The ceremonial carving of the turkey, one of the last Christmas traditions, is under threat.
Remarkably, this has nothing to do with EU directives on poultry conformity, or health and safety regulations designed to cut down on domestic knife injuries. Depressingly, however, it has everything to do with apathy and idleness.
It appears we have either forgotten, or cannot be bothered, to carve. If you have been invited over by relatives or friends on December 25, there is a high probability that your bird will be boneless; and a bird stripped of its skeletal frame is a sorry excuse for a festive celebration.
Over the past year, sales of de-carcassed turkeys, chickens and geese have risen by almost 40 per cent. Tesco predicts more than 220,000 of its turkeys and geese will wing their way through the checkouts having had their legs lopped. About a fifth of the supermarket's poultry will be sold as so-called crowns.
Sainsbury's also reports a surge in demand for legless meat and is anticipating a year-on-year increase of up to 40,000 units for its Taste the Difference turkey crowns. Diners will indeed be able to taste the difference, as their turkey will lack flavour.
The unpleasant aspects of modern life have given us new acronyms. We have grown use to ASBOs, NEETs and STDs. And now we must become familiar with HUCATs (Halfwits Unable to Carve A Turkey).
It is thought that the fast-food culture has had a major impact on the proliferation of HUCATs. A generation has grown up on mass produced, cheap, de-boned meat, which in turn has been subjected to all manner of industrial processes before being mushed up and reconstituted into sweetened and flavour-enhanced consumer products.
This processed food movement serves a double purpose, manufacturing dishes that require no preparation or effort by consumers - thereby ticking the "I can't be arsed to cook or carve" box - while pandering to the squeamishness of borderline vegetarians who don't like to think too hard about the source of their daily nourishment, ie cute farm animals and rubber-necked birds.
The turkey crown is symbolic of this nauseating trend, but it is out chavved by the fad for boned, rolled and stuffed breast joints. This culinary abomination is the bastard child of the traditional turkey. We once had a quiet Christmas and bought one of these joints on the basis that there were only two of us and two young children. A turkey seemed excessive, but the boned and rolled joint we opted for packed as much flavour as, and exuded the festive spirit of, wet lettuce.
Bones serve a fundamental culinary purpose, giving a roast superior flavour as well as functioning as an internal heat conductor. Few meats benefit from being cooked off the bone, with the arguable exception of beef sirloin (and kebab meat served at 1am with lashings of chilli sauce).
Revellers opting for dumbed down turkey don't know what they are missing. Waking gummy-eyed and mildly hung-over on Christmas morning, rolling up your sleeves and plunging your hands inside a well plucked bird is the very essence of the festive season.
Without coming over all Nigella Lawson, I simply love working my fingers inside the skin of a turkey and smearing butter over its plump breasts. Then there are the legs, thighs and wings to attend to.
Crumbs, after all that action I'm ready for the first sherry and Red Bull of the day.
Then it is a question of sitting, drinking, mucking in with some peeling, drinking some more, and waiting for the moment the bird is cooked and ready for carving. Hungry children gather round, begging for tasty off-cuts as the cry of "Is that bloody gravy ready yet?" echoes around the house.
The carving itself is a piece of cake (if there's a joint, just crack it) and the fact the meat is attached to the carcass means it retains moisture for the evening run of sandwiches.
You then have the basis for a tasty soup, or can join in my mother-in-law's yuletide tradition of putting the carcass out on the bird table. We then take bets on how far the seagulls will get before dropping their cannibalistic prey into the North Sea. You just don't get that fun with a boned turkey joint.