It's time we were honest with each other.
Marmite is only marmite.
The media's treatment of the Marmite drought is unhinged.
Television reporters have unearthed Marmite deprivees.
A newspaper described "Marmageddon".
When sales of Australian Vegemite surged 25% to fill the gap in the sandwich, it was "Vegepocalypse Now".
We read the country is hard pressed to survive until October, when some Sanitarium foreman will scale the Marmite derrick and wrench the tap back on.
New Zealanders will smile again as the black tar oozes into a national grid struck Marmiteless when Christchurch earthquake damage closed the line.
I think we should apply minds and conscience to serious questions about the Marmite myth. For example, if national Marmite addiction is real, why haven't the gangs shut down their P labs and moved into Marmitelegging?
When did you last see a tempting sign outside a cute country cafe, and dash in panting for your "Marmite Tea"?
Are Southern farmers buried with their pots of Marmite?
I think not.
If Marmite was critical, we'd have seen the History Channel programme explaining how Marmiteless German troops lost the war, despite their country inventing the Marmite brewers' yeast extraction process.
The 19th-century German chemist Justus von Liebig changed agriculture by replacing cow dung with nitrogen fertiliser.
Germany put his head on a postage stamp and, flushed with success, he went back to his lab and discovered the basis for Marmite.
"Did von Liebig rinse his test tubes? " is the question to ponder when spreading your toast.
When I was 7, I believed two delicacies stood supreme.
The first was sugared Weet-Bix suffocated by Highlander condensed milk.
The second, buttered Weet-Bix carefully crowned with a yard of Marmite. (Too much spoils the flavour? What tosh.)
But by 12, I was spent - Mum had made too many cheese and Marmite sandwiches.
Still, Marmite moments remain.
A while back, an Invercargill friend minded my house for winter.
When I returned, I found she'd left a gift hamper - one shot and frozen duck, and one pot of Marmite.
Her profession is the care of the wealthy in a genteel retreat whose kitchen is famous for its innovation.
But duck a la Marmite?
Last week, I phoned a friend who'd caught the latest flu. "Are you eating OK? " I asked.
"I can manage clear chicken soup," she croaked. "And Marmite crumpets."
Our Sanitarium Foods bought its New Zealand rights from the Marmite Food Extraction Company, an ancient English firm which poured its black bog into earthenware miniatures of a French cooking pot called a "marmite". (This column educates).
But if New Zealanders are a bit daft about Marmite, the British have a genuine problem.
Research shows this group pokes its knife into the marmite pot six hundred million times each year.
It must be a challenge for the government to keep the uglier sides of toast and Marmite addiction hidden - to hide the selfless Salvation Army soldiers wiping crumbs from the faces of gutter derelicts, and to cover up British Olympians disgraced by failing the Marmite test.
British "food writer" Paul Hartley found 100,000 suckers for The Marmite Cookbook, which enticed the gullible with challenges like haddock, artichoke, and Marmite chowder.
In London, Starbucks pretends to be English by offering the cheese and Marmite panini.
But British Marmite isn't failproof - the celebrity chef Gary Rhodes dumped a Marmite special from his restaurant menu after only one week.
The punters decided his ice cream with Marmite sauce had as much appeal as a fish milkshake or cheese vindaloo.
The British Marmiteers are extraordinary salesfolk. Their aged Marmite is put about as XO.
During the Queen's Jubilee, the company proffered Ma'am-ite.
And amidst fanfare it launches posh limited editions like Guinness Marmite, and Champagne Marmite, surely the Valentine's Day gift to end a marriage?
However, its advertising slogan is revealing and shows British Marmite understands its divided market. "Marmite - love it or hate it", it preaches.
The Marmite question is not about flavour, but types of people. Perhaps genetic research may establish Kiwi Marmite addiction does exist, and is predetermined - some of us are born with a Marmite chromosome, and others are not.
I don't know how the Creationists would interpret the Marmite gene, but surely it indicates the Marmitee is a helpless victim of Darwinist natural selection?
In which case, I should apologise for condemning too hastily. (And, of course, I exclude from all this Luke Bain, the young autistic Dunedin lad who relies on Marmite for medicinal purposes.)
• John Lapsley is an Arrowtown writer. johnlapsley1@gmail.com
