Our resident psychic Crystal is back this April with your horoscope, so check out what’s in store for you this April.
Holy Harbour Bridge Batman! While out drinking in Sydney, you meet Burt Ward – the actor who played Robin in the original camp 60s TV series of Batman. It makes your night, and soon there are pictures of you and him plastered all over Facebook. Unfortunately, you get a little too drunk and end up giving him a blowjob in the toilets. Every time you see those pictures afterwards you feel dirty, and when people try and get you to talk about what he was like you just go quiet and start crying.
Brian Ferry of Roxy Music fame dies this month and, in his will, he reveals that you are his illigitimate child. Gods bodkins! Turns out he had an illicit affair with early 90s one-hit wonder Whigfield – and you are the result. Alas, he doesn’t leave you any money – just his stage presence, which is basically just him swaying side to side looking slightly constipated.
You become an Elvis impersonator. Unfortunately, it’s not the “Hunka, Hunka burnin’ love” he was in 1956, it’s the fat burger-munching “hound dog” he was in 1973. You die on the toilet in a big nappy a year later munching on Big Macs.
Craig Foster is a cock.
I haven’t got time to do your horoscope this month. I’ve got an appointment at a lazer clinic to have my pubes zapped off in 10 minutes. It’s been a jungle down there for years. When I went for my initial consultation and probing, they found one of Tiger Woods’ golf balls in my bush. Talk about finding the rough.
The phonecall you’ve been waiting for all your life finally comes. It’s Alex Ferguson. His scouts have been closely watching the Eastern Suburbs Football Association All Age Division Four this season, eager to unearth any hidden gems. They’ve spotted you. They’re interested. And if they’re interested, he’s interested. Very interested. He’s got footage of you in action. He likes what he’s seen. No need for a trial, just head straight to Old Trafford. There’s a four-year contract worth $100,000 that needs your signature on it. You agree and put the phone down. Then you pick it up again and phone your mates to make sure it’s not a wind up. It’s not. It’s the real thing. You book the next flight to Manchester, call your boss, tell him to go fuck himself, then head to the airport. While you’re on the 27-hour flight back home, the Old Trafford medical team discover Ferguson has had a massive stroke that has left him mentally retarded. In his enfeebled state he called six other players from the Eastern Suburbs to join the club. He’s little more than a drooling fool by the time you arrive. You try to explain what happened to temporary United boss Mike Phelan, but he just laughs hysterically for 18 minutes before you realise he’s not going to stop until you leave. It was fun while it lasted.
You learn to play the bit at the end of the theme from Hollyoaks on guitar. A productive month.
I’m as serious as Taurus, when I say rhythm is a tortoise.
After a supernatural prophecy from three witches in medieval Scotland, and at the urging of your wife, you commit regicide and become the King of Scotland. Thereafter, you live in anxiety and fear, unable to rest or to trust the nobles who serve you. You lead a reign of terror until you are defeated and beheaded by Macduff. The throne is then restored to the rightful heir, the murdered King Duncan’s son, Malcolm. Out vile jelly!
It’s every man’s worst nightmare. Important interview… hot date… you wake up in the morning, with an old man’s head. Clegg Head syndrome affects one in every 346 men but is sadly incurable. Get used to it granddad.
Stop pressuring me, stop pressuring me, stop pressuring me – it makes me wanna scream. Haaarrrr!!!
I was literally just looking at your fortune for this month but I got distracted by an advert for longer, lasting, loving and can’t remember what it was. Something to do with a genie I think. I’m trying to remember but… No, it’s gone. Don’t you hate it when that happens?