Madame B - Episode 5

First Published: 16 January 2004 10:28

"Bumper Update From The Woman Who Knows Everything - Apart From When to Stop Drinking"

Good morning, believers

I must begin with a bit of good news; Mme B has made a complete recovery. Firstly, from the serious cranial injuries sustained by the golf club that was wrapped around her head by a mystery assailant early in December, the alcohol deprivation that she was cruelly put through whilst she was she was in said coma, and predicting things that will actually happen.

Saying that she had made a complete recovery is an understatement, as she has reached uncharted new levels of drunkenness, abuse and disgusting personal hygiene. She has also been blessed with the ability to divine our futures with the technique of reading the tallow cards. These are different to Tarot cards, because they are made completely from cow fat.

I have asked her to ask the spirits for good fortune for my withered hands, as the new skin that was growing split whilst I was walking to the building, with an almighty swear. I asked for a saucy lady dermatologist to be expedited to me. 

So, without further ado, with a round of warm applause, please welcome back Mme B, with her first set of sensible stars from Birmingham...aided by animal by-products.

Virgo

Welcome back, Virgo. You have been mentally away on business for too long, and deserve you let your hair down over the weekend. Visit your local off-licence and put them out of business, and while you are there, think about your favourite astrologer. Venus in the ascendant of the house of Vauxhall means that the following will revolve entirely around cow fat. Steer clear of the animals that have been grazing in your spare room, as they may turn nasty. Pick up the courage to finally learn a martial art, and once you have, half-volley a tramp into a shop window.

Gemini

Fate brings you into contact with a large number of essential pamphlets and leaflets this weekend, and the sight of a doctor's surgery has never been more welcomed. This will be the fourth time in two days that you require emergency medical attention, as a re-discovered child's chemistry set proves too exciting to leave alone. Do not eat all of the Caesium. You will explode. In your downtime, you will uncover a desire for Bagpuss, and by Monday you will be an expert in the adventures of the saggy cloth cat. Involve a few friends in a saucy game, Buckaroo HP. Make your friends see you in a new light, by smashing all of their lights and demanding that they put new ones in.

Capricorn

The Gods of fate insist you have a less violent weekend than the previous 200 or so. The locals just cannot feel safe with you in this mood. Turn over a new leaf, by pulling a leaf from a hedge and rotating it 180 degrees anti-clockwise. Saturn makes a right mess in your kitchen. John Cleese turns up at your house-party and is crestfallen when nobody talks about Fawlty Towers. Enrol in a course that teaches you essential skills, like rock climbing, shepherding, practical nuclear physics or arc-welding. A film about equality inspires you to employ a cat as your mechanic.

Scorpio

Scorpy. You cad! As the moon is in the house of Asparagus, you are destined to go into a club, smile at the first woman you see and promptly get it on with her. Thankfully, involvement from the bouncers stop it going any further, and after gentle pleading, the cloakroom attendant will not be pressing charges. Luck sees you win 15 driving lessons, even though you passed your test in 1976. If it is your birthday, then sadly you have been reading the wrong star-sign. Fortune favours the brave, and you realise this after hinding behind the setee for the best part of twelve hours. Daleks are not real. Mars sinks a bit, under the weight of all the probes on it. This causes you to have a massive outbreak of acne.

Libra

A woman dressed in black will intimidate and humiliate you this weekend, although it's ok because you paid good money for it. A strongly worded letter from HM Government will land on your doorstep, advising you in the strongest possible terms that you are to no-longer send soiled underwear to selected members of the cabinet. Even though they look forward to it plopping through their letterbox. Yes, we have no bananas. Gordon Ramsay will cook for you, but you will be disgusted by it. To console him, you buy him pie and chips from across the road. He cries. Fate makes you buy a tonne of cow fat.

And with a huge sigh, Mme B breaks wind for ten minutes. On closer inspection, she is playing the Romanian national anthem. And as I look through the 'bumper book of national anthems', she disappears into the setting sun, even though it's well before midday.

I'm sure we will hear from her again, but it may be a while.

Keep the faith