Well, ain’t you a right royal bag of spanners, lugging about responsibilities like a pack mule with a thyroid problem. But listen here, sunshine, the more elbow grease you slap on those pesky tasks, the easier they’ll roll over and play dead, just like your ex. Now you’re off gallivanting into new shenanigans, dreaming of rainbows and unicorns, all the while guarding your crown jewels from the expected kick in the trousers. Your lucky phrase, mate, is “Bob’s your uncle.” Say it three times before breakfast and you’ll either find a long-lost Uncle Bob or scare off the neighbours. Either way, it’s a win!

Come back tomorrow for another exciting horoscope!