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This is a question Presents

What are you buying your loved ones this Christmas? We're looking for inspiration and reckon a big share-a-thon of ideas will help everyone buy better gifts this year.

BTW: If your family reads B3ta and you're worried about giving the game away then tell us what you bought last Christmas.

(, Thu 26 Nov 2009, 12:34)
Pages: Popular, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

I got my girlfriend ...
A bracelet she said was pretty Two months ago.
Is this a good idea ladies? am i being clever or will i regret it?
It has diamonds in it btw...

The rest of my family are getting boots Three for Two Stuff, even my mum.
Priorities right?
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 17:04, 16 replies)
My Dad is a scrooge and
will always be the tightest person I have ever met. He was a lot worse when we were kids because money was tighter then, however a little in-heritence (my mums side);p has chilled him out over the years.

You know you normally get to an age, i can only speak for men here, where what you get for Christmas isn't an issue because if you really want/neeed something you just buy it right?

Anyways one Christmas my dad opened a present from family friends. The shocked look resemled someone that had been handed a large piece of shit!

"They took my present" was the first auidble sense we got out of him.

Obviously we were all a bit confused at this stage and asked him what he meant. It turns out that every year my "MUM" buys this families kids presents as well as the parents and this year they had decided to give a different sort of pressie to all our family. It happened to be a well that produced water for X amount of people in an African village. Great idea!! so you would of thought. My dad insisted that it had ruined his christmas ( yes he did realy mean this) and he hoped the kids in Africa were happy with themsleves. It was a laugh or cry moment.....we all laughed a lot and still gets mentioned every Christmas. Weirldy enough they don't see the family in question anymore, i think there dead to my dad now HAHA!
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 16:57, 2 replies)
I've been a huge fan of Christmas for years and years
In fact you could say "I Love Yule Longtime"
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 16:31, 2 replies)
Works Secret Santa
This year I have the Managing Director. What do I buy him??? Well, nothing of course - he is a middle-aged man who wants for nothing. I will make him something. Mince pies, if he doesnt like them then in the bin they go. If he does/doesn't like them, praise showered on all staff as it would ruin the fun to reveal the identity of secret santa baker.

Last year I got the Chairman. With my £5 limit I bought him a CD of Carols from Kings College. Supper inoffensive Christmas tat.
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 16:31, 4 replies)
My Dad is a real charmer
When he first started dating my Mum, for their first Christmas he gave her...a cookbook.

Way to lower the bar Dad!
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 16:29, 2 replies)
I've gone to a lot of effort for my sister this year
I bought her "Where's Wally? The Wonder Book"

I then used a black marker pen to circle wally on every page.
She's going to love it, she isnt a very patient person so really im doing her a favor.
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 15:52, 2 replies)
Last year I bought Mrs SLVA a matching belt and bag
I even fitted them to the vacuum cleaner for her. Was she grateful? Was she fuck, and I was eating through a straw for at least 6 weeks afterwards.
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 15:37, 1 reply)
Well, there was this one time a few years back...
This is gonna be long...

When I was traveling South America many a moon ago, one of the small countries, I forget which one cos it's been so long, I bumped into an old friend of mine, T. Now, me and T hadn't seen each other in a while, as he was in a proper job, if you can call managing a band a proper job, and I was off slumming it around the world, so it was quite a surprise to see him there. We settled down to drinking in a bar as old friends tend to do, when T tells me his problem, in between drinking and almost shitting himself.

"The bass player's sick. Got food poisoning. And we've got a gig tonight, for the President. Can you help me out? I know you used to play bass, and we can't cancel the gig, so can you stand in?"

So being about as sober as Oliver Reed at this point, I slurred an agreement and make a joke about it being his Christmas present from me, having played bass in several bands before, and we carried on drinking for a bit, until T decided to drag me back to the hotel to get acquainted with the rest of the band. We meet, and I sober up ridiculously quickly when I meet the rest of the band. For I am filling in for John Entwhistle of The Who.

