Psychic Jim's Horoscopes for August 2025

This month you will find yourself in your attic. It’s quite an unusual place to find yourself. Most people go to some sort of wilderness retreat if they want to find themselves, or a remote island, or a hike up the Himalayas. But the only place you’re hiking up is the ladder to your loft. While you’re up there finding yourself, you’ll also spot a box. The word “Tosort” will be written on it. You’re not sure what a tosort is, but there’s only way to find out. You must open Pandora’s Box. Why you’d want to open Pandora’s box and not the tosort box is a mystery, but you’re also a mystery. Anyway, you’ll eventually get around to the tosort box, and in it you will find a copy of the TV Times from Christmas 1994, a Sega Master System with a bag of games such as Enduro Racer, Fantasy Zone and Out Run, an instruction manual to a toaster, and a gravy boat. But below all of that is your collection of cassette tapes. Now, back in the early 2000s, you were a huge fan of Pop Idol. So much so, that you have cassettes of all its greatest stars. There’s Will Young’s ‘Evergreen’, Gareth Gates’ ‘Spirit in the Sky’, Rik Waller’s ‘From Now…’ album, Michelle McManusususes’ ‘All This Time’, and Jessica Garlick’s ‘Come Back’, famous for being the UK’s third-placed 2002 Eurovision entry. But your prize possession is your Girls Aloud versus One True Voice centrepiece. You were Team One True Voice, and for every one copy of ‘Sound of the Underground’ you own, you have five copies of ‘Sacred Trust’. Yep, in your head, this battle for chart supremacy outranked The Beatles versus The Rolling Stones, Take That versus East 17, Blur versus Oasis. Ok, so that actually took place on Popstars: The Rivals, not Pop Idol, but nobody’s reading these horoscopes for their accuracy, are they? Time may have moved on, but your anger hasn’t. You’ll grab all 16 copies of ‘Sound of the Underground’, throw them down your loft hole and flush them down your toilet. It’ll be a strange, yet cleansing, afternoon.

You often consider yourself to be a glass half-full kind of person. You see the positive rather than the negative in any given situation. The good rather than the bad. The Big Mac rather than the Whopper. The Kate Middleton rather than the Meghan Markle. But, why not be a glass full kind of person instead? Why settle for half-measures? Go all in. Yes, that’s right, grab the bull by the balls and don’t let go. Be that annoying person at work that seems to think everything is going amazingly well even though the business is falling apart. Who cares that you’ve not been paid your wages for months. At least you still have a chair at work, and a notepad and a stub of pencil. Your team may have been relegated consecutively for the last four years, but you’re still adamant that they’ll turn it around and win the cup final next year (see how I deliberately left that vague enough so it could apply to any sport, and any cup final – yes, I’m also doing proper astrology now). Your partner may have been cheating on you for the last three years, but, what does that matter? It just means that you can enjoy your microwave lasagne and watch Homes Under The Hammer without being disturbed. Yep, be positive. Actually, it’s not being positive, is it? It’s being deluded. Hmmm, maybe that’s why it’s better to be a glass half-full kind of person. The bit that isn’t full is actually the space that you need to allow yourself to remain open to the possibility of the other stuff. Ooooh, somehow I subconsciously came up with a philosophical epiphany. I need a lie down.

