There are multiple foods that I actively avoid but nothing comes close to the intense loathing which I feel for raisins. Have you ever hated someone so much that it almost becomes enjoyable, in that way in which you find yourself actively seeking that person out on social media because reminding yourself how utterly, irredeemably terrible they are gives you a perverse rush of energy? That's how I feel about raisins.

There is nothing good about raisins. They taste like shit, they get stuck in your teeth and they look like what would be left if you removed the wings, legs and eyes from a fly. That's what you're putting in your mouths, raisin-lovers. Mutilated fly corpses. Why do you think those Garibaldi biscuits are also know as 'dead fly biscuits'? It's a warning that they are not fit for human consumption, one that a section of humanity has sadly decided to ignore.

It's not simply that I dislike raisins; I actually object to them on a moral level. Apparently, raisins originate from the days before mankind had a way of storing fruit properly, so they decided to dry it out in order to increase its longevity. While I personally would rather eat no grapes ever again than let one single raisin pass my lips, I completely understand and accept this logic. Now we live in a time and a country in which the refrigerator is an affordable household necessity, so why do raisins still exist? People are actively choosing to create and eat them. Someone is looking at grapes, thinking, 'You know what? This grape is too juicy and delicious,' and turning it into a wrinkly, sugary rabbit dropping for the sheer joy of it. Quite a lot of our raisins come from California, so I'm going to assume that the continuing existence of the raisin is, at least in part, due to the lapses in judgement that often come from smoking excessive amounts of cannabis.

Some of you at this point may be thinking that this post is unnecessary, but you are wrong. If raisin-lovers were content to just keep their disgusting habit to themselves and not bother those of us who understand that chewing on the tragic remains of a much-abused grape is not something to aspire to then we could peacefully coexist. If the only contact I had with raisins was wrinkling my nose at the demonic woman on the Sun-Maid packets when I walk past them in the supermarket then I would not have felt the need to publicly articulate my preoccupying dislike of them. But I do, because people keep insisting on inserting raisins into perfectly good food and ruining it for everybody with taste.

That's right, ruining it. This world would be a considerably nicer place if everyone would agree to stop putting raisins in otherwise tasty meals. Get the disgusting little beasts out of bread-and-butter pudding, stop destroying a perfectly good cream tea by putting them in scones, never let them get anywhere near couscous, and God help you if I find any in my coleslaw. People even put them in croissants. Croissants. Is nothing sacred?

Life becomes particularly difficult during the seasons of religious festivals. At some point in history and for reasons unbeknownst to me, British people decided that the main snacks at Easter and Christmas needed to contain raisins. Hot cross buns, mince pies, Christmas pudding – if Jesus is involved in a holiday you can bet raisins will be too. If there was ever a reason to stop believing in God this is it.

The very worst thing that can be done with a raisin (aside from creating it in the first place) is putting it in a food that normally contains chocolate chips. The most common victims tend to be biscuits and muffins, although from my experience no baked good is ever 100% safe from their ubiquity. How many times have I spotted a lovely-looking cinnamon bun, only to draw closer and discover, to my horror, that it has been infected with the shrivelled brown plague? Too many times. The feeling of betrayal when you bite into what you thought was going to be a delightful chocolate-chip cookie and instead your teeth sink into the abysmal flesh of a raisin is akin to what I imagine Caesar must have experienced when he felt Brutus's knife sever his spinal cord.

My crusade against raisins has been long, and I know that the end is not yet in sight. If I had my way anyone who wastes perfectly good grapes that could be eaten in their natural form or made into wine by making them into raisins would be hauled before the UN and made to pay for their crimes against humanity. But I know my limitations, so I'll settle for having putting them in biscuits outlawed in the meantime. We all know that anyone who bakes oatmeal raisin cookies is an arse. Don't do it, arses. You're letting us all down.

*Astute and regular readers will remember that I actually mentioned this at Christmas before launching into an attack on the dreadful Christmas cringe-fest Love Actually.