Out of care for the earth and sheer laziness, I've been buying from Riverford Farms; an organic 'you get what we grow' seasonal-type fruit and veg box, and as the festive season began its boisterous entrance, Riverford announced they were selling mince pies that piqued my Christmas curiosity and got my taste buds ring ting tingling, too.

It arrived in a simple box which visually spoke 'organic', 'good for the earth', and 'because of the other two points, I'm mightily expensive'. Flipping that mofo over I discovered that these mince pies were outsourced to The Authentic Bread Company, whoever the hell they are. I began to wonder if the bag of muddy 'organic' potatoes I also received, were the cheapest ones from Tesco, trampled into a muddy field, and then sold to morons like myself - because that is exactly what I'd do if I had this type of operation.

"Handmade, rich and buttery" the box begins before audaciously declaring itself almost to the point of legendary status. I'll tell you right now, that is simply not true. I've visited taverns on trade routes and spoken to the tired innkeepers to try and hear word of these pies, climbed to crumbling monasteries high above the thinning clouds to hear if ancient monks would whisper of such indulgences, attended banquets held at royal courts to coax answers from dignitaries, and nobody has even heard of these things.

I duly read on to see that they're "just wonky enough to look homemade" which seemed to be at odds with its opening statement of being "handmade", and also the "*Non-organic ingredients" annotation at the end of the Organic mince pies ingredients list made me question what is and isn't real on this planet. I wasn't sure what to make of any of it, so I opened the box to see the wonkiest mince pie I ever could've dreamt of seeing.

This poor bastard must've been handmade by a tree because there's no way that even I, someone who has never made any type of pastry, could even manage to get it to look that shite even on purpose. So, as I could feel my day slipping away from me like the £6.25 I had spent on this box of dropped-looking turds, I took a bite to see if the money was spent on the stuff on the inside. No, is the answer. I couldn't taste much of anything. It was like eating the colour beige which left a powdery aftertaste like sucking the flour off of a loaf of artisanal bread on a day when you're rather dehydrated. The lack of anything was like meditating in a calm field, which is splendid if that is what you're meant to be doing, but if you get that sense of 'nothingness' while eating then something is very wrong. The internal feeling I got was very lachrymose, I wasn't disheartened that they were crap, I just had this heavy weight of being lost at sea.