Before I get into this, I'm aware there are issues far beyond the fact that someone put a bit of That Leaf in my salad again and now I can't eat it; there are people in the world, as my mum would say, climbing across mountains with no legs.
But still, they probably didn't have to deal with the Slow Coriander Realisation aka when you thought you were safe, but it hits you and by your second mouthful everything's gone horribly wrong.
Today, I blew my last five bucks on a salad to ease those Monday blues and found that everything was pretty much infused with little green infiltrators (coriander). I was moved, people. I was moved to write this incredibly important, serious piece of journalism on why coriander is the devil and we should ban it from everywhere.
Rise up with me, and join the anti-coriander movement: #coriandHELLNO (the hashtag needs work, but if you say it aloud, it's quite satisfying).
Update: If we needed further proof that coriander is the worst thing food-stuff to have ever existed on this earth, Time is reporting the FDA (US Food and Drug Administration) has banned the import of some coriander from Mexico, amid evidence that showed it could be contaminated with human faeces.
Seriously, guys, what more will it take for the world to boycott coriander?
Research suggests a dislike of coriander could actually be genetic.
As in, it's something you either have or you don't and it has nothing to do with being that annoying person who can't eat a salad because there's a specific herb in it. Who wants to be that person?
It's sprinkled on curries, it's hiding in wraps, it's chopped and lurking in anything to do with couscous that comes in a packet, and sometimes it can be found on the edges of my nightmares. I'm being chased by a headless ghost who looks a bit like my dad (sorry Dad, I can't control my subconscious) and all the while, there's a strong taste of coriander in my mouth. That, for me, is the worst.
Sorry, it tastes really, really, really gross.
Imagine if a small animal relieved itself on a leaf and then someone made you eat that leaf without you noticing - of course you'd notice. Because it tastes like leaf urine. How people can happily much on wee, I'll never understand.
And, as my partner found out during his 'I can make quesadillas so I'll make them every night' phase, parsley is used as a coriander replacement for those who are actually allergic, because it tastes exactly the same as coriander. I still don't want that in my mouth. OK, it's marginally better than the original, but it still tastes like a mouse has sprayed a seriously strong chemical all over your salad, presumably using a little mouse-sized hosepipe while wearing a tiny mask to protect its little mouse face. And then relieved itself everywhere.
WATCH: Buying and storing herbs. Post continues after video...
It just does. It has that spiky thing going on, and has anyone else noticed it's just a bit too green? No? Okay then.
Okay not exactly but if you're allergic, this seemingly innocuous little urine-herb can cause breathing difficulties, vomiting, diarrhoea and, in extreme cases, full anaphlyaxis which involves dizziness, rapid heart rate and worse breathing difficulties.
While not exactly fatal, it could be fatal if you were, like, on some stairs and fell down. Or driving a car. Have you ever heard of someone vomiting over some basil? Exactly. Stick to basil.
'How can you not like coriander?', 'But you're vegetarian - you can't afford to be picky' and 'I really like it' are just some of the really great comments I get when I've bought something and can't eat it because it tastes strongly of chemicals.
Which is really helpful, especially considering the fact that stuffing up your meal choice is just about one of the most devastating things that can happen, so I'm already really emotional.
Right now, I'm staring at the salad across the office with such pain in my eyes that colleague gave me one of her bananas out of pity. Your comments aren't welcome here: I'm already in a world of pain.
Good luck finding a nice boxed salad that isn't full of coriander, mate, because you'll be looking for about 10 years.
While some are easier to pick out, others infuse everything with the stuff and the best part of this whole shambles is that they often don't state that coriander is on the label.
A certain food outlet who shall remain unnamed only lists coriander on a few of its salads, but I bought an apparently Satan-Free one and it was brimming with the stuff.
In order to get my money back, I had to say I was allergic to coriander to really hit home the severity of the situation, because saying 'But I walked all the way back to my desk and then had to come all the way back and it was really annoying' doesn't quite get the message across. But they need to know what they've done.
They need to understand the horror of tucking into a salad and realising that something is rotten in the state of Denmark (Hamlet quote - I don't only eat salads in Denmark). So I lie. And I hate myself for it. But the coriander made me do it.
This article originally appeared on The Debrief