According to whoever wrote The Bible (John, James, Jack, George, Bungle?), there was a bloke called Noah who built a boat large enough to fit two of each of all of the world’s animals into it. It was operated by Royal Caribbean and called Zoo of the Seas. Oh course, being a Gemini, you are a pair of twins, so you would have been a perfect candidate to go onto Zoo of the Seas. Unfortunately, Noah’s boat was built in olden times, way before you were born, so you wouldn’t have got a ticket anyway. It wouldn’t have been worth it, seeing as the Almighty had a temper tantrum and flooded the world, which would have cancelled any on-shore excursions that you’d booked. Instead, you will decide to book a cruise on another ship instead. Something modern that doesn’t smell as much of animal crap. But, as you are two people inside one body, you’ll have conflicting opinions about it, as demonstrated in your Trip Advisor review. As I’m psychic, I’ve already read it. It will read as such: “Ship was lovely, very glitzy. Felt like I’d entered the Strictly Come Dancing dressing room. Never seen something so tacky. Food beautiful, tasted of cat vomit and meant I was unwell for two days. Smoothest seas I've ever sailed on, ship never stopped rocking. Went for a spa treatment, really relaxing. Masseur left me in agony for weeks. Couldn’t get a seat at the buffet, it was too busy. Just the way I like it, standing in a crowd with a tray of cakes and pizza slices and pasta. Perfection. Asked to see the Captain. What a top gent. Smelt of pickled onions and had an awful attitude. Great navigator though. Drove ship into an iceberg, sank the vessel. Can’t wait for my next cruise on this ship. Will never return again. I’d leave no stars if I could. 5 out of 5.”

This month you will attend a child’s birthday party with one of the younglings in your life. It could be a son, daughter, niece, nephew or grandchild. Just pick a child and take them. Actually, don’t. That’s kind of wrong. No, the mini person will have been invited, you’re just going along as an apparently responsible adult on supervisory duties. Anyway, kids’ birthday parties aren’t really your thing, so you’ll spend most of it trying to avoid having to interact with hyperactive little people in Fortnite tops, fuelled up on ICEE Slushies and throwing foam balls from the soft play area at your face. Some will ask you if you know where they’ve put their shoes, others will tug on your legs with their sticky fingers and tell you they feel sick. Your contribution to the party was to make some jelly. Sadly, you left it a little late and it hasn’t fully set. You’ll bring it in, present it to the table, and say proudly and kind of inappropriately, “I don't think you're ready for this jelly,” and then start talking about your body being bootylicious babe. You’ll be sent out of the party room to think about what you’ve done. You’ll shortly be joined by Jayden who thought it’d be funny to pour an entire jug of orange juice over the chicken nuggets. While in exile from the party room, It’ll give you an opportunity to try to win a dodgy fitness watch from a claw machine, although this opportunity will result in inevitable disappointment, and annoyance when you realise you could probably have bought one from Wish for the £50 you’ve just put into it. After two hours, the party will be over, you’ll get a goody bag with a party popper, yo-yo that doesn’t work, and the thinnest slice of cake imaginable. And know that you’ll never get those two hours of your August Saturday afternoon back.

This month you will attempt to make a stool. It’s kind of a fancy way to say you’ll try to have a crap, but you like being different and say things in fancy ways. Wait there, sorry, your ruling planet, the Sun says that-, hang about! You’re ruled by the Sun?? That’s not a planet. That’s a star. It’s no wonder that you think you’re the centre of everything. Anyway, the Sun says that he wasn’t talking about your lavatorial activities. He was talking about the fact that you’ll actually attempt to make a stool. A wooden one. Out of wood. Now, unless you happen to be a carpenter (know any good songs about rainy days and mondays?) you haven’t woodworked since you went to school which was ages ago. Or it wasn’t. It kind of depends on how old you actually are. So, you’ll get a few bits of wood together – elm wood is apparently good – and saw them up into shapes that make stool parts. There will be a flat square bit for the, erm, roof. You know, the top of the stool. I’m not sure what it’s called so roof will do. You’ll also saw some long leg-shaped parts for the stool’s legs. And also some bits to go in between the legs to stabilise them. The Sun, help me out here. What are those called? Is it a butt joint? Insert unnecessary childish comment about bottoms here. Well, whatever they’re called, you’ll make some of those too. You’ll hammer, glue, nail and screw all of the pieces together and hold your newly bodged stool together. Yes, bodged is an actual woodworking term, you’ll be pleased to know. It’s probably not used in the correct context here but we’ll pretend it is. As many a carpenter who thinks he’s a chef might say, “the proof is in the pudding.” And the pudding is proven by you sitting on the seat (ah! That’s what it is. It’s not a roof) of your stool. You’ll sit on it, it’ll collapse and you’ll fall to the floor. The lesson? Make sure you know what you’re doing before you actually do it. Or do what I do when I’m writing these horoscopes - make it up as you go along and hope for the best.

