So you’ve read our magazine and you’ve seen top suggestions about things you might buy. Before you do anything, consider this list of the Most Unwanted Presents:

1 The exercise bike Ninety-eight per cent of exercise bikes are doomed to stand forlorn in bedrooms, unused except as an improvised towel rail.

2 The artistic vase I don’t care if you purchase it from a dying glass-blower and this is his last piece. It will spend its life on top of the fridge, until one of the children has the good sense to smash it.

3 The novelty director’s chair, embossed with name of owner Its finest moment will be the time it gets used as a mast for a ship made of blankets. Mostly it will be wedged, like a hostage, in the back of a cupboard.

4 Novelty mugs Every morning I drink my coffee from my Raymond Chandler detective cup. That’s the only one I need. I resent the spotted ones, and the ones with cats, and the pink swirly ones that say “My best friend”. I use them as painting mugs — and even then I hate them. They are like unwanted visitors. They gate-crashed their way in. They’re still hanging round the kettle saying: “Cup of tea?” Just occasionally, I might accidentally on purpose drop one, and as I sweep the broken pieces into a pile, I feel lighter, as if I’ve just done my tax return or insulted a long-standing enemy.

5 Cheap equipment The moody DVD player that only works when it feels like it. The noisy children’s dance mat — my mum got us one of those. We tried it and couldn’t figure it out. Eventually I buried it in the toy box and tried to suffocate it with teddies. Occasionally, when I’m cramming down the lid, the dance mat comes to life, sounding like a disco on a drowning boat. It’s like listening to Des O’Connor on a distant radio — I think: “Are you still going?”

So I’m fearing Christmas like I would fear the arrival of a four-year-old boy who has attention deficit disorder and a paint gun. I know it will trash the house. But what should we do for the people we love? Invite them round for swishing parties, I say, and make them bring a wrapped item of clothing, which must be swapped. (Socks aren’t allowed, nor shoes that have been worn for more than a year).

And if you’re visiting us, we don’t need anything, although I secretly want The Wire, series 1-5, but I don’t mind if I don’t get it. I used to adore Curb Your Enthusiasm, but when I got the box set, I stopped watching. Once you own something, it becomes hateful.

This Christmas I shall be giving out things that are ephemeral, such as advice, fine wines and goodwill. Ho, ho, ho.

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