HERE’S a puzzle worthy of, well, Hercule Poirot. What links Agatha Christie’s famous detective with one former archbishop, a clutch of grumbling bishops and a nurse making a fuss over what jewellery she is permitted to wear at work?

Before progressing further, it is worth pointing out that a grumbling bishop is not a type of cheese. That honour falls to the stinking bishop, which goes nicely with a chunk of fresh bread.

The grumbling bishop, on the other hand, doesn’t really go well with anything much. Clerical complaint is a dish best served not at all, if you ask me, but naturally enough they did no such thing.

At the weekend, six bishops joined Lord Carey, the former Archbishop of Canterbury, in a spot of what in high ecclesiastical terms is known as a right old moan. In a letter to The Sunday Telegraph – and there is a newspaper befitting a bishop, if ever there was – they said that the “discrimination” suffered by churchgoers in this country was “unacceptable in a civilised society”.

They continued with a thinly veiled attack on the Labour Government, harrumphing that traditional beliefs on issues such as “marriage, conscience and worship” were no longer being upheld. Then they moved on to the nurse.

People such as Shirley Chaplin leave me with mixed emotions at best. Mrs Chaplin has been in an employment tribunal this week because the hospital where she works will not permit the wearing of a cross. The necklace is an expression of her faith, she says.

Well, yes, I suppose it is, and if we are to be opened-minded about these matters, then sometimes we have to stand up for the rights of those who wish to wear crosses to work. But for all that, I can’t summon up much enthusiasm for this particular task.

It may be an unfair comparison, but cases such as this remind me of those stories about silly girls who get sent home from school for having outrageous coloured hair, or whatever. A fuss is being made for the sake of making a fuss, or so it is easy to suppose.

Those of us with no faith don’t insist on kicking off about our lack of religion; atheists don’t demand the right to wear crossed-out crosses; agnostics refrain from insisting on displaying jewellery fashioned into a big question mark; instead, they just get on with life, unencumbered.

As to the grumbling bishops, they seem to be making the sort of fuss that should be greeted with caution. Religion in many ways continues to exert much influence in this country; so when church leaders say they are being persecuted, we should remember that they also wield great power. Indeed, their complaints should probably be taken with a pinch of something or other (although probably not the smelly cheese).

It is fair to say that throughout history, and still today in parts of the world, Christians are genuinely persecuted for their faith. Sometimes, they are even killed. That is clearly not right and certainly is persecution; what the bishops complain of hardly counts as that.

And here’s another thing, and there usually is one of those. If Christianity is so devalued, how come this Government – as once led by the unfortunately messianic Mr Blair – has put so much effort into creating more faith schools? That hardly looks like the behaviour of those opposed to religion.

As for Hercule, the Belgian detective is portrayed on television by David Suchet, who has made the role so very much his own that it is hard to imagine any other actor donning the waxed moustache.

Last November, Mr Suchet, who was confirmed as a Christian about two years ago, complained in an interview that Christianity was being marginalised in modern Britain. “We are in danger of losing the importance of the Christian faith in our own country,” he said.

And I’m in danger of no longer wishing to watch Poirot, but that’s my problem.