Being a Virgo, you’re a bit of a clean freak. You love nothing more than scrubbing, washing, polishing, wiping, disinfecting, laundering, mopping and hosing downing. Unfortunately, your house isn’t large enough for you to do all of the cleaning you desire. So, what you’ll do to get your fix this August is book a different Airbnb for each night on the month. You’ll travel up and down the country to random properties and second homes, armed with your box of Minky delights, with the sole intention of cleaning them. You’ll scrub in Skegness, wash in Wales (the whole country – it’s mostly sheep), polish in Poland, wipe in Wigan, disinfect in Diss, launder in London, mop in Morecambe, and hose down in Hoddesdon. But, your efforts may be in vain. Some of the properties will be treated like somebody else’s home by future guests, who’ll do things like smear pizzas on the walls and spill drinks on the carpets, rendering your cleaning activities pointless. Others will actually cause you to get complaints from the Airbnb hosts, moaning that you’ve reduced their rustic country cottage to something resembling a spaceship, or a hospital. Or both. Yes, apparently dirt and grime added to its lived-in charm. It will be, in fact, a rather thankless task. However, you may discover a solution to your woes, a way for you to fulfil your desire to clean, and also a method to earn some extra money. You could become a cleaner! Quite why the idea’s never hit you before, I don’t know. But, it’ll hit you in August. And your dreams will become a reality.

Being a Libra, you have a tendency to be a bit of a people pleaser. This can be both a blessing and a curse. For example, it's a blessing because it causes people to like you. Nobody's not going to not like somebody who will do anything they ask them to do. Yep, that sentence may be awful, but grammatically it's correct so it's staying. The curse side of your people-pleasing tendency is that it could lead you to do things you don't particularly want to do. Case in point: while enjoying a coffee in your local coffee house this August, somebody might call out to you, "Hey," thinking that your name is Hey. It could be. I don’t know, I’m an astrologer, not a, erm, psychic. Ummm... They will then ask "Do you mind watching my laptop while I go to the toilet?" Of course you won't mind. You’re a people pleaser. It’s in your blood. You'll remain seated, kind of proud that you must look trustworthy, and you’ll take your laptop-watching duties extra-seriously. But, after half an hour of being a laptop guardian, its owner won't have returned. They're either having a massive crap (or, as we’re now calling it, creating a massive stool), or they've fallen down the toilet, or possibly into some kind of mystery vortex. Either way, it means you'll be late for your nail appointment and faced with a dilemma. Should you abandon the laptop and potentially let down the toilet-dwelling, stool-crapping, vortex-visiting escapee? If you do, it might even result in the theft of the laptop? Could you assign the responsibility to somebody else? But who? You’re a rubbish judge of character – that’s why you say yes to everybody – impish or admirable. Do you knock on the toilet door? What if someone else is in there? You don't want to upset them. Just how long is acceptable to wait? Apparently, 90 minutes. After an hour and a half, the laptop owner will return from wherever they’ve been, casually pick up their laptop, and walk out. No sign of thanks, no sign of gratitude, not even a look of acknowledgement. And just what were they doing for 90 minutes? You’ll never know. But one thing you do need to know is that you need to learn how to say no. And that's my lesson for August Libra. It's a simple one, but an important one. And surprisingly insightful for me I have to say. Maybe I could do this horoscope thing as a career.

You've always been a bit of a fan of things made out of glass. Bottles are one of your favourite glass items. Glasses for your eyes are also popular. Not only do they satisfy your glass-liking habit, they also help you to see better. Dual-purpose glasses, eh? You also like windows. In fact, on your computer, you have a folder called Windows which is full of photographs of windows. Occasionally you go into your folder called Windows to clear out some of the other random stuff that’s somehow found its way in there. Program Files? what's that got to do with windows? And System32. Unless it's a new brand of double-glazing, that can go too. Sometimes even your windows photographs vanish from your Windows folder. Sometimes they reappear. Strange. But, your computer is often quite unreliable and seems to stop working for no apparent reason, so you just live with it.

