BBM’s very own resident psychic, Crystal Balls, tells your fortune for the month in her very very special way…
After mocking your best friend for years for subscribing to Puzzler magazine, you’re left eating your words when you get a new job on a farm and, on your first day, find yourself needing to cross a river with a chicken, a fox and a bag of corn – but with only enough room in the boat to take one at a time.
Four down: Disheartened when fighter aircraft with corrosion gets admired (10 letters)
A mix-up at the chemists could unlock hidden superpowers, or relieve painful bowel cramps and incontinence. Alas, it’s one or the other – which is why pedestrians grab for their umbrellas whenever you fly overhead in your cape.
Don’t forget to Skype your mum this weekend or you’ll really regret it at her funeral in December.
After months of thinking about changing jobs to something in journalism or teaching, your search for a new career path takes an unexpected twist when you land the role of Rumpleteazer in a Sydney Opera House production of Cats.
It’s a haberdashery of a month for you. He who calls the piper pays the tune. A man called Dodecahedron will have a big impact on your career. Listen out for the numbers six, five and 459. They will call to you in the night, like a red squirrel pining for the golden days before grey squirrel dominance. Large Hadron Collider. There is also a 50 per cent chance you will be left confused this month by a deliberately obtuse horoscope. Adding to the confusion is the fact you don’t know what the word “obtuse” means.
You start a “no-strings” physical relationship with the actress who played Blanche in the Golden Girls. Despite the age difference, the sex is absolute dynamite. The only downside is she died four years ago and grave robbery is punishable by up to 10 years in jail.
Your decade-long battle to sue the producers of Jurassic Park for stealing the idea for a film you had after your parents took you to West Midland Safari Park reaches a climax this month when the judge issues a restraining order banning you from going within 100 metres of Stephen Spielberg and any members of his immediate family. It would have been worse but his lawyers failed to prove beyond doubt that the turd he received through the post was mailed to him by you, even though DNA testing proved it was one of yours.
After a particularly heavy night on the sauce, you wake up in the middle of the afternoon on a bench somewhere on the coast near Bondi wearing only your pants and with scores of tourists taking photos of you. You try to shoo them off but the effort just makes you vomit onto the floor and you spend the next hour dry heaving and crying about where your life is headed. About a month later, you receive a letter from the organisers of Sculpture by the Sea confirming that you’ve come second in the People’s Choice category. Your prize? A $100 bar tab at the Tea Gardens in Bondi Junction. And so the cycle continues.
Number 112. Number 113. Number 114. Please take a ticket and wait for your horoscope to be called.
You decide to make a bit of extra money by renting out your Facebook cover photo as advertising space. It’s eventually hired out by an extreme right-wing political party whose name I am unable to print due to decency laws. Let’s just say you lose all your Jewish friends and are investigated by the police for inciting racial hatred. On the plus side, you get a friend request from Mel Gibson.
I’m running out of space to do your horoscope so I’ll have to make it quick. Basically, you’re enjoying a game of lawn bowls with a group of close friends when – to cut a long story short – four end up dead and you lose half your face to acid burns.