Valentine’s Day is on the way. So, don’t delay. Buy some hay or perhaps turn a little gay. Hip, hip hooray.
Now, that little poem type thing above summarises the whole romantic thing rather succinctly. However, it’s actually a more nefarious and nauseating affair, so we’ve compiled a whole FAQs thing about it so you can survive the thing in one piece.
Asking us the FAQs this week are Mary (23) and Mike (24). They’re a couple of two years who met on Tinder and now live together in Fallowfield, Manchester, right next to the big Sainsbury’s supermarket there.
Mary: Hi, Professional Moron! We’re here to ask you questions about Valentine’s Day. I’m Mary. This is Mike. It’s great to meet you! We’ve been looking forward to this all week.
Hello. Sorry, which one is Mary again?
Mary: That’s… that’s me.
Okay. And that other one right there. That’s Mike?
Mike: Yes, hello. Nice to meet you.
We’ll be the judge of that, Mary.
Mary: No, I’m Mary.
You are? Look, this is just getting a bit too confusing. Let’s get some name tags together to keep it simple.
[There’s a ten-minute delay whilst everyone gets a nametag, including the office apprentice – it reads “GENERIC OFFICE APPRENTICE #12”]
Right there we go, problem solved.
Mike: Mine says “Mary”.
Mike: My name tag. She’s Mary. I’m Mike.
Can you… just swap the name tags, please.
Mary: Like that?
Yes. Now, ask us about romantic things, but do not dribble whilst doing so.
Mary: Okay. Right, well we were wondering about how Valentine’s Day became a global phenomenon.
Well, Mike, it’s because devious capitalists want to wrench as much money from dimwitted, love-addled, vacuous plebs such as yourselves.
Mary: Well, that’s a really cynical attitude you have there. You don’t see it as an expression of a couple’s love?
Why limit yourself to one day a year for that stuff, Mike? There’s nothing stopping you from getting Mary, say, a tin of baked beans as a special treat on some arbitrary day of the week.
Mike: I… excuse me, I’m Mike. You keep addressing Mary as Mike. When I’m Mike. And, for your information, I bought Mary a tin of spaghetti hoops just last night as her birthday present. I know how to be a gentleman.
Hmmmmmmmmm…. were they Heinz brand spaghetti hoops?
Mary: No, they were no frills bargain bin variety. And he made me cook them on the hob.
I’m sorry to hear that, Mike. Perhaps Mary can make up for it next week on Valentine’s Day. What would you like him to get you?
Mary: *Giggling like a drunken cretin* Well… it’s been two years. I was thinking he might, you know. Pop the question.
By “the question” we presume you, Mary, want to ask Mike one of the following:
- “So, where do you see this going?”
- “So, why do you never use the bog brush, even though I’ve asked you a THOUSAND TIMES?!”
- “So, why do I keep finding stubble all over the sink?”
- “So, you ever thought about what you’d name our kids?”
- “So, do you hear wedding bells when you drift off to bed at night? Or am I just suffering from early onset mania, potentially as a result of a decline into total psychosis?”
Mary: Yeah, I want him to ask me, You know, about Wedding bells *giggles quite insanely again”.
Wedding bells? You want him to buy you some wedding bells for the Valentine’s Day gift? Where would you even keep those – in your shed?
Mike: We don’t have a shed.
Why ever not? Every couple needs a good shed! It’s the hallmark of any relationship. Maybe Mary could buy you one for Valentine’s Day.
Mike: Nevermind that. I think Mary’s implying she has marriage on her mind.
Who the Hell to? Another man!?
Mike: Professional Moron, she’s overtly implying me, here.
We don’t care whether it’s overt, covert, or inert, Mike, as if it’s a guy called Burt then you’ve been treated like dirt.
Mike: Look, my intentions for Valentine’s Day are my intentions. Every man will approach it as he sees fit. What do you, Professional Moron, think are some good, wholesome, romantic activities?
Oh, so you need us for advice then, huh? Well fair play to you, here are some of the ideas we came up with over lunch.
- A bag of cement.
- Two bags of cement.
- Three bags of cement.
- A bag of wholemeal flour (as a joke, you know, instead of normal flowers).
- A bottle of organic extra virgin olive oil.
- A pet monkey that’s able to screech, “I oooOOOOoo EEEEEEeeeEE AAAA-LIKE-AAA YOuOOo OOo oo.”
Mary: Ohhh, I like that monkey one!
Yeah, that was Mr. Wapojif’s idea. 34 – still got it going on, clearly.
Mike: That’s preposterous, I don’t have the time to source a monkey and train it to say that! I’ll stick with my actual plan, thank you, which is a 50p card that says “Be My Valentine” and a box of chocolates.
Well, that’s just a bit generic, Mary. How do you think Mike will feel when you hand him that lame effort?
Mary: What’s this ongoing confusion you have with our names?
Mike & Mary In Unison: Ours!
Look, we’re here to answer questions about romance. Not get your names right. You’re simply here for filler whilst we work on more important content. Got that!?
Mike: Jesus. How charming.
Indeed. So, ask us more Valentine’s questions.
Mary: Okay… what’s the best film to watch on Valentine’s Day?
The Human Centipede.
Mary: Erm… Maybe not. So, what’s the best music to listen to over a romantic dinner?
Nails scratching across a chalkboard.
Mary: And the best food to eat for that aforementioned dinner?
Stale noodles marinated in cat piss.
Mary: Right… Are you lot anti-romance, or something?
Talk to the hand.
Mary: Which hand?
This one. Here, take it.
Mary: Why do you have a severed hand? Is this real or a Halloween prop?
We found it outside earlier, it could be either. Mike, you can have that as your Valentine’s gift if you want?
Mike: No thank you. I… think we’ll be leaving now.
No. Stay. STAY! We meant as Mr. Wapojif’s Valentine’s Day gift to you. Since your arrival in the office he’s fallen head over heels in love with you, Mike. Here’s the love letter he’s asked me to hand you.
Mary: Why did you give it to me?
Because you’re Mike.
Mary: Okay, fine, I’ll read it, “Dear Snuggums. Only in the stars are there thunderously destructive balls… ” and He’s underlined and italicised that for some reason, “Off fire as massively destructive and dead good as you is. Please be my valentine. Ditch the bitch – I are the man of you are dreams!” How is this guy an editor? his diction and grammar are horrendous.
Is that a yes, then?
Mary: No, I will not ditch the bitch for any of you.
That is a disappointing answer. What does Mary think?
Mike: Er… yes, sorry, Mary also agrees.
Huh. Well, that’s charming. We’re not going to cry or anything, but we’re going to have to impolitely ask you to leave.
Mary: Ok. Well, thanks for all of that. Very enlightening. Here, you can have this hand back.
Get the bloody hell out of here.