Blimey, love, you’ve got the speed of a one-legged tortoise trying to pull a double decker bus. It’s like you’ve laced up your trainers, ready to dash for the gold, only to realise you’re running on a bloody treadmill. Talk about a right royal mess! And don’t even get me started on this “team effort” malarkey. It’s like trying to organise a piss up in a brewery – and they’re all teetotallers! More restrictive than the queen’s knickers, it is. But chin up, darling! Keep plodding along, even if it feels like you’re doing the breaststroke in a vat of Marmite. Oh, and here’s a bit of a giggle for you. Your lucky item? A spork. Yes, that’s right, a spork. Because when your life’s a mix of crap and more crap, you need a utensil that can handle both.

Come back tomorrow for another exciting horoscope!