Brush off the bunting and dig out the frying pan, it’s celebration time.

It might not feel that way – not to everyone, anyway – but for those of us who have grown used to being scared rigid by po-faced scientists, there’s good reason for a bit of a do.

Bacon butties are back on the menu. And sausages and burgers. Steak nights won’t kill us after all. We can eat a Sunday roast on Thursdays, should we feel so inclined. And Tuesdays – or all three. We will survive... probably.

There’s new science behind this latest change in dietary diktat. I’d try to explain it but to be honest I couldn’t be bothered to study the detail, since all that clever stuff will most likely be overtaken by another version next month. For now, though, I’m happy to feed my greedy little face.

There’s a caveat within the latest research (there’s always at least one of those): a little of what a meat eater fancies will not increase the risk of cancer but think of other hazards – heart, furry arteries, the weekly shopping bill, obesity, the planet overheating thanks to belching cows, to name just a few.

Right enough. And I might fall under a bus on the way home from the butcher’s. On balance and after not much by way of close consideration, I’m taking my chances.

Remember when butter was supposed to be a killer? Then it wasn’t. Now butter is what our mothers and grandmothers always told us it was – good for us.

And eggs. They needed to be limited to one or two a week. Life itself depended on egg austerity. Not any longer. Boiled eggs for breakfast, anyone?

Confused? Don’t be. Take any proclamation of imminent death by teatime with a pinch of salt, which will raise your blood pressure, apparently. But hey, so will the news.

It’s no doubt wisest to take heed of who might be funding research designed to make us change our habits.

Who benefits most from telling us what to do, what to think, how to wash the kitchen floor, how many cups of coffee to drink?

Wise, yes. But haven’t we gone wearily past that wisdom now? So many boffins bark orders threatening that we’ll die if we don’t obey, we’ve become accustomed to snapping to attention and doing as we’re told.

In this neck of the woods, where locally-sourced food is so important and abundant – thanks to Cumbrian farmers, producers and ethical retailers – we’re fortunate to have the pick of the best. It would be rude not to partake, right?

And of little benefit, said the international study team. Previously headlined risks were deemed minimal and based on weak evidence.

“We’re not saying there’s no risk, we’re saying there is only low-certainty evidence of a very small reduction of cancer and other adverse health consequences of reducing red meat consumption” they said.

The study itself has been widely studied and, from the University of Cambridge, came the conclusion: “This rigorous, even ruthless, review does not find good evidence of important health benefits from reducing meat consumption. In fact, it does not find any good evidence at all.”

Well, this lass doesn’t need telling twice – even though she’s been told what to do and when to do it for what feels like an age.

We’re all able to choose what to believe and how much to take on board. When wagging-finger types look us square in the face and warn us we’ll perish unless we follow their sponsored lead, we can accept or reject instruction. Because we’re grown-ups with minds of our own and – if you’ll pardon the expression – gut instinct.

We know something will get us in the end. Could be anything. If lucky, it will be a long time hence, in very old age, with a glass of something strong and delicious – exceeding ordered weekly limits of alcohol units – in one hand and a bacon butty in the other.

And if some clever devil stands at your shoulder, when you’re 108 and ready to go, admonishing sternly: “I warned you eating meat would be the end of you...” there’ll only really be one sensible reply.

“Pff!”