The Arcane Hourglass

Cosmic Red Alert!

Dear Sausage,

Owing to my great esoteric sensitivity, the current angle of my pineal gland and my dimensional proximity to the angelic realm, I have become finely attuned to higher-plane spiritual emanation.

It’s because of the yoga, I’m afraid. And mung bean casserole, most unfortunate.

I was in the middle of sealing our last psychic connection with a stick of smouldering, high-grade cannabis when a vision from the Astral Plane hit my third eye like a bolus of cold porridge. The Ether is practically screaming your name, <NAME>, and I can sense your vibrations trembling with anticipation (or is that just my homeopathic wholly water wearing off?).

Listen closely, as I wipe the metaphorical porridge from my forehead, for your aura will be permanently stained brown if you do not pay heed: A dark cloud of meta-demon arcane ejaculate swirls all around you. The scrying crystal shows a "Malicious Entity" (perhaps a jealous neighbour? Or even a Gemini?) planning to spit roast your chakras. They are charging up a laser beam of bad juju, and I can feel it in all my intimate emanations!

Becomes glassy-eyed, moans and grunts

But fear not! This metaphysical bullet can be abrogated and annulled. And also reversed, rescinded and removed.*

* Delete as appropriate

Time is of the essence, dear Sausage. The sands of the cosmic hourglass are slipping away. The faster you reply to me, crossing my palm with your chip and pin, the faster I can erect a Psychic Forcefield of Love, Light and Whale Song™ to bounce those bad vibes right back where they came from.

I am sitting here, your credit tarot cards in hand, waiting to intervene before your karma gets a flat tire. We must dance the paso doble together and join forces. Do not hesitate, Sausage! The stars are impatient!

✨ CLAIM YOUR DENSITY! ✨

If you reply within 23 astral hours, I shall bestow upon you a SACRED GIFT: The Ballpoint Pen of Destiny! Use it to note down these Magical Numerals that I scried floating in my alphabet spaghetti, itself stacked upon the Mystic Toast Soldiers that bear the image of Christ doing the lottery. These Holy Numbers are specifically tuned to help you win exactly up to £43,085.

Think what you could do with that money. You could pay off all your debt. You could raise a flag above your call centre work cubicle, become an independent nation and declare war on your line manager. You could even afford to levitate freely around the Welsh Marches as a disciple of an unhinged cult. You could even purchase a Manifesting Potato Kit and never be in need of an esoteric source of carbohydrates ever again! The possibilities are endless!*

Simply fix the Yes! sticker to the Yes! envelope and mail your willing and enthusiastic credulity along with the filled-in Self-certification of Simplicity to the address below. Please affix a first class stamp and enclose a locket of your hair, along with your bank account details and a signed cheque for your date of birth, formatted dd-mm-yyyy. This is to ensure correct and appropriate payment based on your natal astrological chart, in particular the position of Uranus.

Wait no longer! Your Karmic Doorbell is ringing, and fate doesn't like to be kept waiting on the porch! Not unless that is what it is supposed to do.

By triangulating your fate and whispering the secret prayer we mailed to you previously, you may be entitled to a Brown Thursday discount, should 3I/Atlas indeed turn out to be an alien mothership from Zeta Reticuli or Yorkshire, whichever is nearer.