Terror gripped my spine and bowels, almost changing my nice white trou into a brown mess. We chat for a bit, well, I say chat, more like they talk to me and I have a frozen rictus of a smile upon my face and occasionally "Mrrr"" a response. We have a quick rehearsal, and I find I'm still as good as I ever was, and manage to fit in nicely. And then we all start drinking and snorting coke in preparation for the gig.

By the time the gig starts, I am once again blind drunk, stumbling all over the place and barely able to stand up. Completely off my tits. We manage to get through the opening few songs, covering Eddie Cochran and Marvin Gaye along the way. The crowd are loving us. Nobody seems to notice that I'm not actually John Entwhistle, or maybe they're confusing the two of us.

Eventually, we get to the encore, and as the sounds of My Generation start to fill the venue, one rabid fan starts trying to get on stage at my end. I tell him to fuck off, shouting it eventually, but he doesn't listen, so I poke him with the headstock of the bass I'm borrowing, forcing him back off stage, until eventually, he makes one final attempt to get on stage at the end of the song. I kick him off, take off my bass, and start slamming the bass down in front of him, daring him to get up whilst I'm swinging around this weapon. The rest of the band are destroying their instruments too, so my sudden destruction isn't exactly uncommon.

But, due to me being ever so slightly inebriated, during one flail with the bass, I slip on the cable. I lurch forwards, my hands automatically unclenching and going into "SAVE THE BODY" position, and my bass flies out of my hands, and hits the rabid fan straight in the neck. He promptly goes down like a sack of shit, and instantly loads of people are surrounding him, trying to revive him. Poor bastard turns blue, and soon kicks it. By now, I'm sat on the stage, head in my hands, sobering up very quickly and having one helluva comedown, gently crying.

And then, almost surreally, everyone starts cheering. Roger Daltry and Pete Townshend pick me up from the floor and we're joined by Moon the Loon for our bow at the front of the stage. Nobody's really fussed about the corpse, having just wrapped it up in a sheet, and I'm ever so slightly confused, but say nothing. Then I'm grabbed by security guards, and dragged off stage, to the nearest court as I found out. I'm mostly sober at this point, and dragged in front of a judge. By now, my sphincter is going into overdrive with trying not to release itself all over my trousers, and my heart is going at the same speed as Keith Moon's drumfills earlier.

"You, John Entwhistle, are responsible for the murder of our President."

"But I'm not-", I start to say.

"SILENCE!", the Judge bellows, and then continues.

"As our law briefly states, 'The one who kills the leader must take his place.'"

I suddenly grin. In the space of an hour, I have managed to replace John Entwhistle, stage a coup d'état, and become President in his place. Life was good for me. I stayed there for several decades, enjoying the sunshine and women and good music, all the while pretending to be John Entwhistle.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how I became President of a small South American country. Or as I like to call myself, Prez Ents.

I am so very, very sorry.
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 15:15, 8 replies)
Santa Bollocks
For Christmas I would like some new swearwords as I've worn all my old ones out; 'Wank' is now limp, 'Shit' smells funny, and 'Cunt' has a hole in it.

Apologies for Oxford comma.

In other news, I've been a member here for 3 years now. Time flies.
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 14:52, 19 replies)
Dog cock?
My boyfriend collects computers, mostly old workstations and servers. He already has upwards of 60 of the buggers. Naturally, he's asked me for more. The concern is that if he decides to move in, I'll be stuck with the same systems I'm trying to get rid of.

I need to give something consumable, that can't come back to me. Maybe I'll just opt for something from Zeta Pawz. At least I wouldn't mind if that comes back to me.. or in me.

