It doesn’t take much to get me angry anymore. It’s only a matter of time before a doctor tells me my constitution is that of an epileptic Flight 93 survivor who’s been forced to fly al-Qaida’s Flaming Lips tribute act to their laser show at the opening of the Ground Zero memorial. So what is it now Matt? What are you so hot-under-the-collar about? Is it war? Poverty? The looming 5% price rise in Special Brew? Actually this time it’s crisps.

For those of you who haven’t heard (where the fuck have you been?!); that renowned pedlar of overpriced underedible pretentious douche-food Pret A Manger have conceded to pressure from catholic collectives and aborted the production of a particular flavour of crisp, due to offense taken at the name chosen for their insipid wood flakes.

As we all know, the catholics aren’t the sort of people to get offended over nothing. The name of these crisps must’ve been truly abhorrent, possibly even too controversial to print, so I’m now going to print the name and let you judge for yourselves. Virgin Mary crisps, “flavoured with Worcestershire sauce and chilli, just like the real thing but much drier” are now no longer available for sale. What an egregious oversight by Pret! No wonder the CEO rushed to take them off the shelves. Thank god I can still purchase my favourite flavours: porn cocktail, stem cell n’ vinegar and pickled foetus.

Perhaps it is only to be expected from a clutch of Christians but not one offended person seems to have made the distinction between Virgin Mary the drink and Virgin Mary, a coquettish Jewish minx who was rather good at fibbing. Or maybe no one cares. I’m sure being outraged by what a business decides to name a food product makes the need for objective truth seem like a silly fantasy.

But I can only ridicule the religious for a while. It’s fun at first but soon becomes a depressing chore. Now I direct my disgust and vitriol towards the spineless Clive Schlee, CEO of Pret A Manger. His response to the complaints was as follows: “I have examined my conscience about the naming of our crisps. Please, please don’t take offence. None is intended.” The word was then given to stop selling the crisps with immediate effect. In his haste to bend to the will of a handful of fanatics he sounds almost masochistic, clamouring for expiation from the sin of reference to a tomato based cocktail – a quivering Ana Steele hungrily  waiting for the firm phallus of religious oppression to be rammed down his throat.

Because that is what this is. Make no mistake about it. This is religious oppression of freedom. This is the idea that when someone of deep religious conviction is offended heaven and earth must be moved to make sure they feel comfortable. Suppose it’s not the name of some crisps but the name one gives to the union homosexual couples that causes offence. Would you capitulate?