Jeremy Clarkson reveals his worst ever Christmas present – as Sun columnists dish the dirt on their crappest gifts
THEY say ‘it’s the thought that counts’, but really?
New research has revealed that 73 per cent of us have had unwanted or useless gifts, with expired vouchers, a dead plant, out-of-date chocolates, weedkiller and toilet roll among the most disappointing.
Another study found that £1.2billion is spent on unwanted gifts.
Emma Pietras asked Sun columnists and contributors to reveal the least favourite present they found under the tree…
ROD LIDDLE
I WAS 11 years old, a fanatical Millwall supporter living in Middlesbrough.
I asked my mum and dad for a Millwall strip for Christmas.
On Christmas morning I hurried downstairs and saw the package which could ONLY be a football strip, and tore away at the wrapping.
As I was doing this my dad, in a rather subdued tone, said: “I’m sorry, but no matter how hard we searched, we couldn’t find a Millwall strip. So we got you the next best thing.”
And as I tore away the last piece of wrapping, I saw what they had got me instead.
A f***ing Crystal Palace strip.
JANE MOORE
A FRIEND gave me a fountain pen in a fancy box.
This was strange, because I had mentioned on multiple occasions that, being left handed, I never used one because my hand would immediately smudge the ink on what I’d just written.
But worse, when I took it out of the box and turned it over, it was engraved with my friend’s name and the words, “Happy 18th, from Grandma xx”
JEREMY CLARKSON
AN uncle decided that because I was at a school where they taught Latin, I must be in some way “brainy”.
So he bought me a book called Christian Art.
Two things I’m not interested in: Christianity. And Art.
ULRIKA JONSSON
THERE have been a few over the years but I guess the worst ones were from when I was younger.
When I was about ten a colleague of my stepfather’s family bought me a small hat made of mirror beads and sparkly things.
It wasn’t a beanie, just a hat that covered the crown of my head exactly, like the hat worn by Agnetha in Abba when they performed Waterloo…
I was ten! I had no idea what the hell to do with this thing.
Imagine turning up at the village disco wearing that!? It was embarrassing and ghastly and I never ever put it on my head.
Rather wish I’d kept it now because it would doubtless be considered ‘vintage.’
ADRIAN CHILES
MY grandad was the most reliable present buyer.
If you dropped enough hints, he invariably delivered.
And was always keen to get the credit, I’m now told he always refused to pretend a present of his was from Santa.
One Christmas my brother and I were intrigued by matching presents for us under the tree.
The packages were worryingly small, about half a shoebox, but promisingly weighty.
We shook them, turned them around in our hands, and speculated wildly.
Christmas morning came and the excitement was overwhelming. Off came the wrapping.
Electric toothbrushes. Aaargh. Christmas was never the same again.
SALLY LAND
MY worst gift has to be when my then boyfriend got La Perla and La Senza mixed up.
I unwrapped a “pump-up black bra” which you could inflate or deflate depending on whether you wanted a bit of extra cleavage or not.
It came complete with mini pumps which fitted in pockets under the cups.
The present giver blamed the shop assistant for bamboozling him.
Needless to say the offending bra got sent straight back – although the boyfriend did become my husband.
TONY PARSONS
IN our house we dreamed of out-of-date vouchers. Dead plants were the stuff of fantasy.
For at Christmas 2019, I was given a 9-DVD box set of Suits – a little known and even less watched and rarely enjoyed American drama series starring Gabriel Macht, Rick Hoffman and the unknown Meghan Markle.
There was no cellophane on the boxed set, a dead giveaway that it was sloppy seconds or sloppy thirds or worse.
And I tried, dear reader but a couple of minutes of this slick, vacuous rubbish was like staring into the void. The Sopranos it wasn’t.
Suits, in all its shiny emptiness, was not my thing at all.
One of those unwatchable shows that languishes in an anonymous cranny of the TV world because that is exactly what it deserves.
Tenth-rate soap opera dressed up as compelling drama.
The box set contains all 134 episodes of Suits. I must have managed about 134 seconds.
ALLY ROSS
THE year was 1976, I was nine years old and full of expectation.
But I knew the moment I opened the present that Christmas Day was never going to be quite the same again.
A string dispenser. For the dispensing of string.
Not exactly a priority when you’re a nine-year-old boy who longs for football kits, more football kits and anything but a bloody string dispenser.
Worst of it was, though, my parents were sticklers for good manners, so I had to write a thank you letter to the family friends involved that reeked of sincerity and contained not even a hint of the sarcasm and ingratitude I truly felt.
You try it. Go on. “Thank you for the string dispenser. And when I say ‘thank you’, I really do mean thanks a bunch. There is no Santa Claus, Ally.”