Have a Shitty Weekend - a Valentine's Special!

While I’m an admirer of Christmas’ forced yuletide togetherness, the arbitrary and often quasi-romance of St Valentines Day isn’t such an easy premise to swallow. The success of it is dependent on too many factors: booking tables, booking tickets, having money, being with someone who isn’t a cunt, being with someone full stop. It’s another nonsense pain that stupid people will fall over to appease, and even the steady minded will allow to encompass them.

If you’re not a lovesick wrongun / haven’t been married for 20-odd years, then you can let this moment slide and carry on with your lives. But for those of your indulging this trite day of total teeth-cracking candy heart pig shit, I say fuck you, and hope that one of these events ruins it for you. Have a shitty weekend.

Love Glove, Friday 14 Feb, Canavan’s Peckham
10PM till whenever, £5

There was a time when the word "Peckham" would be met with the response: "Fuck that, mate – I'm not going there, it's a fucking shithole." Those times, of course, have long since passed – the warehouses are now venues for degree show afterparties and the old pie and mash shops are selling partridge breast and melba toast.

However, the people who refused to acknowledge its existence until the first stonebaked pizza joint turned up (and moved there from Dalston immediately) seem to have forgotten that it was once a place tied with Mitcham for "London's premier location to have a sack-full of knives thrown at your mouth".

Those were simpler times; better times, perhaps. Now? Now we have a Valentines-themed vinyl-only night in a pool hall. Love Glove at Canavan’s is essentially inviting you to spend your evening with a bunch of acetate because you're too much of a freak to find anyone willing to endure more than 30 seconds with you while you drawl on about some rare Charlie Mingus record you found on Discogs.

Friday Late at the Transport Museum, Friday 14 Feb, London Transport Museum

Nothing gets the blood driving full pelt into the walls of my phallus like a haemoglobin Ayrton Senna as a trip to the London Transport Museum does. Lucky, then, that for the day of love and romance, of tender touches and lustful, longing gazes, you can step foot on a really old tube train and glance at a rusted double decker. The Transport Museum’s love-in boasts illustration workshops, ‘storytellers’ (who will be recounting the wondrous tale of when a schoolboy spat through the holes in the perspex pane separating bus driver from commuter) and a photobooth complete with props; the skull of a tube suicide case, a racist manifesto written on a Pret napkin by a cab driver - all the things to make this February 14th just that bit more special. Then, when you’re finished, you can both get the real London Transport home, get verbally accosted by some banter boys, miss the last tram and have weird sex, channeling the angelic spirit of Mr. Bob Crow. (Ladies - if your man isn’t giving you the correct service, make some jokes about his penis being ‘on strike’ or there being a ‘signal failure’. Topical jokes are guaranteed to lighten the mood and boost confidence in your partner.)

Anti Valentines Day, Friday 14 Feb, Various

If there’s one thing more depressing than the hordes of pricks shit-grinning their way through Friday’s Cupidity, it’s the phalanx of defiant ‘singles’ who’re adamantly trying to make it about them. Most of these things are just normal events, but marketed as ‘anti-Valentines’ to enlist the swathes of morons who’re just dying to be part of something. Don’t Ever Love Me at the Hoxton Pony features ‘former Basement Jaxx vocalist Ami Carmine and legendary beat boxer Killa Kela’, and a ‘distinctly unromantic feel’. Two people who were kinda famous but are now very much not so? Sounds romantic to me. For the serial-killers-in-waiting among you, Taxidermy at Queen Mary University gives you the opportunity to embalm and stuff a rat this Valentines Day. It’s a five hour long session with refreshments to keep you going, so afterwards you can get langers and try your new found skills out on some poor couple you've kidnapped as you cry and ejaculate on their freshly statuesque cadavers - you saucy sausage you! Perhaps the most upsetting, though, are the singles nights. Feeling like a last ditch attempt at any semblance of happiness, singles nights on V-Day must give you the same feeling those hired tramps in Japan get when they wade through the radiation at Fukushima. Red Hot Valentines day is aboard Good-Ship-Wanker The Yacht on Embankment, with 150 places and even private areas for mini-dates, which you can use to solidify your concrete slippers and take a fatal dive into the murky Thames waters.

Alone or betrothed, tomorrow will be just another day in the slow crash towards oblivion. And I’ll be there, readers, leaping out of the vase holding the plastic rose, screaming ‘it’ll never last’, and gobbing on your Tiramisu.