Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals! It’s the festive season and Mags is feeling merry, drinking sherry, and getting lairy, so it’s time for this month’s ho-ho-horoscopes. So sit down, grab a mince pie, and read on to see what December has in store for you.
Snow is falling all around, or is that dandruff? The white Christmas is supposed to stay outside and your library neighbours are starting to complain. Honestly Aries, yes it’s the end of the semester but that doesn’t mean you can forfeit showering. Pick up the shampoo you manky clatbag.
You can pretend you’re walking in a winter wonderland on the first snowy day Taurus, but don’t forgot that the Slippery Days of Death are close behind. We all know you’re liable to trip so wear extra padding on your backside, knees, hands and head. In fact, just wear one of those bubble balls 24/7. It’ll become a trend, trust me.
Exams have passed and it actually snows; the perfect kind of snow only seen in super cheesy Christmas movies, so you make the most of it and build a snowman. Parson Brown stops by and for some reason questions your marital status, like it’s a prerequisite for snowperson construction. You tell him your relationship status is none of his business, nosey bastard.
Working in the run up to Christmas does wonders for getting you into the festive mood, to the extent that you start quoting classic Yuletide songs to customers. “You scumbag, you maggot…”
Boasting about handing in essays ahead of time will win you no friends Leo, but then again greatness is always greeted with jealousy at first – look at Rudolph. On the other hand, Rudolph wasn’t as much of a wank as you are.
Tis the season – for you to stop being a little bitch Virgo. Stop whining about how many deadlines you have and just drink through it like the rest of us.
The weather outside is frightful Libra, in case you hadn’t noticed – the sun hasn’t been spotted in over three weeks and it seems the long night to end all nights has finally come (about time, tbh). Stay in bed this month. Improvise a catheter. Develop bed sores. Yolo.
It’s a bit of a surprise to arrive home for the Christmas break to find your mum kissing Santa Claus, particularly as you haven’t seen your mum since you were 5, and also because Santa looks a lot like Danny DeVito. Don’t question it, must be a Christmas miracle.
Last Christmas you might have given your heart away to someone who didn’t deserve it, but don’t just jump on the next set of bones you see. Romantic love is simply a distraction from the crushing realities of capitalism. This year, give your heart to class consciousness.
Your birthday is fast approaching, so don’t miss any opportunities to remind people that Jesus isn’t the only one having a party. Yes, every year you have to play second fiddle to the big guy but not this time – pick a day to have as your death day and ask for presents then as well. If Jesus can do it, you can too.
Do you see what I see? Deadlines, deadlines all around. Now is the time to consider relocating to Lapland and getting a job as an underpaid and exploited elf – your odds of success there are greater than the chance of you passing this year, I’m afraid.
Hark the Herald Angels sing: “Let’s do shots of tequila!” As you throw up all that eggnog and mulled wine, you realise that the angels are a bunch of cunts.