Christopher Hirst: Give up skate in black butter? Surely not?

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Cod, haddock, halibut, sea bass, monkfish: the new deadly sins for ethical consumers

Talk about galling. There can be few fish-lovers who hear the glum news from the Marine Conservation Society without feeling a stab of ironic dyspepsia.

How can it be that the very moment the British have woken up to the marine riches that surround us on every side, they suddenly vanish? For generations, this island race has viewed all fish (with the exception of the battered variety) with dark suspicion. This changed only a few years ago, mainly due to a genial entrepreneur from Cornwall. St Rick of Padstow popped up on the box and we couldn't get enough of his fishy gospel. In the cookbook accompanying his first TV series, Mr Stein gave us skate with black butter. "This is one of my favourite dishes," he wrote. "I'll never drop it from my repertoire at the restaurant." How we drooled. In his second series, he proposed roast monkfish with parma ham and sauerkraut.

"This dish works extraordinarily well because the slight blandness of the monkfish contrasts most pleasingly with the acidity of the sauerkraut." Gimme, we yelled. In his third series, Rick trotted off round the world and came back with seared swordfish with mushroom gravy. "It works fantastically well." We chewed the TV screen. Yum, yum.

But now, like five minutes later, we learn skate is extremely rare, monkfish is over-exploited and swordfish grow only to the size of a penknife. How can it be? We've only just started eating these finny denizens that taste so good and are so healthy for you.

Britain was the country that allowed Edward Heath to give away a good chunk of our fishing rights so we could enter the EEC. How we laughed over the white fish negotiations. We're laughing on the other side of our hake now.

The Good Fish Guide also says treats such as cod, haddock and the divine halibut are also at risk. I must say it is hard to see the haddock as an endangered species when the battered version you receive in Whitby restaurant overlaps both sides of your plate. That is a standard portion. The extra-large haddock is of Jonah-swallowing proportions.

But it's OK to eat such piscine treasures as long as they're from Iceland rather than the North Sea, says the guide. I must remember to ask next time I'm sprinkling on the non-brewed condiment in Scarborough: "Icelandic, I trust?"

How can we possibly have got ourselves into such a mad predicament? I already sense the clock hands whirling back to a pre-Stein era when fish, unless processed into something akin to sawdust, was a no-go area. Salmon paste sandwich, anyone?