Happy Valentine's Day, darlings

So, Lorraine Pascale hasn't responded to my card, her agent won't let me speak to her on the phone to invite her on a date, and that cake I baked (which wasn't easy, you liar) for her will have to be eaten by me and me alone as I spend Valentine's Day evening watching the new series of Coach Trip, sobbing uncontrollably with a face covered in strawberries and cream.

Valentine's Day is as about as much fun as being locked up in a cold, dark cell waiting to have your head removed from your body by an axe-wielding maniac - which, incidentally, is what happened to Bishop Valentine, who got in a spot of bother for marrying 12-year-olds (as in conducting the ceremonies, not actually… you sickos).

So, my evening will be spent with a camp, tubby 50-something tour guide; in pixelated, TV form. Still, it could be worse - Brendan 'British institution' Sheerin, who I genuinely love (not as much as Lorraine, his cakes and innuendo aren't in the same league. Cake, incidentally, is neither a metaphor nor an attempt at innuendo. I mean cake. Lovely, spongy cake) could be Bruce Willis's gay twin. He could, couldn't he? Yeah? Yeah! I told you.

And Bruce Willis was this morning named the top Valentine dream date in a poll by Madame Tussauds. Which, according to my skewed logic, makes Brendan a perfectly adequate Valentine's companion. So I win. I think.

Pic credit: Zombie Normal