These are hilarious.
Apart from the hideous and totally useless oven-gloves I got one year (so thin I burnt both my palms and broke an entire lasagne on the floor as I picked up the dish from the oven, and yes, I still have the scars) I've done OK.
What is awful though, is the number of shit presents I've given. When I was little, I once got to Christmas Eve realising that I hadn't got anyone anything. So I swung into homemade action, and came up with things like a pair of home-made paper earrings for my Mum. Cringe.
I once even gave my baby brother a colouring in book which was already half done...
And the most awful one was when I gave my Dad a novel written by a famously gay actor. Now, I bought it with the best intentions, as he loves this bloke's work, and the book was all about Africa, which he's also really interested in. Sometime in January, he said: "Great book, really... interesting," so I read it.
Imagine my horror to find that peppering the text were the most graphic scenes of bestiality involving all kinds of lovely zoo animals, men, women, children, aunties, you name it, everyone gets it.
Mortified. I apologied, and he's such a sweetie and said: "No, really, as I said, jolly, er, interesting, darling..."
This Christmas it's all going to be fine, honest...