IT was with a generous slice of schadenfreude that I received the news that Tesco has overstated its profits by £250 million and suspended several of its senior executives pending an inquiry.

This came after the juggernaut had already admitted a loss of £400m. As ever, the City reacted like a spoilt child throwing away its rattle. Shares plummeted and billions of pounds were wiped from the value of the company. Cue much navel-gazing and speculative punditry. What everyone wants to know, it seems, is what's gone wrong at "Britain's biggest retailer" where "every little helps".

How you mislay so much cash is, of course, beyond my ken. All I know is that I have done my bit of late to avoid spending my hard-earned pennies within Tesco's maw. My reason for this has nothing to do with price. I've no idea, for example, whether a pint of milk or firewater costs more in Tesco than in Lidl. Nor do I feel particularly discombobulated when I wander into my local store.

This is in contrast to various branches of Marks and Spencer where, in an effort to track down quiche or eggs, I have been known to emit a scream and, in consequence, been marched off the premises in a straitjacket. By comparison, Hampton Court maze is easier to negotiate.

Tesco is not like that. I know my way around its shelves and can generally find things without recourse to a tantrum. Needless to say, the experience, if such it may be called, is far from enjoyable.

The lighting is brutal, the aisles are too narrow, encouraging customers to direct their trolleys as if they were Dodgems, and the space given over to cat and dog food makes one despair for the future of civilization.

Moreover, my route to the shop takes me along a residential street which is strewn with discarded plastic bags and cans. This does nothing to improve my humour. All I want to do when finally I arrive is escape as promptly as possible.

This sentiment, it must stressed, is not unique to Tesco. I could say the same of Asda and Morrisons and even Waitrose, where snobs go not because the produce is so superior but because they're less likely to bump into hoi polloi. Were it up to me, I would remove all supermarkets from the high street and encourage people who can't do without their wares to shop online.

No, what truly irks me about behemoths such as John Lewis, Asda and B&Q was their belated, ill-advised and cynical intervention in the referendum debate. According to them, were independence to become a fact, prices would rise abruptly.

This announcement came after a hush-hush meeting in Downing Street, the detail of which most likely we will never know. Nor, I would hazard, will we ever learn what, if anything, David Cameron promised the bosses of these companies if they joined forces with him and added their voices to those who foresaw economic meltdown in the event of a Yes vote.

But it was typical of the manner in which big business believes it can bully people into following its preferred course of action. It is reminiscent of how landowners in the 19th century used to treat their tenants, who could either vote as they were instructed or lose their jobs or their abodes.

It was a similar case with institutions such as the Royal Bank, Tesco Bank and Standard Life, all of which intimated their concerns about the prospect of Scotland going it alone.

In that respect, the latter has form, having made a similar intervention in 1997. Then, nothing came of its threat. Nor, one suspects, would anything untoward have happened had Scots opted to separate from the UK.

While everyone is entitled to their opinion, there can be no doubt that these companies were using their clout to intimidate not only their customers but also their staff.

I know of one young female employee of a major business who regarded with contempt the pressure put on her and her colleagues to vote No.

"I may work there," she said, "but it's not my life." It is despicable behaviour and shameless in its disregard for the democratic process. And it was surely counterproductive. May such businesses reap what they sow.