I don’t hate vegetarians, vegans or people who just breathe air until they die of starvation. I just hate tofu, lentils and anything made of soya that is supposed to taste like meat.

I couldn’t care less what you had for dinner.

I do suffer from limited patience with people who think they are better than me because they expel enough lentil gas from their rear ends to power a small city.

There’s recycling and there’s recycling.

I also suffer from a malady called sense-of-humor-itis that makes me poke fun at anyone who takes themselves way too seriously.

There is also the looming horror of having to prepare a gourmet vegetarian lunch for my son’s school next Tuesday.

His father is determined to enter into the parental competition and plans for me to whip some Nigella Lawson magical mystery meal.

I was just going to pop into the deli and…