1. It simply isn't good enough
2. Some of the lyrics and titles would be defamatory
3. It is really, really poor
4. It's a little embarrassing for some historical exes
5. Some of it is teeth-gnashingly bad

Hopefully that clears it up.

I did find a two line stanza that stuck in my throat, from the poem "Waiting For History", which was:

As I sit and wait for History

I could be doing something better with my time

...which nicely sums up my last fifteen years or so.

Looking back I know I was referring to History with a large H, the subject, and not the passage of time; yet the lines nag at me about wasting time thinking about doing something better and never actually doing it. 

In essence, I'm telling the modern me off from a library desk in Halesowen, in 1996. Man, that's deep.

Weather vs. 'Don't Speak' by No Doubt

Earlier on, I wanted to hang out my washing. As I stepped into the garden, I could hear 'Don't Speak' by No Doubt, apparently being broadcast by a tree. This is possibly my least favourite song (of a band that I like) in the last twenty years.

I was so disgusted, I returned inside and the washing is still in the machine, requiring drying.

That's without question, the most adverse reaction to hearing a song, ever.

Madame B - Epilogue

Afternoon,

I'm sure there were some more transcriptions from the witterings of Madame B, but they may be lost in the midst of time. Madame B may be making a return to action after four and a half long years away - send me a comment with the star sign you would like to have a personalised reading for, and I promise to at least wave it at Mme B in the near future. Not all respondents will get a personal reading, etc. etc. etc.

Next project - on to publishing the faintly embarrassing poetry!

Madame B - Episode 5

16 January 2004 10:28

"Bumper Update From The Woman Who Knows Everything - Apart From When to Stop Drinking"

Good morning, believers

I must begin with a bit of good news; Mme B has made a complete recovery. Firstly, from the serious cranial injuries sustained by the golf club that was wrapped around her head by a mystery assailant early in December, the alcohol deprivation that she was cruelly put through whilst she was she was in said coma, and predicting things that will actually happen.

Saying that she had made a complete recovery is an understatement, as she has reached uncharted new levels of drunkenness, abuse and disgusting personal hygiene. She has also been blessed with the ability to divine our futures with the technique of reading the tallow cards. These are different to Tarot cards, because they are made completely from cow fat.

I have asked her to ask the spirits for good fortune for my withered hands, as the new skin that was growing split whilst I was walking to the building, with an almighty swear. I asked for a saucy lady dermatologist to be expedited to me. 

So, without further ado, with a round of warm applause, please welcome back Mme B, with her first set of sensible stars from Birmingham...aided by animal by-products.

Virgo

Welcome back, Virgo. You have been mentally away on business for too long, and deserve you let your hair down over the weekend. Visit your local off-licence and put them out of business, and while you are there, think about your favourite astrologer. Venus in the ascendant of the house of Vauxhall means that the following will revolve entirely around cow fat. Steer clear of the animals that have been grazing in your spare room, as they may turn nasty. Pick up the courage to finally learn a martial art, and once you have, half-volley a tramp into a shop window.

Gemini

Fate brings you into contact with a large number of essential pamphlets and leaflets this weekend, and the sight of a doctor's surgery has never been more welcomed. This will be the fourth time in two days that you require emergency medical attention, as a re-discovered child's chemistry set proves too exciting to leave alone. Do not eat all of the Caesium. You will explode. In your downtime, you will uncover a desire for Bagpuss, and by Monday you will be an expert in the adventures of the saggy cloth cat. Involve a few friends in a saucy game, Buckaroo HP. Make your friends see you in a new light, by smashing all of their lights and demanding that they put new ones in.

Capricorn

The Gods of fate insist you have a less violent weekend than the previous 200 or so. The locals just cannot feel safe with you in this mood. Turn over a new leaf, by pulling a leaf from a hedge and rotating it 180 degrees anti-clockwise. Saturn makes a right mess in your kitchen. John Cleese turns up at your house-party and is crestfallen when nobody talks about Fawlty Towers. Enrol in a course that teaches you essential skills, like rock climbing, shepherding, practical nuclear physics or arc-welding. A film about equality inspires you to employ a cat as your mechanic.

Scorpio

Scorpy. You cad! As the moon is in the house of Asparagus, you are destined to go into a club, smile at the first woman you see and promptly get it on with her. Thankfully, involvement from the bouncers stop it going any further, and after gentle pleading, the cloakroom attendant will not be pressing charges. Luck sees you win 15 driving lessons, even though you passed your test in 1976. If it is your birthday, then sadly you have been reading the wrong star-sign. Fortune favours the brave, and you realise this after hinding behind the setee for the best part of twelve hours. Daleks are not real. Mars sinks a bit, under the weight of all the probes on it. This causes you to have a massive outbreak of acne.

Libra

A woman dressed in black will intimidate and humiliate you this weekend, although it's ok because you paid good money for it. A strongly worded letter from HM Government will land on your doorstep, advising you in the strongest possible terms that you are to no-longer send soiled underwear to selected members of the cabinet. Even though they look forward to it plopping through their letterbox. Yes, we have no bananas. Gordon Ramsay will cook for you, but you will be disgusted by it. To console him, you buy him pie and chips from across the road. He cries. Fate makes you buy a tonne of cow fat.

And with a huge sigh, Mme B breaks wind for ten minutes. On closer inspection, she is playing the Romanian national anthem. And as I look through the 'bumper book of national anthems', she disappears into the setting sun, even though it's well before midday.

I'm sure we will hear from her again, but it may be a while.

Keep the faith