THE editor always wants us to be topical on this page, so that’s what I’m going to be. This week is National Pie Week. So I’m going to talk about pies.

Some may say there are more worthy issues, more deserving of newspaper attention, but they’re wrong.

You see, this humble but glorious dish is in need of protection, for a travesty is being executed across our land. Pie-lovers of Yorkshire, pick up your forks; this is a multi-pronged attack.

Every day, countless diners are being shortchanged and conned. In pubs and restaurants, in cities and villages, lads and lasses are being extorted and exploited. They’re handing over good money, in good faith, only to be fobbed off – with pies that aren’t pies.

We’ve all seen them – dishes that are described on the menu as pies, but which turn out to be nothing of the sort. Great dollops of stew, with pastry squares floating on top like flimsy rafts on a stormy sea.

Or worse yet, ceramic monstrosities with a perfunctory lid shoehorned in and welded to the sides, where it’s not a knife and fork you need but a hammer and chisel. It’s not good enough, and it’s not on.

Maybe this is our own fault. Maybe we’ve all turned a blind eye too often, and allowed standards to fall. Maybe pastry was in short supply during the war, and people fell into a rash ration rationale. Whatever the reason, enough is enough and it’s time to bite back.

The Panorama team has shown no interest and the so-called quality national papers seem unfussed. Pies are, clearly, too hot for them to handle and this battle, inevitably, must be fought and won in the north. So this is my plan...

Let’s set up a covert network of undercover agents and name and shame the shoddy chefs, those unable to distinguish between noble pies and casseroles with lids.

We can call ourselves The Pie Spies, collate intelligence, test out untried butchers and farm shops, and ‘out’ the repeat offenders.

We can discuss the respective merits of various pastry types, and rate manufacturers for meat, moisture, density and such like. We can be suitably grave on the gravy matters, and even produce reports on our progress, complete with pie pie-charts.

We can hold rallies and conferences, with badges and pithy slogans: Don’t shortcut on the shortcrust. Say aye to a pie.

We’ll even organise socials and charity dos to fund the fight. Maybe even themed karaoke evenings, with classics like Pie Pie Pie Delilah, or Pie Me A River. Sell Me Pies, Sell Me Sweet Little Pies. You get the idea.

Maybe, if I ask nicely, The Press will even cover the financial outlay, under some sort of Pie As You Earn scheme. After all, we all have to earn our crust somehow.

We’ll go on fact-finding missions to the wonders of the pie world. Places like Wigan, where a friend swears blind that his local cafe sells pie sandwiches.

And Scotland, where you can get macaroni cheese in a pie and where they value the delicacy so much that they go to the trouble of deep-frying it, just to reinforce its precious, priceless casing.

Some say you’ve never truly lived until you have visited a Scottish chippy. Or is it that you’ll never truly live again? I forget.

Either way, we’ll mobilise our army piece by piece, county by county, until we’re ready. And then we’ll turn our attention to our ultimate target: the Oxford English Dictionary.

There, in black and white, we will win our fight, and redefine the very word. No longer will pastry-topped stews be accorded equal status. The dictionary will say Pie: noun, a sweet or savoury dish entirely encased in pastry. That’s right folks; entirely encased.*

The Trade Descriptions Act can be amended, so it’s illegal to call a non-pie a pie, and we’ll force butchers, bakers and chefs everywhere to build cases that are watertight and irresistible – just like ours.

Don’t underestimate the challenge ahead, for it will not be easy and the steaks are high. But we can do it. The pie-oneers are on the march. Believe the dream.

* Except in the case of lemon meringue.