I have spent a lot of time looking at a blank page trying to write this post... I didn't want to do the standard Valentines thing, whine about it if you're single, wank about it if you're not. But, I am single, so here we are!

First off, does anyone actually know what St Valentine (or Valentinus if you want to be precise) actually did with his life? You celebrate a day that is named after him (though was removed from the Catholic calender in 1969) so why? I would say 10 points to whoever gets it but I think the bigger prize for knowing would be that you actually know more about a Saint than the Catholic Church. That's right folks, even the Church has no idea why St Valentine is a Saint, and the bloke himself has no connection to love at all, we are all just going along with an idea made up by Jeff Chaucer! I would like to humbly propose that we sack St Valentinus and go for a Patron Saint of something that is at least somehow connected with the end result of St Valentines day. Therefore, next February 14th I shall be celebrating the life of Saint Fiacre, the patron Saint of Sexually Transmitted Diseases, by trying to pass on a raging case of Herpes!

They say that you always remember where you were when you heard really important news, like the first man walking on the moon, when Lennon died or when Mario Balotelli drove around Manchester handing out money dressed as Santa. Obviously, I don't remember where I was when most of these things happened because I'm not as old as my Hellenic housemate, but one thing I will always remember is where I was when Whitney Houston died. This is because I was in Flares, the club where the 80's went to inject itself with heroin and get fingered by a fat bald fella for a fiver. And the reason I will always remember why I was in such a glorious establishment for the death of a pop "legend"... because it was the DJ who broke the news to me. True Story.

So that's me for this installment. I'm not sure if its as good as usual, but it's something! I would just like to sign off by wishing James Green and his new girlfriend Sara a lovely first valentines day together. I hope Sara takes you somewhere nice... other than up the arse.

My video this week is dedicated to all you Valentines, think of this when you're with that special someone!

Talking 'bout People

So people, we're an interesting bunch... and I'm going to talk about two very interesting ones indeed!

In the red corner weighing in at a mighty 135lbs, hailing from Wisbech, Norfolk, Glenn Drawbridge. I often worry about Glenn, the way he views the world terrifies me, I genuinely think this is how Josef Fritzl might have started out. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not going to get all high & mighty, I am a disgusting human being, I have done terrible things and I will probably end up in the same special corner of hell as Frankie Boyle for the horrendous things I say, but next to Gwenn Drawbridge (intentional w) I might as well be Gary Linekar (Never booked in his whole career...stat!). My main concern right now is for the young women of Birmingham and the surrounding area who happen to bump into / share Facebook friends with Glenn, especially those who don't own rape alarms. Most men will happily joke about sleeping with borderline young women, myself included, but we have a line we draw age wise. My personal one is 18, if she can't legally drink then she won't be able to get drunk enough to black out the memories of sleeping with me. But Glenn has manged to coin a phrase that chills the blood in even my icy heart, "I didn't ask how old she was, I asked if she was fit". And please don't think this is an isolated incident, it started with young looking 18 and 19 year olds, but it has taken a sinister turn recently with references to 15 year old cousins of a yiddish looking man I know. So really I guess this part of my blog is a plea, dear West Midlands police, if you're out there, catch this man and stop him, before the thought of the crime isn't enough... Don't look now, I think he's behind you.

In the blue corner weighing an impressive 200lbs, from somewhere posh I have never heard of, "creepy" Mike. Creepy Mike is actually a chap I work with at a law firm that shall not be named, and he makes it into my blog because of his interesting method in dealing with a situation most men will find quite awkward. Imagine you're walking into / out of the toilets at work as someone else is doing the opposite. Its not fun, but most rational human beings will give a quick nod or tight lipped smile that says, "Yeah, that smell was me, but in about 10 minutes it will be you, so deal with it". Not our Michael. Oh no. As I was peeing at a urinal the other day he came in, and instead of just using one further down (I followed the rules and used the end one) he leaned up against a cubicle and talked to me like we were best friends til my bladder gave in and decided half empty would have to do. This was the second time I had ever met him. Spare a thought for the guy who sits behind me in the office who has worked there about 2 years. As he walked into the toilet Mike was coming out of a cubicle after having done the naughty. This time talking wasn't enough, he planted a meaty (and unwashed) hand on my colleagues chest, muttered something along the lines of, "I hope you're well" and with that he left. Terrifying stuff.

Anyway, I guess the moral of this blog is that even normal looking people can be so much more deadly / sinister / rapey than you ever could imagine. So be safe out there children, and as a wise man once told me, "Be careful when buying settees and chairs... never by suites from strangers".

Your videos this week:
Zane Lowe dropped this bomb on me and it won't leave my head

And comedy from Zane's show Gonzo... I love the Killers, but this does tickle me.