Many of you, like myself, may be struggling at this stage not to sprint off, switch off, or throw a massive strop at the very mention of the bleedin’ recession. If I hear one more peep about another credit crunch, double dip, or any other maxim of economic jargon  for that matter which just so happens to sound like a potential chocolate bar name…(Inflation- the new Aero? Just a thought.)

Anyway, I digress. For what I actually set out to moa- comment about this week takes the term ‘recession’ down a brand new, exhilarating path of emotional angst and insurgence.  I will be taking the forthcoming celebration of Valentine’s Day as an opportunity to reject all things economic, and to explore an even more pressing global phenomenon- the death, boys and girls, of modern day romance. Take that, steely bankers.

Thus, I hope that this fast approaching Hallmark holiday of Lovey-Dovey Day which has sparked said lament will provide the perfect opportunity for even those of you allergic to numbers and/or current affairs to jump on board the trusty nag-wagon that is recession-themed-commentary.

So we begin. In honour of the occasion, today, we will be taking a look at another global recession which has hit the world hard over the last few decades. We will be exploring, with correctness, curiosity and an exacting critical eye, the causes and effects of The Romantic’s Recession, otherwise known as The Great Transgression of Romance. Or some other pun of an equally shameful nature.

The Great Transgression of Romance can be dated back to a date perhaps some time ago in the previous century. Some time around then, at least. And though modern experts are still divided in their opinions about the exact root of the recession, several fields of theory point towards The Great Technological Revolution as a catalyst for said decline in romantic output and stagnation of creative gesturing and heart-felt declarations.

In not so many words, we should blame the ruddy internet, the mobile telephone, bloody mass media and the flipping television for the state in which the world of romance finds itself today. For how can we ever hope to miss someone enough to conjure up a ten-page letter of abstract devotion, of universal promises and heart-felt adorations when a boy is never more than a phone call away? Where’s the romance in a three-word text, or an all-singing, all dancing e-card, for crying out loud?

Long gone are the days of hand written love notes, of scribbled sweet nothings to the tune of Sonnet 116 or John Donne’s Flea. Our fast-paced world has chosen to scrimp on romance; it’s time wasting, not a guaranteed success, and if you’re not the next Shakespeare or Edith Pilaf, the chances are that any grand gesture of great sentiment is going to actually leave you looking less like Casanova and more like a bit of a wally.

Valentine’s Day, does of course, however, appear to be the grand exception to this rule. We seem to find it acceptable to make up for a year’s worth of romantic neglect by drowning ourselves for one night, and one night only in the absolutely abhorrent drivel of mass-produced memorabilia; suffocating under masses of soppy, sickening prose (if we can even call it that) as we walk into shops and are confronted with declarations of love from laminate cards, chocolate boxes and heart-shaped, well, anythings. All of a sudden, everyone loves us.

However, the delivery of such sentiments leaves much to be desired, and little to the imagination. Observations from my first round of Cambridge-based  market research revealed a, well, provocative array of  romantic declarations to say the least. From examples of bribery: “Be my valentine and I’ll show you my tits” to blunt-faced  honesty: “I’ve heard you’re easy. You’ll do”, and other eloquently-put phrases: “I love you like well loads”, “I love you like a fat kid loves cake”, “wanna take a stroll in my lady garden”; it became more than clear that romance had died a sad and sorry death. Nowadays, we cut straight to the chase: “Forget the flowers- Let’s shag!”

A trip to California last week provided an opportunity for transatlantic comparison in the world of Western attitudes to romance. I learnt a lot during that trip. Firstly, on a slightly divergent note, that one should never expect too much from hotel staff.  “I’m sorry, I’ve never seen an international stamp before” and “I’m sorry, I don’t follow US politics”, were among two of the most provocative encounters I had with the short-tempered trout behind the desk.

Anyway, back to love. And my word do they have some over there. “Oh my God, I love your accent”, “Oh my God, I love your pants”. Oh my God, get a room. Reading “I only wish to be the fountain of love from which you drink. Alone I climb, but get nowhere. With you, I reach new heights” to the tune of a tinny, synthesised sax rendition of Mariah Carey’s ‘Without You’ off an electronic valentine’s card offset a distinct feeling of nausea in my cynical stomach. And an advert for christianmingle.com- with the tag line- ‘find God’s match for you’ was just the icing on the cake.

So it’s not just the economy suffering from hyperinflation these days. Plastic hearts and empty words have evidently become the new twenty-first century trading chips in the cheapened currency of love. Love has become a ridiculously overused word, a cog in a great commercial enterprise, degraded by new technologies and mass-marketing.

Sure, Valentine’s in itself is an illusory holiday, for ‘love’ isn’t just about one day, making a show and joining the hordes of other hungry couples eagerly awaiting their substandard, overpriced lovebirds set menu. (I think I’ll have the scallop). But Valentine’s ‘syndrome’ has in fact become a very real phenomenon which pervades our every-day attitudes to romance and relationships, and is something worth considering.

This is all, of course, a harsh generalisation of pop culture as we know it. Not everyone is an ILY kinda guy, and people could be doing something a dam sight worse with their time than celebrating a day of love.

And sometimes, just sometimes, we’re actually lucky enough not to need to cheapen a gesture with an overused word at all.

Class dismissed.