WHAT does the male of the species wish for on Valentine's Day? It's tricky. No man I know wants a backgammon set. He probably has around 15 hip flasks already, plus 90 Swiss Army knives and hasn't got around to whittling one stick, or whatever it is you're meant to do with the myriad implements. Socks and underwear are too depressing for words (for some reason, it's perfectly acceptable for men to buy undies for girlfriends). As for the things J would really like - wine, posh things to eat - I fear that they'd have a distinctive "these are really for me" vibe about them, and that I'd be left, slavering, while he scoffed. And why the fixation with gentleman's relish in magazines' Valentine gift sections? It's bashed-up anchovies, basically, in a posh-looking pot.

Most women can think of at least 8000 things that they'd love, but men are so much harder to please. The "cosy" gift category - pyjamas, slippers - might be hugely practical for Scottish winters, but hardly smack of romance and friskery unless we're talking novelty Ann Summers-type kit, which has a habit of seeming fun during a heady whirl around the shops, but tends to plummet to deeply embarrassing territory by the time you've brought it home and the hysteria's worn off. One friend was overcome by an urge to buy her partner a fireman's outfit ("as a joke", she is keen to stress). Come gift-giving time, her enthusiasm had waned, and she wasn't sure that she could handle him in a bright yellow helmet, wielding some kind of hose. "I slung it in the bin," she admits. "Being plastic, it could go in the recycling bin, so at least some good came of it."

There is, of course, that worrying gift category "for the man who has everything". Naturally, he doesn't really have everything. He doesn't own a Jingly Jugs mug, featuring a "buxom girl" and which "jingles gently as you drink from it", or an Office Prankster Fart Machine. Gifts offering grounds for divorce, basically.

At presentsformen.co.uk, as well as the usual gardening/sports sections, there's a wide range of cleaning products including Bug Away wipes which "Kill E.coli, Listeria, Salmonella, MRSA and much more". Romance lives! I picture the loving glint in J's eyes as he unwraps said wipes, throws me a sour look and storms off to his study. The implication, surely, is, "I am planning to leave you unless you acquaint yourself with a J-cloth", which hardly kicks off Valentine's day in a mushy manner. The Rub-A-Way gizmo sounds intriguing, until you learn that it's a stainless steel bar "to remove unpleasant odours from hands".

Or how about the toothbrush protector, because "there's nothing worse than unpacking and finding your toothbrush crushed and out of shape"? Actually, plenty of things are worse than that. Like being gored by a bull, having your house burnt down, or going on a weekend away with a new boy/girlfriend and discovering that they've packed a toothbrush protector. Which is surely reason enough to terminate the relationship with immediate effect.

Further browsing throws up 3B Action Cream, which isn't half as exciting as it sounds. "Do you suffer from sweat rash, heat rash or chafing?" reads the blurb. "Ideal for athletes, the elderly, overweight people or those who suffer from excessive sweating." Happy Valentine's day! Now we're getting somewhere. I imagine J's appreciative smile as he unwraps the tub and descends into deep depression because he's regarded as either old, overweight, sweaty, or all three. I could come over absurdly romantic, like Ronan Keating, who "ordered a bunch of roses to be delivered to my wife every hour of the day throughout Valentine's day". Wouldn't that be a tad embarrassing, opening the door to the same delivery guy over and over, when he could in fact have brought all the bouquets at once, thus saving huge amounts of fuel and hassle and minimising his carbon footprint? I notice that Ronan has "created" two aftershaves.

The whole celeb scent business is extremely disturbing. Even naffer than Instinct "by" David Beckham, we have Cliff Richard's Miss You Nights and David Hasselhoff's Echo, combining notes of "living liquid air, metal aldehyde and white suede". I suspect that "white suede" would bring J out in hives, whatever they are, and that he'd rather have something for the guitar. Previously I have taken this to mean a strap or a plectrum, when he was actually hinting for a ruddy great amp that was bigger than our freezer.

To get on his good side, I could go for the item he really, really wants - a 1960 Pre-CBS Fender bass on eBay, starting bid £5499. On second thoughts, maybe that toothbrush guard (a snip at £3.99) would be just the ticket after all.

Fiona's new novel, Lucky Girl, is out now, Hodder, £6.99