Proof that horoscopes are a bag of shite

Back at the turn of the year I came across this horoscope in a copy of "Marie Claire" magazine, which claims to predict not only the course of my career in 2006, but also my love life.

Firstly, let's clear a couple of things up: I found the magazine in my kitchen - I certainly did not buy it myself, and anyone who says I did is lying. I am not the kind of moron who regularly devours women's magazines in the expectation that he will eventually understand what part of his abject persona renders him so unappealing to their kind. That is definitely not me.

Also, I am not the kind of cretinous fuckwit who ever takes any notice of what "psychic sandra" has to say about the movement of "Saturn (the planet of stability)", just as I do not believe that the moon is made of cheese. But for some reason I cut this out and kept it in my room, pinned to my noticeboard. I wonder why?

I couldn't give a shit about the career, money and success bullshit: we all know I'm practically already a millionaire. But if you notice, the 28th February is my "LUCKY LOVE DAY". That's interesting, because that's tomorrow. That's also unfortunate, because the girl who I am currently somewhat besotted with no longer wants to see me. How are you going to get out of that one horoscope? I'm waiting...

You never know, it is Shrove Tuesday tomorrow. Perhaps I shall fall in love with a pancake, we shall marry, and have lots of sticky, sugary babies that I shall probably eat.