Ruth Walker: ‘Surely a saint who has lost all sense of decency can be stripped of his sainthood’

If a dishonourable banker can be stripped of his honour, surely a saint who has lost all sense of decency can be stripped of his sainthood. I'm starting the campaign right here. Who's with me?

Flowers – they're OK. Chocolates – fair enough. Diamonds – yuh-huh! But can we stop using 14 February as a day to flog any old junk to fools so blinded by infatuation that they think, as long as it's pink or red and features one of those gormless Forever Friends bears, it can pass as a suitable gift for the object of their obsession. (As a side note, I don't include pink gin in this particular equation: that makes a perfectly good gift at any time of year. However, red marmalade does not.)

Since before Christmas, the e-mails have been dropping into my inbox, sealed with wishful thinking and fragrant with desperate anticipation. Alongside the predictable soaps, scented candles, cosmetics, his 'n' hers cookbooks, underwear, skincare and personalised jewellery suggested as potential presents is the more unexpected herbal ‘love tea' (“perfect for cuddling up and relaxing at home"), lip balm (to “perfect your pout in time for a romantic Valentine’s evening") and a hot chocolate bikini wax (“in high demand in the run up to Valentine’s Day"). Yikes!

Then there is the His and Hers board game. “This enlightening game playfully highlights the endless differences between the sexes," the blurb goes, describing it as “a hugely entertaining, eye-opening opportunity to find out more about how the opposite sex ticks". Example questions (pink for girls, blue for boys – genius) include: What is the only body muscle that is attached at one end only? Clue: it's not what you might think. And men speak about 12,500 words a day. To the nearest thousand, how many does the average woman speak in a day? Clue: it's more.

We also loved the suggestion of flatulence-filtering underpants. As the recipient of this thoughtful Valentine's present, our loved one can “fart with confidence", as it employs the same technology used in chemical-warfare suits. My knees tremble at the very thought.

But our favourite has to be the “Valentine’s saucy ski top ten", which plumbs down the slippery slope of puerile double entendre by attempting to combine the twin delights of snowsports and bedroom athletics. “When you draw breath at the end of it, you're always willing to get back on top and give it another go," it sniggers, clearly proud of its clever wordplay. “You can go at it alone, but it’s much better together, or even in a group," it continues, tittering like a pubescent schoolboy who has just discovered the word ‘bra' and thinks it the most hilarious thing in the world. “When you’ve got children, you’re lucky if you mange it more than once a year." And: “A good wax reduces friction and provides a smoother ride."

Really? I think we can all agree there's nothing very saintly about that.