KEY POINTS:
There's just no good way to fake the fact that you hate the present you have just been given. There's the hasty stifling of the "Oh God!" to an "Oh good!" as you tear the wrapping off.
The direct lie of "I've always wanted one of these" while you wonder what the hell it is, and the plea to your husband - "Darling, look what I got" - in an attempt to buy some time.
As you endeavour to assemble your facial features from the mask of horror they sprang into on opening the present to something more beguiling and grateful, your husband responds with a "Darling, how lovely ... what is it?" just to annoy you and get a laugh. "Well, of course, it's a ... hanging thing."
"Fantastic, I was just commenting this morning that we just don't have enough hanging things, do we?" It's your husband again, having a laugh.
Some people are excellent at faking delight when they get a present. Most of them earn their living as actors and politicians, but it's no great badge of honour because you can only assume that they have been the unfortunate recipient of so many awful presents that they've simply had the required amount of practice. Which is really very sad.
Others simply don't bother. I once had someone ask for the receipt within minutes of opening their present. I was so astounded I claimed to have lost it even though it was sitting in my purse screaming to be let out. Some just come out and say those awful words: "I've already got one", or, "Did they have it in another colour?"
On Christmas Day I am willing to predict that one out of 10 presents received will be duds. Absolute howling masses of disappointment given to you by people who have not only known you all your life, but should know better. Your family. The ones for whom there can be no excuses for not knowing that you will find a left-handed can opener a little difficult to use as you are right-handed.
Or that years ago you chopped off your right big toe with a cleaver just like the one you're unwrapping. Or you once nearly died from anaphylactic shock after eating chocolate-covered peanuts just like the ones which are now cheerily sitting in your lap nestled in Christmas wrapping paper.
You will also have to deal with the latest trend of denying you a gift at all by making the decision, on your behalf, that you will not be receiving an act of generosity and love but instead will hand it over to a family in the Highlands of Papua New Guinea to whom you have just gifted a toilet. And a $50 one at that. No $260 calf for you.
This is a patently passive-aggressive act by someone who is trying to tell you that you lead a life of extravagant waste and it is time you learned to share. Which may be true, but quite frankly, sharing is overrated.
Or you might be lucky enough to be a gift drawer recipient whose present has the hallmarks of having sat on a dusty shelf, discarded and unloved, since last Christmas. Which is tolerable until you realise it is the very cake of soap or scented candle you gave them, last year, or was it the year before?
I'm also willing to bet that none of us will remember the dreadful presents by next year when it happens all over again. Because Christmas isn't actually about the gift, it's about the ritual.
The fact that for many people it's the one time of year extended family gathers around a table and shares food and wine. Candles are lit, everyone cooks their signature dish, crackers are ripped open, someone dresses up as Santa and nearly dies of heat exhaustion, someone falls asleep in the corner, an older relative says something either inappropriate, incoherent, confusing or all three and a lawn is witness to some underarm bowling.
We don't really care if we went to bed without owning the book we wanted, or the gardening set we craved. But we wouldn't have missed the get-together for anything.