In August though, a shattering event will upset you. You have a shelf in your house upon which you display some of your favourite glass things. Glass bottles, drinking glasses, eye glasses, crystal glasses, glass eyes, glass Disney figurines, glass ashtrays, my glass crystal ball (I wondered where that went!). There's even a book on there called Glass's Guide. Turns out it's a book of used cars, but you bought it thinking it was a guide to glass, and don't like wasting money so keep it on display anyway. The problem is, the shelf itself is also made of glass. And, as you know, glass is fragile.

Something else you’re also enjoy is darts. So your glass room also doubles as your darts room because, well, it’s your hobby room. That’s where you do your hobbies. One day, while playing darts in your hobby room, your throw will miss the dartboard, and fly directly towards the glass shelf, piercing it and instantly shattering it. All of your cherished glass items will tumble to the floor in a glorious but devastating cascade of shards, chips and decorative debris. It will actually look quite decorative, especially when the sun shines on it – a bit like a glittering, tragic, glass mountain. You could call it Mount Everest Windows! But you will be in no mood to appreciate its accidental artistic merit or niche jokes about defunct window companies. Instead, you will cover the glass with a blanket, pretend it never happened, but avoid your hobby room for a while. Eventually, you'll bring yourself to clean it up. It might be a few days later, maybe weeks, maybe years. But you'll clean it. And the lesson, seeing as I’m spouting out lessons like I’m some sort of wise oracle this month, is, don't play darts in rooms where there is a lot of glass. Kind of obvious really, but clearly you need obvious things pointing out.

The other week, my local branch of the Astrologer's Circle held a meeting. I haven't attended one before. From what I understand, it's where astrologers get together and discuss what's going to happen in the future. This is so that they don't produce conflicting horoscopes. It maintains trust in the world of astrologers. Anyway, I thought I'd pop along to see what it's all about, and get my money's worth out of my £50 monthly subscription. I have to say, it wasn't at all what I was expecting. It was actually more cultish than I thought it'd be. I walked in, had to take off my shoes, get weighed, and then sat on a plastic chair while our Leader, Janice, asked us what we'd eaten over the last week. Apparently, I spent an entire week sinning – something to do with the quantity of Mars bars I'd consumed, and Frazzles, and donuts... Other astrologers got clapped at just for eating fruit. Then we got onto the serious stuff, plans for the future. And, I have to say, that it seems that the joint consensus of the Astrologers Circle this month is that you're allowed a couple of slices of wholemeal bread a day, as much chicken as you'd like, unlimited grapes, a slither of butter, bananas (but not in a smoothie), and onions. But keep away from lattes, doner kebabs, mayonnaise and burgers. Also, there's going to be a special offer on in Iceland for microwave meals. Yes, so that's what is in store for you for August. I plan to go back to the next Astrologers Circle meeting, and hope that they don't moan at me again, as I've just eaten a sharebox of McNuggets to myself. Hopefully, they won't be as obsessive about food next time and there will be something more interesting in your future. Career, romance, friendships. Anything's better than listening to Pat talking about her Wetherspoons all-day breakfast mishap and the fact she turned up for weigh-in before she’d had a Tuesday evening crap.

Capricorn, Capricorn, wherefore art thou Capricorn? Yes, romance is in the air in, what month are these for now? July? No, it's August isn't it? Romance is in the air for you Sea Goats this August. Sea Goat? Hmmm, okay. The problem is, you don't notice it. The signs are there. The flirtatious comments from an admirer, the compliments, the way they make you smile, make you laugh, make you feel happy, desired and wanted. The way they lift you when you're down, support you when you're off kilter (that's a good word, isn't it?). Or, you might notice it, but you choose not to engage. It might be that you like the attention, like being put on this pedestal. But this kind of behaviour will likely result in your potential soulmate giving up, to turn their attention to somebody who actually deserves it. And when they do, you'll wonder why they've gone off you. And, hmmmm, this is a rather serious prediction isn't it? It's really not gone the way I thought it was going to go. I need to have a chat with Saturn. Apparently he's in charge of Capricorns. Hi, is that Saturn? Yes, I know it's accurate. I'm the world's greatest astrologer, they're always accurate. But isn't it a bit depressing? No, I have tried to insert some of my trademark wit into it. What? No, I haven't been hurt by a Capricorn. Ohhh! So you think I have do you? Well, I'll tell you something Saturn. You might think you look great with those rings and stuff, but deep down, you're just full of gas and air. Yes, exactly like a balloon. Ok, sorry. I'll tell them that. That will make them happy.

