It’s Monday morning and the paper’s a bit thin, the crossword’s finished and I’m thumbing through idly looking for anything to keep me from a pile of washing-up. I must admit I’ve never been much of a horoscope fan; as a breed, astrologers have always struck me as a bit of an odd bunch, churning out predictions based on the activities of heavenly bodies and their effects on our daily doings. Nothing definite mark you! But subtle hints at what might or might not happen to Librans, Taureans et al. They don’t have the fluidity of language that politicians and real estate agents enjoy, but the subtext is much the same, ‘There’s a bit of truth inside the message if you can just find it’.

Today’s offerings are as bland as usual, apparently no-one out there is destined to get run over by a bus or buy a winning Lotto ticket. In fact, apart from a bit of astral titivation, we’ll be in just the same nick when we read tomorrow’s planetary placebos. Should one mock? Millions of people rely on this stuff for daily guidance, so it must have something to offer. But surely a couple of questions can’t hurt can they?

Do they consult each other on an earthly plane? As in ‘I’ve got Virgo down for a crappy day, what have you got?’ Do they have performance reviews and a disciplinary code? What would happen if Madam Zsa Zsa failed to predict an outbreak of dog bitings aimed at Scorpios? Is there a sort of ‘Zodiac superstore’ they can visit if they get soothsayer’s block? Finally, on a personal note, I was born on September 18th 1941. Will I find happiness being ‘on the cusp’ or ‘in my cups’?