I distrust parsnips.

Picture the scene. You're sitting down to a lovely meal, plate piled high with roast beef, yorkshire puddings, roast potatoes and gravy. You tuck in to some potato - but it's not potato, it's parsnip. You're a guest, so obviously you stifle your first reflex (gagging loudly, spitting the offending matter onto the side of your plate and declaring 'Urgh! These potatoes are off, aren't they?') and politely chew until you can bear to swallow, your face all the time betraying your horror at the true contents of your meal.

Parsnips. Stealth vegetables. Not like other vegetables which have the decency to display their vegetableness proudly, so you can avoid them (or mask them with other food). No, the despicable parsnip masquerades as that most acceptable of foods - the potato - often lurking alongside real potatoes in the roasting tray, waiting to unleash its vile, sickly sweet payload.

I say it's time to take a stand.