Why the future is not written in the stars.

Astrology is a curious artform. Is it an artform? I’m not sure. Oh, wikipedia is saying it is. Then it must be. Basically these people, astrologers they like to call themselves.. who will usually have grey, unbrushed wispy locks, be slightly overweight and wear too much jewellery “believe that the movements and positions of celestial bodies either directly influence life on Earth or correspond to events experienced on a human scale” (States Wikipedia - therefore fact.) I feel sceptical about this. No, actually I think its a load of old tripe dreamt up by someone presumably on some kind of narcotic (or several) who held some sort of importance at the time (long ago.. like in stonehenge times I reckon) thus attracted believers. I expect this is the reason why we are now faced with cretins like Russell Grant, fat pyschic extraordinaire, telling us what will happen to us today in a vague yet opinionated manner. 

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Wheel of Fortune?

The thing which baffles me about horoscopes and other completely make believe pyschic ‘artforms’ is that I know, absolutely definitely for certain and for sure, that they are not true.  They are the ramblings of a middle aged human being with no sixth sense and too many crystals. So why do I always read them? Whenever sat in a doctors surgery or a dentists, or any other waiting-based activity faced with a tired looking magazine the likelihood is that I will have a sneaky peek at the predictions for this month, hoping it will tell of good fortune, love and success. Usually it does, but shortly afterwards I am forced to confront the reality that I am no more likely to win the lottery this month, whether the fat psychic tells me that Mars is in a good place right now or not. 

Horoscopes occupy the last page of just about every bubblegum coloured magazine on sale. I recently purchased a copy of Grazia. I don’t usually buy this because it has a kind of One Show like quality in that it goes.. heres some lovely shoes, a nice jacket, pictures of a few emaciated models in unimaginably expensive clothing and.. Oh! The next pages feature a graphic report on “the horror of the British cutting parties,” a frankly disturbing article on female genital mutilation. This puts me on edge. I just wanted a magazine for my waiting-based activity (long car journey) but you are showing me scary things that make me cross my legs. You are a magazine, Grazia, you are not newsnight. Know your place. (This is true. In the August issue of Grazia. Have a look, in your local newsagent. Don’t buy it though. It’s horrid.) Once I had got over the horror stories amidst the fashion news I had a little look at what to expect for this month, according to the church of balderdash. It said this, “Instead of being embarrassed that you’re in a position to make some money, remind yourself that others will benefit from it too.”  I am still awaiting this promised cheque. I can safely say no one has benefitted from it as yet, seen as it hasn’t arrived and never will, but if it does I’ll be sure to donate to the flood victims of Pakistan, or something.


Yesterday my horoscope said to me, “your partner will turn on you if you aren’t sensitive to him or her.” This is a threat. It might as well have been written out of cut up newspaper clippings. What does Russell Grant know about my partner? And what about all the Gemini’s who are single? They must’ve been angry about Mr Grant’s mistake.

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Russell Grant: Regard. He is fat, and a pyschic.

The names of star signs confuse me. My birthday is in May, which makes me a Gemini. This is fortunate because I’d be worried if I was a cancer. However, Gemini is apparently ‘the sign of the twins’. Throughout my childhood I took this to mean that I was a twin, seperated at birth, and spent more time than I should have searching for half a locket that I presumed my parents had hidden, in order that I might be presented with it on my 18th birthday. This also supported a personal theory that I had been adopted. I couldn’t possibly get my head around being any sort of blood relative of my darling brother. Parent trap only confirmed my suspicions. I watched it several times so  that when the time came for me to meet my twin, I would be prepared.

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The Russell Grant game. Really?

Descriptions of personality traits typical to star signs are fantastic. Mine says, “the people who were born in this period are widely known for their dual personalities and ability to change mood from moment to moment.” You are saying I have different moods? Goodness gracious, I do have different moods! Sometimes happy, sometimes sad, angry on occasion. You’ve read me like a book. Call me a cab, I must be off to worship at the church of balderdash forthright! 


The only thing better than having your personality explained according to your star sign is that advert on MTV where a slutty girl (yes, I can tell by her voice) orders you to text your star sign and your partner’s star sign to a premium rate number. In return said slutty girl promises to predict the future of your relationship based entirely on... nothing. I think after that you are bombarded with texts which you pay for and they take all your phone credit away, leaving you poverty stricken, possibly homeless, but safe in the knowledge that you and your partner are definitely compatible and will be together forever and for always. Amen. 

Whatever happened to Mystic Meg anyway?

From Alexandra