Listen up love, you’ll need to hike up your knickers, puff out your chest and bellow like a randy stag if you hope to be noticed in this madhouse of a workplace. The only way to survive in this hellhole, sweeter than a tea party with the Queen, is to trumpet louder than a constipated elephant. Now, about those tittle-tattles buzzing around the neighbourhood, ignore ’em all. They’re as reliable as a chocolate teapot in a sauna! Your lucky phrase this week is “Bobs your uncle”, and no, I don’t mean your creepy Uncle Bob who smells like a wet dog and old cheese. Say it while tightrope walking across the Thames — it’s as useful as a chocolate fireguard, but at least it’ll put a grin on your mug!

Come back tomorrow for another exciting horoscope!