I am a supporter of many of Britain's great institutions. I sing the national anthem, I use Royal Mail, and I prefer not to have my tits out when the Queen's on the telly. However, in an attempt to eat less wheat, I decided to abandon my raisin wheats, and take a bold step into the world of a new cereal.

Weetabix, including its unfortunate spelling, have been an irreplaceable feature of British life since 1932. Some people eat them dry, some people drown them in milk until they are a mush reminiscent of grainy monkey's brains. Some people even eat them warm, or with fruit. The plainer a breakfast cereal is, then generally the more flexible it is in terms of how one serves it, and Weetabix has always been a leader in this field thanks to its superior qualities of transformation. The application of milk to Weetabix can be controlled down to the smallest splash to get the perfect consistency for the Weetabix lover. Weetabix is a cereal that is totally in your control, and for me, this has always been one of its greatest strengths. Whereas with other cereals there is an inexorable decline from crunchy to mush as soon as the milk goes in, Weetabix gives you the option to make it as mushy or crunchy as you like. It is truly a control freak's cereal.

It is with great regret, therefore, that I have to say its recent evolution, the Oatibix, is a disgrace to the Weetabix name. On first inspection they look much the same as a Weetabix, although, and this is a telling portent of doom that I should have heeded, their grainy innards look more tightly packed than in a standard Weetabix. So I put my Oatibix into my bowl, and I pour on the milk I would usually to make my thick mush with Weetabix. I watch the top of the biscuits turn white and gloopy, and I find this promising. I notice the milk is all but gone, and am looking forward to pushing my spoon into the wonderful grey yielding surface, and seeing the grains softly tear apart to expose the mushy biscuit centre. I push my spoon into the biscuit and instantly I know something is wrong. The surface has yielded, but barely three milimetres in, there is resistance. I push harder, and with a truly disappointing gravelly sound my biscuit splits open to reveal a distressingly dry centre.

Being the forgiving sort that I am, I pour more milk onto the now ruptured biscuits. I see the milk sucked into the biscuit. I try the spoon again. The resistance, although lessened is still there! In desperation now, I realise I am too far steeped in blood to turn back now, and I pour more milk into the bowl. And some more. And some more. But now it is puddling, and I realise the biscuits aren't absorbing it anymore. Hurrah, I think, they've been saturated! I eagerly anticipate the glorious much on my tongue, and dig the spoon in once more.

My heart sinks. My brain howls in confusion.

In the pool of milk, I dig into a gravelly crunch to reveal... a dry centre.

This is beyond anything I have experienced before. The Oatibix is actually constructed of such tightly packed oats that milk cannot physically penetrate into its grainy fortress. The outer edges saturate themselves as far as they are able, but the core just will not accept liquid until it is physically broken down into a fine powder.

Weetabix gave us choice. Weetabix empowered us to have our cereal as we wanted, down to form, consistency, and flavour. Oatibix spits in our faces and tells us mush-lovers to go suck our spoons. The dry-eaters will love these hardened little things. I, however, like many out-there, am a dedicated Weetabix mush-eater, and I am saddened, disheartened, and feeling thoroughly abandoned by Weetabix. Why would they treat loyal customers so? Why take away our choice, and our freedoms? What do they have to gain? Have they done studies revealing the superior portion of revenue that dry-eaters supply to the company? Have they signed a contract with the government to provide a joint-cereal and council-housing insulation material? Whatever the reason, Weetabix have made their statement: Oatibix is not for those who like choice in their cereal. In these desperate times, it is Oatibix's way, or no way. The liberal Weetabix have produced the totalitarian Oatibix, and I, for one, am afraid of what sort of events this may precede.

This is a dark day for Weetabix lovers. A dark, mush-less, crunchy day, and I don't think we've seen the worst of it yet.