Yeah, I know. Fucking furries, etc.
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 13:45, 5 replies)
My mate is getting nappies and baby stuff as she's due in April
My fella is getting tonns of vitamins such as L-Carnitine, as he asked for it; a grow-your-own chilli set, a year planner and some Boots Botanics stuff

My brother and boyfriend's dad are getting Boots Botanics stuff

My mum is getting some Olay, Botanics and a Snuggie, as she's getting chemo and is cold all the time

My sister is getting Boots Botanics

My two nephews are getting Lynx sets (they're 14 and 13)

My niece is getting 'In the Night Garden' pyjamas

My fella's sister is getting some sort of boots gift set

My fella's mum is getting a photo album and The Lost Prince

I haven't decided what the Secret Santa one will be. Probably from Boots; three for two, fuck yes.
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 13:10, 2 replies)
My wife and I have adopted two boys (Bert & Ernie) and after having them only six weeks I have know taught the eldest(he's five) the Fawlty greeting.

Me: Morning Fawlty!

Him: Morning Major!

Every family gathering (especially the wife's) I shall turn to Bert across the room and loudly say "Morning...." etc
I can't wait to see their faces. It'll be my gift to them :)
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 13:05, 3 replies)
Gift Warfare
The hardest person to buy for at this time of year without any doubt is my mate Steve. We’ve built up a bit of a tradition over the past four or five years of finding each other the most hideous, indescribably useless, plain fucking awful crap known to humankind. A couple of years ago Steve gave me a weird centaur toy he’d made from a second-hand action man, one of his kids battered old My Little Pony’s, and the liberal application of his lighter to melt the fuckers together into one gooey, scary-as-fuck single entity. But Steve lost. I actually fucking loved that centaur. In return I gave Steve a subscription to Women Only, delivered to his workplace on the 1st of every month. He threatened me with castration over that one.

But this was somewhat eclipsed last Christmas.

I was staying down in Penarth with my girlfriend’s Liz’s family, doing the ‘sorry I’m fucking your daughter but I’m not really that bad, honest’ routine with her parents. Generally trying to pretend to be a decent, upright God-fearing young fellow for the duration of my stay. It get’s round to Christmas Day. As is traditional in Liz’s household, all the pressies are brought out and placed on the dining table after the fuck off huge Christmas dinner (I swear we’d just devoured the honey glazed corpse of a pterodactyl). We then take it in turns to go round the table, open a gift, look all delighted and as pleased as a Preist who’s just successfully drugged and gagged a choirboy and dragged the poor fucker into the vestibule, and then we move on to the next person to watch them open their pressie.

My girlfriend and I had carted all our gifts up from London. Seemed pretty pointless but Liz wanted her parents to see what a nice boy I was, how many lovely gifts I’d bought their daughter (thankfully all the stuff that needed batteries or were wipe clean were left at home). The pile of gifts if reducing, then I see something. Something in a different type of wrapping paper than the others. I see its got my name on it.

I lean over to Liz and whisper: “Wassthat?”

Liz leans close and whispers in my ear: “’S from Steve. He dropped it off while you were working Christmas Eve.” This was the first time I considered it might have been a good idea to have told Liz about the Women Only subscription…

I felt my sphincter clamp shut, my palms go sweaty…

Eventually, having opened all the others with my name on, I reached forward and picked up Steve’s gift. It was quite small, felt… like clothing… crinkly clothing…

“This is from my friend,” I say. “Think I’ll open it later. It’s probably silly anyway.”

Liz’s mad old auntie, Kathleen, says in her sing-song Welsh way: “Don’t be silly! Go on, open it!” Trembling, I pull open the wrapping. I stare down. I gulp, rubbing my hands over the ‘gift’. Kathleen continues: “Go on, let’s have a look! Don’t be shy!” I hold it up, Liz’s mouth turns from a smile to that almost indistinct, almost imperceptible: ‘you’re in fucking trouble bigtime, pal’ frown.

Liz’s family stare.

And stare...

I go to put it down, mumbling: “It’s just a joke. I’m not, you know, I don’t like this sort of thing… I mean, I’m not into this… sort… of… thing…”

Then Kathleen pipes up, seeing me flounder: “I dunno. Seems practicle to me. A waterproof balaclava! Who’d have thought! Go on, gissa go!” Kathleen had had a few drinkies by this stage, she snatched Steve’s gift out of my hands and attempted to pull it on over her head. It took Liz’s dad and brother to wrestle the damn thing off her.

