It has become a tradition for this column to celebrate St Valentine's Day, it being assumed that even if our readers have given up on religion they haven't given up on sex. I have to go along with this assumption, though I agree with Mozart, Hegel, Wagner and Freud (to name but four) that religion and sex inhabit the same space in the human psyche and if you arouse the one, you will soon be visited by the other.
It is into the erotico-religious space that the drops percolate from those first sips of wine, as you raise the glass to your lips and look across at the person whose doubts you are trying to vanquish. In this situation you need to match the wine to the victim and this is what Bibendum has tried to provide for in its current offer.
For the bashful victim, the Petit Chablis is ideal: the screw-top will give the ceremony a casual aspect, and the "petit" will suggest unpretentious good taste. Never mind that this is from the Laroche family, which has been making Chablis for 150 years, and really knows how to do it. Just move the conversation forward as though the wine didn't count.
For the adventurous, the Riesling from Tasmania will be a real tease. What's the grape? How cold is the climate? Which hemisphere? At 11 per cent this is just about strong enough to warm the cockles, and the gentle flavour of apples and kiwi will wrap you in an alluring veil of mystery.
For the casual pick-up try the Cotes du Ventoux - a wine screw-capped and branded, which says: I'm here for the taking, all deals are acceptable, and the market rules, OK? Besides, it is ridiculously cheap.
For the serious, try the Pinot Noir from Chile. This is a well-made wine, without the subtle fruit of a Burgundy but with some of that earthy leaf-mould quality. It is smooth without being bland, and is excellent with savoury food - which your serious companion will certainly require before laying down the first of his or her cards.
The real voluptuary, however, will be best served by the Australian Cabernet Sauvignon, which comes in a phallic bottle and virtually roars into the glass, breathing clouds of oriental perfume as it swamps the room. It is both strong and velvety, and calls to mind the hand of Marlon Brando caressing a smooth young thigh.
For those of us who turn for comfort to a familiar face, whose character we know and with whom we feel entirely safe and protected, the South African Shiraz is the obvious choice. At 15 per cent, this would arouse suspicions in a newcomer, and its huge cushion of fruit invites you and your oldcomer to sink side by side into a coma, another name for which is marriage.
