Of all the absurd hills I’ve gladly chosen to die on, this one might be the most truly ridiculous yet. But I firmly believe in my heart of hearts that Chelsea Peretti, she of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and everything else under the sun, has unveiled herself to be a global outlaw who brazenly thumbs her nose in the face of all known Gods thanks specifically to her beyond-bonkers views regarding the eating of cake.

Don’t believe me? Observe the following evidence.

Over the weekend Peretti, in idle fashion as many do, posted a shot of how she consumes the dessert treat on Instagram.

Immediately: Alarm bells.

Not that into frosting” what kind of murderous loose unit is “not that into frosting.” What kind of insane statement is that. What kind of unhinged, bloodthirsty, spine-bending series of words is that. Enjoying cake but despising icing is like accepting a sausage in bread fresh off the barbecue but declining a squirt of sauce. The two are a package deal; you should not get to pick and choose.

More to that, the complete stripping of the cake flesh from the icing skeleton is perverse; it’s like a butcher frenching a rack of lamb except I hate it.

Unsurprisingly, such an admission of absurd wrongdoing split reaction cleanly down the middle between those who will be shown to be on the right side of history condemning it, and those rogue supporters who are all now clearly on some sort of Government list.

Frankly, I’m rattled to the core about this. Without frosting, cake becomes dry crumbs held together by the sheer forces of evil.

To deny icing is to deny yourself a little more. It is the blessed Cakeman giving you a bit extra.

Is this perhaps a shade too pointless an issue to waste time and energy on? Perhaps. But consider this: Cake is the only thing that matters. So really, covering this is the only right thing to do.

Image: Getty Images / FilmMagic