The Veuve is chilling in the fridge…

The stockings are on ice…

The threats of “You’d better take me out, or else!” have paid off…

There’s a frisson of romantic excitement in the air. Oh yes. You could see it as people queued outside the card shop yesterday: sweaty of palm, sure of luck. They were practically limbering up for the sweetly anticipated bedroom acrobatics. Fair fucks: you don’t want to put your back out at the crucial moment.

I’d join in, only I’m knackered. Me and The German were up until 3am playing backgammon last night.

And why, you may ask, weren’t we getting a good night’s kip in preparation for all the saccharin-sweet declarations of everlasting love that we’re obviously going to be engaging in later?

Because we were having a backgammon match. Whoever lost has to buy the Valentine’s fish and chips tonight.

I won. Eat that, loser.