Kathleen was so taken with it, I was tempted to give her the damn thing for keeps… but the thought of her walking down to Tesco’s in Barry wearing a thick wooly cardigan, a pair of wellingtons, and a rubber gimp mask behind her thick NHS glasses nearly tipped me over the edge…
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 11:41, 11 replies)
Amazon Wishlist...
...is truly a thing of veritable beauty. I’ve e-mailed all my family, friends and associated hangers-on a list I’ve compiled via the nous and dexterity of Amazon’s “we-think-you-might-like-this” associative linked searches. Now, I’m a bit of a movie buff, so here is a list of DVDs I’d quite like to see under my tree come three weeks’ time:

No Sir, I’m Not That Way Inclined
Rodney You Wanker! The Rodney Lyndhurst Story
The Snow Plough Diaries
Excruciating Badgers
Ferret-Baiting Chronicles
The Clay Genitalia Modeller
The Clay Genitalia Modeller II: The Revenge
Cutting Hair For Fun and Profit
The Terry Nutkins Autumnal Balloon Ride
What Happened At The NEXT Sale...
1, 2, 3, 4, Alphabet
Slipping In The Fold
Diagnosis Of A Dichotomy
Basically: The Movie
Spectrometry Graphs of the First 30 Years of Existence: The Sequel
Down and Out at The Adventure Playground
I’ll Be Back in a Minute: The Arnold Schwarzenegger Story
Iron Man: Such a Prick-Tease
Candida: The Posh Name For Thrush
Dyslexic Midnight Runners
Jade Goody: Staying Alive
Jade Goody: I Won’t Let This Beat Me
Pry, Mark, Pry
Kylie Minogue’s Edible Bible
Minge, Binge, Cringe: Dr Seuss For Adults
Watchmen: A Documentary on the Making of Rolex Timepieces
Winnie the Pooh and Tigger’s Springtime Gangbang
The Crayfish Genuflection
Abattoir Japes
Bridget Jones Comes "On"
Paedophiles: Society’s Unsung Heroes
Stinking Turban Warlord
Tinker Tailor Soldier Molester
Velvet Mustard
Dr Foster’s Hairy Snatch
Dr Silver’s Wonderful Mouth
Renaming of the Shrew
The Rise and Fall of La La Gabor
Barely Touching the Sides
Josef Fritzl: Housesitter
Batman Takes 12”
The Florist and the Machine
Harry Potter and the Bloody Great Big Wand
Harry Potter and the Wizard’s Sleeve
Harry Potter Keeps His Kit On

Fingers crossed!
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 11:40, 6 replies)
when pretty skint (as per bloody usual)
i took a mate who was joining my family as he didn't have much place else to go up the hill behind my folks house (google maps link in replies for the mapgeeks), lit a small fire in the frost from twigs i'd grabbed as we went and warmed two post-thermos metal mugs of coffee before chucking far too much brandy in it and sparking up.

"Happy Christmas Mate. I got you a view"

I'm pretty proud of that one. Better than i usually do.

(edit: added a link on how to get there, has some pics)
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 10:57, 4 replies)
in a similar vein
All i want for christmas is glue
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 10:14, Reply)
All I want for christmas is you.
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 10:09, Reply)
hedge porn
for all!!!!!!
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 8:54, 3 replies)
like many others, i'm broke
therefore my fiance is getting the wii gun controller packaged with the duck shooter game and some ten-dollar jeans off ebay, his mother is getting some bead jewelry i'm going to make for her, and all my family is getting baked goods. (yay cookies!)
not being a demanding gal, i've asked for, in return, a $20 used exercise bicycle off of craigslist. (which i also put on my secret santa list at work; can't wait to see someone come in with THAT thing and set it next to my phone jockey cubicle.)
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 5:12, Reply)
This year my brother and sister-in-law, other sister and her boyfriend are all in Australia for Christmas. I have about A$400 left from my visit a few years ago, so they're getting cash and my 9-month-old niece is getting a baby-sized Ramones T-shirt.

