Black: Despite your pleasant, outgoing manner and innate generosity of spirit, people continue to suspect that you are directly related to Satan.

Blonde: See the dog. See him run. Run, dog, run!

Bleach blonde: You continue to fool no-one. As you dance round your handbag this Friday, a man will touch your bottom and pretend it was an accident. It wasn’t.

Strawberry blonde: See Ginger.

Brunette: An uneventful week lies ahead, except for Thursday, when you will choke to death on a wasp which flies into your mouth while you are rock-climbing in Wales.

Ginger: A new era dawns on Saturday when the entire world stops mocking the majority of ginger people, choosing to focus all their efforts on Chris Evans in a white-hot-intensity laser-beam of unnecessary cruelty. But you’ll still be ginger.

Grey: Tomorrow won’t be like the old days, when you could do whatever the hell it was you people used to do and still have change for the bus fare home.

Bald: Calamity at the weekend when top scientists announce that baldness has got fuck all to do with virility. Resist the syrup.