Auntie Doris’s Tarot Card of the Week #31: The Seven of Wands: 2nd-8th June 2014

They used to call some blokes “cocks” when I was young. They were the sort of blokes that nobody wanted to mess with. The toughest lad in the school. The hardest man in the neighbourhood. The “cock of the walk”. In my experience they usually ended up covering themselves with tattoos whilst they were smoking themselves into an early grave, but thats just my opinion. In fact they were harping back to the theory of evolution and herds of lions gorillas and all those sorts of creatures. When you watch nature programmes on the telly, Richard Attenborough is always on about mating rituals (the filthy so and so) where the males fight each other for the right to have carnal relations with all the females in the herd. That made sure that all the kiddies who were born had the fittest and strongest dad to inherit their characteristics from.
Thank the ruddy Lord that that doesn’t go on with humans these days. People like my Raymond would never get a ruddy look in! And it’s all right all the women in the neighbourhood getting to have carnal relations with the strongest and fittest man, but he is going to be too busy sewing his ruddy seeds to get any jobs done around the house or anything else useful. And My Raymond used to do precious little enough around the house as it was, if I had refused him his congregational rights, he would have done even less. But under that system, if I had let him have his way with me, he would have upset the cock of the walk and probably had to have a fight with him, and he would never have had a Cat in Hell’s chance, not with his platelet count being as low as it was any road.
Anyway, that’s what the seven of wands is all about. The king of the castle there has a good stout wand, with life springing out of the end of it and all along its shaft, and he has probably been having carnal relations left right and centre. But he has some stiff competition. There’s six other blokes waiting to prod him into submission with their big long wands, and take his place. What with him at the top of the hill getting it all, they are probably ruddy sex starved, and desperate for a piece of the action themselves. They’re not going to be satisfied with fiddling with themselves forever.
These days, they say there’s someone for everyone, so there’s no need for all that “cock of the walk” malarkey, and a ruddy good thing too. Otherwise the genetic stock of the whole country would be biased towards producing males who with a propensity to cover themselves in tattoos and smoke themselves into an early grave. And vote for ruddy silly right wing parties. (Ohh dear! It isn’t… Is it?)
Four things that you might do this week: (i) watch a nature programme on the television, and thank your lucky stars that you don’t have to spend all your life fighting and having carnal relations and being eaten by bigger creatures than you. (ii) stop smoking and getting tattoos for just one week. Then donate all the money you save to UNICEF or someone (iii) Be gentle, never mind waving staffs about and getting all excited. Listen to some Barry White. He never had to go fighting and carrying on so that he could have carnal relations, he just had to lay down a few tracks with the Love Unlimited Orchestra, and the women were queuing up to get to know him better. (iv) Have a serious think about your position regarding ruddy silly right wing parties, and the ruddy silly idiots who reckon on to support them. You know who they are, if you can’t make them see sense, then don’t waste the time of day on them.
Advertisements

You are allowed to comment... I don't ruddy bite, you know...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s