Dating tips? From this guy?

Of all the highlights that come with every lap the Earth makes around the Sun, Valentine’s Day I think is the trickiest. For some, it’s plain tiresome, as all media seem to gravitate around hearts and puppies and little naked children with wings. On any other day, these things would rarely feature among your top interests, unless you’re a veterinary cardiologist...or a paedophile. But for those you for whom it has become important, it is on a par with the worst Lovecraftian nightmare: finding that special someone (for 24 hours at least), making reservations, rehearsing with painstaking precision your spontaneous wit for the evening, practising dance moves that suggest a basic understanding of rhythm, and at last, at the end of evening, scouring the whole of west London for a place that sells...a puncture repair kit.

Rather than cruise the hottest clubs for a bit of action, I find my chances are more realistic if I hang out near the opticians

I won’t pretend to be some great Casanova. Rather than cruise the hottest clubs for a bit of action, I find my chances are more realistic if I hang out near the opticians. However, I still class myself as a romantic, no matter how hopeless. I believe in love, or something roughly approximate to it, is out for there for everyone. Strengthened by my delusion, I thought I might share some tips with the reluctant Romeos among you.

Firstly, you need to make an impression. Whether you are in the Union looking for love or it’s your diamond anniversary, you have to make an effort to stand out. The girl by the bar will, I assure you, be tired of the same chat–up lines and free drinks laced with “sugar.” Just like in a job interview, you need an edge to catch her interest: wear a fez, make sexy chit–chat in Esperanto, signal “Large Hadron Collider? I hardly know her!” in Morse code with the lights. Contrary to popular belief, luck does not favour the brave. Luck and love favour the clinically insane.

Next, women like a man who can sweep them off their feet. I suggest you bring a broom. If nothing else, you can use it to compare favourably with your own physique. Another trick would be to choose your attire for the evening and shrink it in the wash. A body so ripped that it can hardly be contained is impressive, even if you are technically wearing children’s clothes. Alternatively, dim the lights; it is well–known that there is an inverse correlation between the amount of light in a room and romance. If you want, you can take this principle to its logical conclusion and have dinner in the dark; you may scoff but there is a guaranteed spike in the birth rate after every major blackout. These are just statistics I’m throwing out – sexy, sexy statistics.

Let us assume by this point, you are (still) on speaking terms with your inamorata. Seize this opportunity to dazzle your sweetheart with your verbal wit. Try to express your sensitive side – or, if missing, fake one – through the media of compliments and poetry. Bonus points are available if you are able to combine the two. Here’s a little taster to start you off; “your eyes are so blue, like a patient etherised upon a table.”

Some of you may think I’ve been quite sexist up to this point. For that, I apologise. In the interests of equality, here’s a tip for the fairer sex; go to FiveSixEight and wait by the bar. If you see someone talking gibberish with a fez on his head playing with the lights by the door, walk up to him and take a chance.