Cor blimey, it’s a right old pickle you’re in, isn’t it? You’re so busy, it’s like there’s only twenty-three hours in a day, the missing hour’s gone walkabout. You’re juggling tasks like a one-legged man at an arse-kicking contest. Just as you think you’ve got it sussed, life throws another spanner in the works, trashing your well-thought-out plans like a drunken stag party in a china shop. You were hoping to splurge on a shiny new bauble, but that’s gone belly-up as well. The thingamajigs either been snapped up faster than a Terry’s Chocolate Orange at a Weight Watchers meeting, or it’s dearer than a pint in London. Oh, and here’s a right laugh: your lucky phrase this week is “Bob’s your uncle,” which, considering the week you’re having, might turn out to be a bloody awful joke if Uncle Bob turns out to be the reason for your upcoming tax audit. Try to see the funny side, eh?

Come back tomorrow for another exciting horoscope!