The Art of Breaking Apart, Radio 4

It's Valentine's Day and Radio 4 has scheduled two special programmes, Leaving Mr Wrong ("Imagine planning to leave your marriage two weeks into it and waiting over 20 years. It happens more often than you think!") and - just before our heads hit the pillow - Stuart Maconie in The Art of Breaking Apart (11pm), going through his record collection and "asking why heartbreak has inspired some all-time classics". Good times at the Holiday Inn, then.

“No single song can capture the complexity of anxiety we experience - the see-sawing emotion of a break-up," says Maconie, like Julia Flyte on the stairs about to dump Charles. To Salford University and a one-to-one with a Professor of the Origins of the Break-up Album, who explains that it all started around 1954 with the release of a country record called Story of a Love Affair, which is, in a nutshell, "a series of songs that chart the story of a love affair".

“Hmm. Right," says Stuart - he's always saying things like "hmm" and "yep" over other people speaking, hurrying them along. "Sad as it might be," continues Maconie, "marital breakdowns seem to have given Bob Dylan's creativity a huge electric jolt." Glad I'm strapped in here, Stuart. Let's hear it.

“Dylan had completely lost his mojo," nods a Dylan expert. "Blah blah blah - he lost it. We don't know how he lost it, but he did. He says Blood on the Tracks is about the short stories of Chekhov. But it's clearly a break-up record! It's melancholic, it's Greek tragedy, it's heartbreaking." (Sure - but, strangely, if you listen to those lyrics, it could also be a response to Chekhov's short stories. Dylan: "As for the press, I figured you lie to it.") "This weird and erratic shifting of moods and tone," muses Stuart, "is what breaking up is like." Quick capsule review: this programme is lowering my sperm count. "We now know, of course," confides the expert, "about Mr Dylan's outside-marriage activities and the names of the people on Mr Dylan's dance card. People like Mr Dylan were offered temptations . . . and succumbed. I'm not Sherlock Holmes." How terribly scientific.

Maconie now says "broken down irretrievably" and "marriage started to go sour" and "the deteriorating relationship was painfully exposed" with gusto. Hey, guys - are you available for kids' parties? Let's turn over to Magic FM, where all weekend we've at least been encouraged to leave a dedication for our "huggy bear, honey pie or cutey poo". Martin Collins is on, apparently reading the lyrics to "Smooth Operator" in a weird monotone: "Lover-boy-you-move-in-space-with-minimum-waste-and-maximum-joy. Not a difficult one, is it? Call me and win tickets to see Sade." Oh, I see, a competition. "We're celebrating Valentine's Day - let's go to the lines. Hello? Happy Valentine's Day, Lynn!" Silence. "Are you OK?" Silence.

“I'm not too bad," says a voice, casual and yet subtly registering a depth of feeling. "But I've got mouth-ache."

Martin is stumped. "I froze there for a second, Lynn, wondering what you were going to say. So you're not doing much today? Just resting?"

“Yeah. No. I'm a lonely heart."