Alas! I fear it’s that time of the year again, and no I do not refer to Christmas. Rudolph and baubles are light relief in the face of the Clinton’s Card concocted catastrophe that is Valentine’s Day. On this hallowed day, the only red-nosed mammals in sight are those lovelorn couples who have overindulged in a particularly enthusiastic snogging session. To those who suffer from a chronic case of Bridget Jones Syndrome, Valentine’s Day can only be taken personally; indeed we consider it an international conspiracy against bitter singletons. To all those wrapt in love’s saccharine embrace, atrocities such as P.D.A’s (Public Displays of Affection a.k.a. eating one another’s faces) and overly-sentimental/infantile cooing down the mobile phone to one another seem perfectly natural, but let me assure you, they are certainly not, they are downright abhorrent. No one wants to watch a re-enactment of Hannibal as they go about their daily shop.