Hi, I'm back. So, yes, romance might not be in the air in August. What will be in the air though is hot air balloons. And you'll go to see the hot air balloon show and have a wonderful time. You could even take a picnic.

And don't lead me on again Capricorn. Ah, sorry, that bit was meant to be in my inner voice.

Sometimes when you're bored, you like to light tealight candles and blow them all out, and then light them again and blow them out again. It's especially fun when you've been to Ikea and treated yourself to a pack of 100 tealights. That has absolutely nothing to do with your prediction for August. I just thought I'd highlight something that you do to pass the time. Anyway, in August you will go on a rollercoaster. Not just any rollercoaster. It'll be an emotional rollercoaster. It's crazy the kind of rides they come up with a theme parks nowadays, isn't it? The ride will start with you in quite a good mood as you'll be thinking about the number of tealights you can blow out later when you get home. But as you go up the first climb, you will become angry. Yes, you will remember that your water company decided it's more important to pay their boss a bonus rather than fix their leaky pipes, but you're now expected to fund both and your bills have increased as a result. As you reach the top of the first peak, you will experience fear. Not from the view of the forthcoming drop, but because you remember that you've got to do a PowerPoint presentation at work on Tuesday about the latest Customer Experience Index results, and you've not even started the slides. As you go down the first drop, you will feel an immense sense of relief. Yep, you'll let out a sneaky fart that you've had building up all day, knowing full well any stench from it will already be 30 feet behind you. As you go around the next bend and up the next climb, the emotion will be pure horror, as you get a vision in your mind of the orange man who watches you at night. Down the next drop and around the final twists and turns you will feel love. Your heart will pound as you think about the date you have planned for Friday at Franky and Benny's with somebody you've been chatting to on Bumble for the past fortnight. And as you approach the end of the ride and enter the station, you will feel disgust, as you recall that you noticed somebody's dirty, soggy, used Band-Aid plaster on the side of your sink this morning when brushing your teeth, and remembered it'll still be there when you get back in. Oh yes, it'll be a true emotional rollercoaster. You won't actually remember much about the ride. That'll probably fall under denial.

You know the problem with your Pisceses? You’re always late to everything. This is the only reason why you’re also always the last prediction I write. If you were further up, you’d probably miss it entirely and turn up to somebody else’s horoscope. And that will just be confusing, both for you and for me. Of course, your tardiness can land you in some hot water. For example, it might be your wedding in August. If you’re late to that, well, there will be some angry people there and probably some strong words aimed in your direction. You might already be married. In which case, you’re already late if you’re turning up to your wedding in August (that made more sense in my head). There’s the annual Jigsaw Puzzle Convention in August, where jigsaw puzzle fans can assemble and do jigsaws. If you’re late to that, it might as well be a Picture Convention. And what about the 2025 showing of The Neverending Story, at your local cinema. Turn up late to that, and, well, it’ll still be The Neverending Story, because that’s just its name. But its runtime is only 1 hour, 35 minutes so there’s a good chance it will have ended. And what about the Silent Disco Championships. You’ll turn up in your disco gear, headphones on, but not actually know if it’s finished as you can’t hear the music. My suggestion to you is put your watch forward half an hour. What else can I suggest? It’s not my fault you’re late to everything. And I’m not here as your agony uncle with solutions to your problems. Maybe you could buy a diary? Stick post-its all over your house as reminders? Tell Alexa to remind you of stuff. She’s good at that. Apart from when she’s not listening because she’s fallen out with the Wi-fi again. I dunno.