Christmas is nearly here, I can already feel all that festive joy and good will creeping up on me like Santa in a ninja costume. Those jolly Noel-loving dimwits at work bring a shiver down my spine. The Christmas party at work might be the worst thing about this ‘jolly’ time of year. A cheesy office party with an old fat DJ playing the golden oldies while sausage rolls and mini Cornish pasties mount up in the corner like a bizarre Christmas tree made of meat and pastry.

This week Beth the receptionist has been organising Secret Santa. Why? I don’t know. If you’re unaware of the tradition it involves members of a group being randomly assigned other members whom they then anonymously give a gift to. Let’s face it; no one’s going to receive anything that’s worth over a fiver, max! Why not just swap equal amounts of cash and get on with our work; because I have an annual report to do! One year I received two personalised presents, I suppose you can call them that, one was my own stapler with my name etched into; someone had snatched it from my desk and wrapped it in tin foil. The other gift was a pack of staplers. This was the best present I’d received at work; I was genuinely pleased to see my stapler again.

To be fair I’m not so great with Christmas gift ideas either. I get a lift to work from Old Bill; I just gave him an envelope with a fiver in it labelled petrol. He knew it was from me, he just gave me a solemn nod of the head as he pushed the fiver into his coat pocket. I might go all out this year and really get into the spirit of things, yeah! I’m thinking vouchers. They are always good stocking fillers. Maybe a five pound Waterstones’ voucher…well actually, I could just leave my job, as I’d rather face the arduous task of job hunting than witnessing the disappointed look of Jimmy in accounts when he gets my rubbish gift.