As usual, there were ear-piercing choruses of squeals and shrieks from the office girlies as giant bouquets arrived throughout the day.

How imaginative and loving, eh? Sending some flowers out on a day engineered by card companies to make a fat profit.

There's a rule of thumb that "the bigger the bouquet, the sooner they'll split up". 'Cos that's what usually happens.

Any bloke who succumbs to this sappy drivel ought to go the whole hog and have a sex change.

Because real love isn't about spending a fortune on pink and red tat that's been doubled in price just because it's Valentine's Day.

Real men don't send their loved ones flowers and cards. They don't need this 'fake glue' to be applied to hold the relationship together.

And that's why Lady Grundi has never had any such trivia from me in over 15 years... and yet we still share a roof over our heads in unwholesome matrinomy.

(Mind, she moved into the spare bedroom 14 years ago and I haven't seen her since).

Meanwhile, the girlies with their bouquets will probably be crying their eyes out this weekend as they discover that 'their' Darren has "gone an' knocked off me sister's best mate".

The one thing I didn't spot on the big day were any of those ridiculous 'Can You Feel The Basset-Love' pink beermats.

What an ideal opportunity to salvage some crumbs from this dire and useless 'campaign'.