‘My Christmas peace offerings to Gregg Wallace and other deserving targets’

I’m often accused by some of you readers of being a bit hard on famous people. Of always looking for the bad side of those whom the stars have blessed. How, instead of taking politicians, celebrities, royals and leading businessmen on face value, I just take the pee out of them.

And I get that. As someone recently wrote (after asking if I have any mirrors in my house), “Why not give your cynicism a week off, now and then?”

Which is fair enough. And what better week to call a truce with the rich and powerful than Christmas week? So, without further ado, let me hand out gifts as peace offerings to all of my usual targets.

I’ve bought an Echo Dot for Gregg Wallace so, at least with Alexa, he’s got one woman who will still talk to him, and a China doll for Prince Andrew so he can indulge his dual passions, and remember why he’s Home Alone again.

David Beckham gets a condom, as it’s hopefully the only night hood he’s going to get this year, and after another textbook betrayal, this time of the WASPI women, Keir Starmer gets a box set of TV’s The Traitors so he can relax in the company of fellow double-dealers.

I’ve bought some soap bombs and a small plastic boat for Nigel Farage so he can live out his fantasies at bathtime plus a pair of incontinence trousers for when he wets himself with excitement at Trump’s inauguration next month.

I’ve got a trio of drawing pins for Manchester City boss Pep Guardiola so he can remember what three points look like, and some plasters to stick on his nose if another defeat makes him draw blood.

Bashar Al-Assad gets some cyanide pills in the unlikely event that he’ll do the decent thing, and Kemi Badenoch gets a month’s supply of her favourite lunch-time meal, a steak. Plus an equal amount of stakes to ram through the hearts of the vampires in her shadow cabinet.

The firms who run our top private schools get the smallest of violins for having to charge VAT, and the boss of every privatised water firm gets a chocolate fountain to remind them of the state they’ve left our rivers in.

Lee Anderson gets 30p and a DIY Miracle Guide so he can turn the cash into a healthy family meal, Jacob Rees-Mogg gets a Tardis so he can return to the 18th century and Liz Truss gets a full-length video of a mayfly’s life, to remind her of her time in Downing Street.

The Church of England Archbishops get spades so they can keep on digging over child abuse, and Liam and Noel Gallagher get a box of plug-in air fresheners to clear the stench of greed from the stage at next year’s ‘dynamically priced’ concerts.

I’m giving compasses to all former Post Office board members in the hope they can locate their morals, and a dozen boxes of Kleenex for Phillip Schofield so he can spend all Christmas weeping over his victimisation.

And to every millionaire who has fled abroad since the General Election, along with every farmer who is worth more than £3million, I’m just going to give them the money. Because apparently they desperately need it.

As for you, dear reader, just have yourself a very merry Christmas.