So now it is child exploitation? Nevermind!

According to Spencer Elden's lawyers, the image used on Nirvana’s album cover has resulted in 'his widespread sexual exploitation and image trafficking'. As a result, he is seeking $2.5million in damages.

I spent many hours of my early teens trying to decipher the words of Nirvana's ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’. I think 'Weird Al' Yankovic came up with better results than me, however.

The song is from the band's hit album, Nevermind, which has sold over 30,000,000 copies to angst-ridden teenagers across the world since its release in 1991.

The album's front cover features a naked baby swimming in a pool, apparently chasing after a $1 bill attached to the end of a fishing line. You can also see the baby's penis.

For thirty years, this was not a problem. To be honest, it still isn't a problem.

That is, of course, unless you happen to be the chap on the album cover, who, after a few decades, has decided that the whole world seeing his 'baby penis' is little other than child exploitation.

According to Spencer Elden's lawyers, the image used on the album cover has resulted in 'his widespread sexual exploitation and image trafficking'. As a result, he is seeking $2.5million in damages.

This is, of course, all nonsense. After all, he has been remarkably comfortable with his alleged sexual exploitation until now, recreating the album cover on the 10th, 17th, 20th and 25th anniversary of the album's release.

Clearly, the symbolism of the album art in mocking capitalism and the pursuit of money (edgy!) has failed to make an impression on Mr Elden, who has spotted a potential cash cow in need of urgent milking.

Today, an entirely non-sexualised image of a baby's penis can be disputed to be 'child pornography'. Let's hope holders of such beliefs never look too closely at a cherub on an old building or book a holiday to Brussels, lest they walk past Manneken Pis.

It is worthwhile wondering, however, to what extent this pathetic and grasping example of litigiousness has been made possible by the hysterical worship of victim status in the modern world.

Everyone, in the desperate search for some offence with which to equip themselves in the martyrdom Olympics, is bound to find something. The rush is then on to see to what extent it can be weaponised.

Someone touch your knee ten years ago without prior written consent? Quids in. Did someone ask you why your hair is curly? Ka-ching! Someone take a snap of your teeny-tiny tinkler three decades ago? Welcome aboard.

It's a race to the bottom where nobody has to do anything positive; a destructive, rotting trend which erodes society's bonds, with the perpetually offended grasping at the money or influence their fictitious hardships may bring.

Once we were a society that lauded endeavour and looked for its heroes among those who suffered through the glaring sun or malarial swamps of newly discovered lands.

Now we're a bunch of crybabies. Oh well, Nevermind.