Listen up, you’re wound tighter than a girdle on a Baptist minister’s wife at an all-you-can-eat pancake breakfast! Your nearest and dearest wouldn’t know peace and calm if it smacked them in the face, so they’re bloody gobsmacked by your jittery demeanour. It’s like you’ve got ants in your pants, or more scandalously, a rampant rabbit on the blink. There’s some kind of kerfuffle brewing in that noggin of yours, causing all sorts of a flap! You’re acting like a cat on a hot tin roof, or a British politician caught in a lie, but it seems your spidey senses are tingling, and you reckon there’s a shift in the wind. Lucky charm: A pair of old, unwashed socks. Keep ’em under your pillow for good luck. Although, the smell might explain why you’re not getting any, if you catch my drift!

Come back tomorrow for another exciting horoscope!