Contrary to the beliefs of calorie-ignorant teens and Scottish mothers up and down the country, beef burgers are not a food that one should eat every day. With questionable nutritional value, high levels of fat and salt and buns, chips and fries as their eternal bedfellows, beef burgers are really something to be indulged in occasionally; as a treat, if you will.

When I happen to get an overwhelming bloodlust for bovine flesh, I turn to establishments I feel I know I can trust: Wetherspoon’s is a regular venue for me, as are most establishments that carry some sort of a royal stamp of approval (Burger King, Burger Palace etc.) But if I want to treat myself to some beef patties in the comfort of my own home, up until yesterday there would’ve only been one brand on my shopping list: Tesco Everyday Value range.

Now I know what you’re already thinking: ‘Marc – why limit yourself to such plain, ordinary offerings? There’s a whole world of luxury burgers out there!’ Well I know that – I’m aware of them. I know full well that for a few coins more I could get some that haven’t been deep frozen; a couple more quid and I could open myself up to Waitrose’s range: Beef and Camembert burgers; vintage port and cheeseboard beef burgers; sweet chilli and matured bison burgers – and so on. But I won’t give them the time of day. For me, nothing will cut it but a regular, ordinary, honest patty that holds up its hands and says: ‘Hey – I’m about 63% beef and I’ve got nothing but an afterthought of seasoning and celery in me. Deal with it.’ Keep your bourgeois beef burgers you ostentatious pricks – I’m a proletariat patty man through and through.

I digress slightly, but it is precisely the line of thinking I articulate above that caused me to feel such disappointment when it emerged that Tesco’s famed Everyday Value burgers contained up to 29% horsemeat. 29%. That’s more than a quarter, for those having difficulty with the maths – or nearly three tenths for those with an affinity for fractions. Basically a sizeable proportion of the burger in question – it’s pretty easy to grasp, don’t take too much time over it.

Horses –the preferred mode of transport of the rural upper-class; the shiny, fast beacons of hope for grizzled old gamblers across the nation; the mascots of banks and stars of emotionally-charged films and Sunday afternoon television re-runs – had somehow found their way into, what I’d been led to believe, were nothing but simple beef burgers. In what I can only assume was an ill-conceived plan to shift their range into Waitrose territories, Tesco had sneakily introduced the meat of majestic mares to their mixture and neglected to inform anyone about it.

Many were no doubt pleased as punch about the unexpected bonus. Indeed, a cursory glance at Tesco online reveals that they’ve apparently sold out of the burgers following what must’ve been a huge surge of consumer interest. But I was most definitely not one of them. I like my horses whipped about and forced into a deathmatch every April at Aintree – not humanely slaughtered and minced up into my food, thank you very much.

But what now? Where am I to purchase my home burgers from henceforth: Sainsbury’s? Too meaty. ASDA? Fuck off. I was – and still am – beside myself for anger at Tesco for leading me unwittingly into the world of pretentious, gourmet dining. An advert for Tesco just came up on the telly and I spat all over myself with undiluted rage. Where are my principles now? When I go barbeques this summer, how am I going to hold my head up high and decline a chilli, lime and gorgonzola burger now? ‘Oh! Would you rather have one of your fancy-pants pony ones instead, Marc?’ they’ll all sneer, then laugh. Cheers Tesco, thanks a whole bunch – I’m going to look a right cock.