These are the precise words I would use if a person were to enquire “So Mel, what do you make of all this horoscope malarkey”. Of course this is just my opinion and I am quick to point out this is not the opinion of Flirtomatic or any of its staff, family, friends or pets. It is I alone who considers it a load of old balls.

Here’s why.

My sister is obsessed with it. She can’t go a single day without checking at least four or five different horoscopes. For her they are a matter of life or death.

Last year some ridiculous mystic predicted, “An email from a stranger will bring you financial joy”. In a state of excitement the silly old tart responded to every one of those daft ‘congratulations you are a winner – now please send us your bank details’ cons for weeks. Financial joy? No chance. The contents of her bank account was emptied into the pocket of some dodgy overseas crook and she had to survive on Monster Munch sandwiches for a month.

Did this stop her? Did it chuff.

She even allows her romantic life to be guided by these star gazing morons.

If she meets a chap and, horror of horrors, his star sign is ‘incompatible’ with hers she’ll toss him aside like a used cotton-bud without so much as a second look. It’s ludicrous.

For the past few months she has been seeing Matt, a full-on top-draw guy. Fit as a fiddle, funny as a banana skin and, miraculously, his being a Leo means that they will be forever harmonious in love. Apparently.

We all thought it was going like a dream until one fateful morning when, over her boiled egg and soldiers, she noted that her horoscope read…

“Beware a man in brown trousers”

That was it, her defences were up. As far as she was concerned, were she to run into this gent instant death – or a similar misfortune – was certain to occur.

She checked out the postman, our dad, the bus driver. No brown trousers to avoid there. At work her eyes observed the pantaloons of each and every colleague, but nothing. It wasn’t until she walked into a bar to meet Matt and spotted immediately that he had chosen to don a pair of brown slacks that the penny dropped. That was that. She didn’t even take another step inside. Spinning on her heels she legged it and never spoke to our hero Matt ever again.

What a total pleboid.

I reckon we make our own luck in this world. Oh sure, there are some external factors that can’t be ignored or avoided, but for the most part it’s the way we think and behave as individuals that determines the direction our lives take.

There’s no point in sitting on our backsides relying on some idiot in a headscarf to look into her crystal ball to tell us when our own personal Johnny McHandsome will come striding in. We need to get out there, binoculars strapped firmly to our peepers and actively look for the perfect chap to tweak our twinkles.

Or am I just making up another reason to flirt outrageously with each and every man I meet? Perhaps. But do I care? Hmmmmmm……..nope, not a bit!

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