Oi, listen up, you bleary-eyed bedhead. The moment you stumble out of your pit, a lightbulb brighter than Blackpool Illuminations will flash above your noggin. It’s got the answer to all your office woes and it’s begging the question, “Why the bloody hell didn’t this pop into your thick skull before?” Now, you’ll be smashing through your to-do list quicker than a granny on a mobility scooter, leaving the evening free for you to sit on your arse, smug as a bug, chuffed with your own brilliance. And here’s a bit of luck for you: Your lucky item is a spork. Why? Because it’s just as confused about its identity as you are, but still manages to be bloody useful. So, keep that spork close, mate. It’s the only thing handling more crap than you, and still smiling!

Come back tomorrow for another exciting horoscope!