Wednesday, May 31, 2006

May 2006

Hello, my dear little Zodiac zingers! I'm back. Having chased that upstart bard Weird Alice Lancrevic back to her own overpaid corner, I've decided to do a bit of horoscopic housekeeping. You've already long since been given the lucky number, colour and fruit for each of your Signs, so this month I'm bringing you your Heavenly Letters. Hidden cunningly in each logological letterfest is a fair amount of advice from the stars above. Read on and enjoy!

The Adamant Hedgehog 21 Mar - 20 Apr

Your heavenly letter is: S

The sanguine synthesise sandalwood sabres and sterling silver sabots sell sausage sandwiches, sushi, and skewered shellfish. A soothing sabbatical satiates scholarly sages. Softly skirt stertorous septuagenarians; soft-soap senescent strangers sidestep smoggy streets for snowy southern slopes. Survey superb supernatural sites serenely. Shocking scoop: Sybil serves Sam sloppy seconds! Surly soromancers sully stylish salons.

Tip of the month: shave slowly!

Gahoolie, the Vase of Tulips 21 Apr - 21 May

Your heavenly letter is: A

Agatean alchemists, arrogantly astir, aerate arcane anhydrous aggregates. Agony Aunts arrive abreast; assassins augur abattoir activities. Archancellors, arms akimbo, affirm absolute authority. Aggressive Amazonian acrobats annoy author Anaemia Asterisk. Ankh's animal attractions: anteater, albatross, allosaurus, auk and armadillo. Attention! Ascorbic acid and alcohol aid and ameliorate aches, ague and assorted additional ailments.

Tip of the month: avoid azaleas.

Herne the Hunted 22 May - 21 Jun

Your heavenly letter is: M

Make merry in May! Marvellous month, May. Many malcontents mercilessly mock municipal maidens; malnourished minstrels' mournful madrigals mock melancholy mediums. Masterfully masticate melons meat and maraschinos. Moody? -- martially mollicate mangy missionaries. Mustn't miss meals! Marry, Mistress, many mighty midgets means minute men mount minuscule masquerades. Meanwhile, misinformed ministers monopolise mayonnaise.

Tip of the month: mistrust marmosets.

The Wizard's Staff and Knob 22 Jun - 22 Jul

Your heavenly letter is: G

Gather for gustatory gambols, gallant gourmands: garnished goose with ginger and garlic, gazpacho, giblets and gorgonzola. Gorge gluttonously on gallons of grapes; gargle glasses of grappa; gobble Gimlet's golden gelatine. Giggle, goggle, gaily grab gigantic guavas, gefilte-fish, gherkins and guacamole. Get greater garments. Gurgle. guzzle, get going, good grief.

Tip of the month: gouge grouse.

Bilious, God of Hangovers 23 Jul - 23 Aug

Your heavenly letter is: H

Hist, o hepatic hatters, hobnobbing hucksters and hamfisted Hublanders! Hie hence, o henpecked husbands, harried homemakers, haughty houris and hapless hoydens! Hark, hungover hedonists! Here's help for your hazardous hobby: holistic herbalists heal heavy hearts and huge headaches. Hazy holiday? Have hair of the hedgehog. Hogshead horrors? Hide hurts with holy honeybee hock. Heavenly!

Tip of the month: harangue hamsters.

Mubbo the Hyena 24 Aug - 23 Sept

Your heavenly letter is: O

Obey the ordained of Om. Omit obfuscation, optimise opportunities, and occlude oracles. Openly ogle Oggs owlishly. Osculate ovines outdoors; obsess overtly over olfactory oils. Obtain ornamental oarsmen, offset offside operators, orchestrate oblong ormolu ospreys and other opera-house owners. Obscenely outrange oracles; oppose oafish ostlers. Offski? One oughtta!

Tip of the month: ossify ocelots.

The Small Boring Group of Faint Stars 24 Sept - 23 Oct

Your heavenly letter is: C

Capricious causality creates cranial chaos -- cry, cringe, clamour, caterwaul! Cunningly cheat cartographical carnage; cling chastely to cowardly catatonia. Cherish companionable contentment. Cleanse cluttered closets. Crush cranberries and celery for a cooling collation. Counter crawling, creeping cephalopods and crustaceans with citronella. Compliment crocodiles, castigate centaurs, charm cheetahs. Collapsing ceiling? -- Careful!

