8th July 2017
My heart awoke an hour before I did, bursting as it was with so much love to share on yet another Valentine’s Day, that day of the year when people turned into slavering dogs gnawing on the gristle-bedecked bones of either inevitably terminal or deluded, long-faded affection.
    By the time I got out of bed and went downstairs, my heart had already prepared a slap-up breakfast for me, consisting of liquor and wrists. Oh my heart, you know me so well.
    But then, my collector’s-edition ‘Allo ‘Allo! calendar leapt off the wall and kicked the shit out of me and pointed out the date.
    For ‘twas not Saint Valentine’s Day, aroused reader, oh no. ‘Twas Saint Duplocheek’s Day, that terrible holiday allowing people to be a bit of a twat for a day.
    Damn you, heart! Damn you.