Christine Rutter on the strange gifts Father Christmas should have left behind

THE DAYS of "grinning and bearing" unwanted Christmas presents are becoming a thing of the past, according to a recent survey.

Research by Argos revealed that three-quarters of people would prefer to be honest and exchange an unsuitable present - but the rest would lie and say they liked the gift . . . before hiding it in a cupboard.

Apologies first to all my present-givers but I admit I reside on the yellow-belly side of the street.

Not only do I conceal unwanted gifts in a darkened corner of my bedroom but I also root them out 12 months later and repackage them for someone else.

And those readers shaking their heads in disbelief at this revelation are probably adept at this underhand practice themselves.

Such a shade of custard am I that I actually fall over myself professing my love for a particular garish gift.

I have been known on occasions to put unwanted presents to good use when the giver hangs around for a sherry.

Two years ago on Christmas Day, I sat stinking of some horsey scent, clad in fluffy pink mules and a jumper so tight that I'd lost two inches when I took it off, listening to tunes by Frankie Laine.

Who is he? That's exactly what I said when I got the bloke's double LP. I later learned that my father had a liking for his music.

Why is it that people buy you gifts which are really destined for their toy box?

We've all done it.

I learned from an early age what it is to receive presents bought for the buyer themselves.

At the tender age of eight, when my pals were getting Bay City Roller socks and Birmingham Bags in their stockings, I received The Complete Works of William Shakespeare and a record of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake.

In fact, pondering my past, I've had a few useless, wacky presents. They include a rubber duck and ducklings, a giant pencil, a 40ft balloon-making machine (try that one at home), a coconut, a clock powered by potatoes and so many underskirts that if I wore a different one every day of the year, I'd still have enough left to kit out every player in the Premier League.

I've kept one useless present for years in the hope that some higher intelligence would show me how it works.

The contraption is a simple transparent tube filled with purple sand and a ballbearing.

I spent a good hour on Christmas Day imagining all conceivable uses for the gadget, from an egg-timer to a musical instrument.

Maybe it is just a thinking contraption. I'd like to hear from readers if they have come across such a whatchamacallit.

It is a Christmas tradition to have several identical presents each year.

I've had a bathrobe year, an umbrella year, a writing set year and, of course, an underskirt year. I've come to wonder whether the hours of shopping are all worthwhile.

The Argos survey reveals that most of us have short memories anyway when it comes to recalling what we received last Christmas.

Almost half of the men in the survey had no clue what their partners gave them last year, whereas two out of every three women could recall what they had been bought. So, if it's true, women should spend less time and money shopping till they drop and let the men fight through the crowds to find that special present.

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