Life’s a right bleeding shambles, innit? You’re bobbing about like a blindfolded duck in a bathtub. Keep your peepers on the prize and your loaf of bread firmly on terra firma, or you’ll end up face-first in a cowpat, metaphorically speaking, of course. Don’t just sit there thinking you can charm the trousers off success just by wishing on a bleedin’ star. Buck up, get real, and grab life by the bollocks. And here’s a little lucky something for you: “Seven”. It’s your lucky number. Use it for your next lottery ticket. If you wind up a millionaire, remember to thank your brutally honest horoscope. After all, I’m worth at least a pint or two.

Come back tomorrow for another exciting horoscope!