Tip of the month: collect coelacanths.

Androgyna Majestis 24 Oct - 22 Nov

Your heavenly letter is: P

Pished? Pixillated? Piffle! Prance, primp, pirouette; procure piquant potions and phials of phantasmagorical philtres; pander preciously to palpable pecuniary peccadilloes. Promote pinkly passionate purple prose in pleasant public places. Pulchritude powers prurient pneumatic prowess on pastoral pelmets. Provable pillow pressure? -- Pull, parvenu!

Tip of the month: pamper pineapples.

Great T'Phon's Foot 23 Nov - 21 Dec

Your heavenly letter is: B

Beware Banjo, baobabs, bananananas, borzois, bold bustards, bedraggled badgers and batrachian badinage. Becalmed behind balsa banisters? Bothered by beastly banzai barristers? Bring benevolent bedbugs before bellicose beer-bellied batters. Bare bicuspids. Blushing brides: beckon benign brigadiers between benighted bedclothes. Brilliant brinksmanship buries blinkered bravoes.

Tip of the month: banish Bueller!

Hoki the Jokester 22 Dec - 20 Jan

Your heavenly letter is: F

Foppish, farthingale'd felons frighten feckless fabulists. Feisty, fruits fillies feast on frangipani, fuchsias and figgins. Frozen fjords feature fairly fallow frigates. February's fiery femur falls to fantastical febrifuges; fiddlers flay flesh from fraught fingers. Feature filial faithfulness, forsooth!

Tip of the month: fatten frogs.

The Rather Large Gazunda 21 Jan - 18 Feb

Your heavenly letter is: L

Languid libertines lecherously like lycanthropes. Lumbering laboratory lagomorphs locate Luggage. Letterheads lend lasting legitimacy. Lugubrious lawyers lambaste larrikins; local lunatics lynch licentious legislators. Lave lingerie in luminescent lye. Leopards lazily lick lemonade lollies. Love loose leather? - lubricate lederhosen!

Tip of the month: liberate Librarians.

Lesser Umbrage 19 Feb - 20 Mar

Your heavenly letter is: U

Umpteen urbane urban underwriters ululate uncannily. Upstanding uppercrust uncles upbraid ugly usurers. Ursine urgency: unbear-able urea. Unusual umpires ultimately utilise umbrella urns. Uffish umbles? - ugh! Uxorious ushers in umber ulsters use ukuleles upstairs. Unwary utopianists unleash umbrage upon unearthly ungulates' ulcerous ultramarine udders. Unruly urchins upset unique unicyclists. Unsure? Upgrade unto uranium!

Tip of the month: unite unicorns.

We Will Survive

(Cohen and the Silver Horde)

by Weird Alice Lancrevic,
with apologies to Gloria Gaynor

First we were untamed, all uncivilised
Plund'ring the Disc for jewels and temple-girls with creamy thighs
But we sacked too many sites, til Teach said, "You do it wrong"
Still, we were strong
So much stronger than Lord Hong

And so we're back, from certain Death
If we can pillage and carouse
We don't need poncy things like breath
We stole the Agateans' throne, though it was under lock and key
Then, after giving them their freedom,
Conquered Cori Ce-les-ti
We're gone but no, we haven't left
Just turn around slow
Or by a broadsword you'll be cleft
We brought fire back to the gods
And jumped off the mountainside - you think we tumbled
When there were Valkyries to ride?!

Oh no, not us, we will survive
As long as we can swing a sword
We will keep the myth alive
We've got loincloths, we've got power, we've got virgins to deflower
And we'll survive, we will survive.

It took all the strength we had to defeat the gods
We tricked 'em good with rotten fish and brazened out the odds
Since Vena spent so many nights
Just knitting chain mail 'for the boys'
We slice and strut (that's just Hamish, yelling "WHUT?")
And you'll see Cohen, Old Vincent too
Caleb and Truckle and Boy Willie, charging down on you
We'll come to save (and wreck) the day
We won't politely fade away
There are thrones yet to be trodden
See, we're still dogs in our day

Oh yes, that's us, we will survive
As long as Discworld needs its heroes, the Silver Horde will thrive
We've got chutzpah, we've got guts
We've got Hamish, yelling "WHUT?!"
And we'll survive
We will survive
We will sur- "WHUT?"