I’m really not rattling any cages here by saying that Valentines Day is an exploitative Hallmark bukkake which serves the sole purpose of stimulating corporate bank accounts, the economy and the occasional clitoris. It’s naïve to think that your partner is actually excited by the idea that you put more effort into sequestering your hatered for them the other 364 days of the year than you did buying them that incredibly thoughtful and imaginative teddy/ rose combo, on a day dictated by those profiteering from it. The last few years have seen this so-called holiday turn into a romanticised global social-media circle jerk, look no further than Instagram for proof.

If you want everybody to know how much your partner values you don’t forget to post a photo of your flowers before they wither and die (much like ur luv), and that cheap and tacky toy which could potentially be used as a furry fleshlight/ drug smuggling device (aka what ur bby thinks of you).

This sentiment is summed up pretty concisely by Bert Burykill:

“Yo, motherfucker… Valentine’s Day is coming up, you better not make me look stupid. Buy me some fly shit, take me out and then fuck me proper so I can brag to my friends while cradling my stretched, swollen pussy.”

The truth is, all anybody wants for Valentines Day is to be pleasured for a few hours and get a couple of choke marks as proof they didn’t spend the night alone rigorously masturbating, smoking bowls and watching workaholics (aka the perfect evening.)

So, if you were lucky enough to dupe some poor asshole from Tinder into having sex with you, please remember the best gift you can give this Valentines Day is an orgasm, and I’ve compiled a few of my favourite tracks to get you there.