It would have to be a Monday even wetter and more miserable than today for one not to be cheered at the news that the Catholic church has extended its list of mortal sins - those for which you will be roasted over Satan's gas-fired barbeque for all eternity, as opposed to the mere venial kind which do not result in you feeling the sharp end of a Hell-forged toasting fork for the rest of time - to include new, more modern transgressions.

And not before time; the usual suspects have, it must be said, been growing a little stale over the centuries. Which one of us looks upon the prospect of blasphemy, wrath, bearing false witness, greed or shoplifting from Primark with any real relish these days? Even the biggies - adultery, abortion, contraception, sodomy - seem to be no more an offence against God as merely against the Daily Mail.

Published in the Vatican's official newspaper L'Osservatore Romano the list of mortal sins were revealed at the end of a week long refresher course for priests on the sacrament of confession.

Putting aside the delightful image of the priests behind handed a memo slip from the Sins Forgiveness Committee as they shuffle tiredly out of the door after a five day conference on the importance of thinking outside the (confessional) box, the new sins are drug abuse, genetic manipulation, morally dubious experimentation, environmental pollution, causing social injustice or poverty and accumulating excessive wealth. The latter comes with a special dispensation for the Vatican, presumably.

I have to say however, I feel a little disappointed with their choice. At first glance it appears promising; out of the six or so new sins I have only committed three - morally dubious experimentation being the cheapest and most enjoyable by far - which on the face of it leaves plenty as yet unexplored, especially exciting as I had already gone through all the seven deadlies by the time I was 11. But the others seem to be annoyingly unachievable even by the most dedicated of heretics. If I squint very hard I can imagine someday the possibility of indiscreet wealth, but I fear the chance to meddle with anyone's DNA will lie forever out of my sticky grasp. Tacit approval of such may well turn out to be enough, but it just doesn't give the same kind of inner satisfaction as say, actually coveting your neighbour's ox in person does.

It is most inconvenient for us completionists. I can't see any way around it. Unless.... you wouldn't happen to know of a filthy-minded scientist who fanices swapping a story about that time he made a sheep with seven legs for my approximately 502 tales of lust (assorted), would you?

Edit: Indexed provides a handy guide to effective sin combining.