Crystal Baws: January 2013 Horoscopes

ARIES
This month a fully-operational Death Star moves into your chart while searching out remaining Rebel bases in the Hoth system, inadvertently detecting the planet which governs Aries hopes and ambitions. Despite its barren surface being completely inhospitable to life, a malfunctioning probe droid reports Rebel activity and the order is given for the moon-sized Imperial battle station to obliterate your dreams with its superlaser.

TAURUS
Unlike the bull, this month you get sectioned under the Mental Health Act.

GEMINI
You finally give in and buy your dog the squeaky toy of his dreams: an inflatable rubber bitch with removable dishwasher-safe genital cavities.

CANCER
Like the crab you are incapable of love and thrive in a saltwater environment.

LEO
You allow your unmuzzled spirit animal off its leash so it can run free in a field of moon-beams but it unexpectedly goes radge and mauls a toddler, leaving the authorities no choice but to have it destroyed.

VIRGO
January is mating season for Virgoans. If you wish to produce a new Virgoan in nine months time, uncork your libido like an F1 driver on the winning podium, drenching you and your teammates in the foamy liquid spray of victory!

LIBRA
This month I read your aura and give it a scathing review.

SCORPIO
Leaving your bulging colostomy rucksack on the bus causes a terrorist alert and the police destroy it in a controlled explosion.

SAGITTARIUS
Paying your landlord in handjobs has got you this far, but when the rent goes up you’re forced to seek Housing Benefit. The council agree to backdate the handjobs, yet won’t pay your landlord directly. You’ll have to collect them first. The delay in payment angers your landlord so your dad, being the guarantor, gets a bus down from Aberdeen to deliver the 50 outstanding handjobs himself. 

CAPRICORN
Your next door neighbour unveils plans for an extension to your property including 18ft barbed wire fences, a gun tower and barbaric scientific apparatus for studying humans.

AQUARIUS
After years of believing everything you read on the internet, your critical faculties have fallen into atrophy and you have your brain amputated and replaced with a Chinese waving lucky cat ornament.

PISCES
It never occurred to you that building a gigantic aquarium full of scuba divers for your daughter’s 7th birthday would be so fraught with difficulties. She becomes particularly attached to one young diver called Hans Schneider who delights her by always tapping on the glass and pointing at his watch. Finding him floating at the top of the tank the next morning, you are forced to trawl the diving spots near your Mediterranean home for an unsuspecting replacement.