All right, luv, brace yourself. This week, you’ll have to be more careful than a drunk on a unicycle. That means think before you flap your gums, not after, my dear. Some mate or fellow, more slippery than a greased weasel, is going to pull out of a deal faster than I pull out of a parking space. And thank God you’ve been as tight as a duck’s backside with your dosh, else you’d have been in more trouble than a vegan at a barbecue. You’ll be so relieved you held back, you might even give out a little toot of joy. And for your lucky bit: Your lucky number’s two. Not because it’s special, but because it’s the number of brain cells you’d have to be short of to jump into any old agreement. So, remember, two’s your limit. Any less and we’re in trouble. We wouldn’t want you to end up skint and living under a bridge now, would we?

Come back tomorrow for another exciting horoscope!