Many people will have a vegan Christmas lunch this year, and how you feel about this probably depends at least in part on your own dietary position on a continuum that stretches from “full vegan” to “hold the green stuff and just shove animal flesh into my face”.

The vegan, just by turning up, calls the bluff, and we hate them for it.

I’m not a vegan, something it feels necessary to point out straight away, lest this be read as just a defence of what I like or choose to eat. (Were this a defence of my diet, it would be 800 words on the wonder of peanut butter.)

But even as a non-vegan, it’s hard not to notice that vegans still cop attitude from the rest of us. Veganism might be more widespread and accepted than it once was, but it’s surprising how much emotion it still seems to stir in those who like a bit of cow, chicken or fish on their plate.

Even in a woke age, where the sensitivities of every identity and belief system imaginable are to be shown tolerance and respect, vegans are on the receiving end of a fair serve of mockery. To make fun of vegans is practically the default response; a kind of sport. I’ve heard people who are seemingly progressive in every other way have no qualms in saying vegans are joyless, sanctimonious, preachy, misguided and hypocritical.