She's going to look ace.
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 1:55, Reply)
OK, so I'm only 31. I still think I'm a young little badfox. But I'm worried about age because I actually want to get socks at Christmas. Is this wrong?
(, Tue 1 Dec 2009, 0:40, 8 replies)
Expensive boxes
I can gaily recall the excitement that ran through my 12 yr old mind when I opened up a big box from my aunt one year. A brand new mobile phone (before the days when kids had them). I was in heaven even though I didn;t really know what one was for. My younger brothers face lit up when he opened up a similar expensive looking box of treats.

Imagine our surprise when we tore off the tape and opened up the boxes to find they contained nothing other than bad taste brown knitted Christmas jumpers... :( my family have never laughed so hard at our faces.

I know rarely get excited when I open up something that looks good until I've opened up the underlying packaging!
(, Mon 30 Nov 2009, 23:23, Reply)
And birthdays!!!
Am I the only sensible one who has a birthday in the summer?

I'm am sooo skint this month and have been since August. had a small cheap holiday forgetting my car insurance, tax, service and MOT were due in the first week of Sept. Then had my cam belt and water tank go in my car at the start of Oct and now my brakes and discs have just gone and I have no money for presents.

To top it, it's my brothers birthday this week, my other brothers the day after boxing day, my sisters the first week of Jan and my gf's 5 days before Christmas and I can;t even afford to buy bread for myself!

My family are all on a budget so it's not too bad but I'm stuck for useful ideas and inspiration to be unique. don't want to get lumbered with buying book tokens as per normal as a birthday and christmas present as that kinda sucks out the excitement.
Gf i've had some ideas of things she's hinted with which won't break the bank (or credit card in my case).

Does anyone have any good ideas for for two sets of unique presents I can get quite cheap for all in my family? Done the old 'hot water bottle teddies', books, tokens, cd's dvd's etc... which all prob end up on landfill anyway. Looking for inspiration.
Gf's sorted with a lump of coal (she just moved house to a new place with real fire so it's more the amusement factor (plus she'll then get quite a few presents on top...))

Usually love Christmas but this year the fun's being sucked out as for once I can't 'actually' afford 'cheap' things and I've never been able to draw or make things...

Thinking empty shoe boxes and claim's that they are filled with 'love and christmas cheer'...

*edit.. having read through more of the QOTW this week, I've had a couple good ideas... Quite like the look of the family portrait idea as the last time us kids had a photo taken for my mum was at my cousins wedding a good few years back and it's only a tiny digital pic. Also love the idea of converting my dads old films to dvd for my mum as he passed away over 10 years ago and they're currently in a suitcase in our study - would be heart wrenching but nice :) if not for my mum but the rest of us too... just need to find an old projector now!
(, Mon 30 Nov 2009, 23:14, 5 replies)
No fucking idea......
No really, I have no idea and it's December 1.
(, Mon 30 Nov 2009, 23:09, Reply)
I've got nothing this week
Instead, I am raving in my living room to the BBC News opening theme.

I know it's wrong, but I keep doing it.
(, Mon 30 Nov 2009, 21:43, 1 reply)
My birthdays 13th December (the big 40 this year!) so I often get a combined pressie; as I said earlier this year we're getting a new hot water system; boring but necessary. I did forget one thing though; were going to see The WilDHEARTS on 21st December; happy rockin' Xmas y'all!
(, Mon 30 Nov 2009, 19:22, 3 replies)
Use the force...
All the superlatives the 6 year old me knew tumbled wurzel-like from my over-excited mouth as I drew back the wrapping paper and uncovered the watch face to see Luke, C3PO and R2D2 standing almost heroically in the corner: "mega, ace, lush, nice, um, ace, smart, super dooper..." I ran out of words and instead shakily applied watch to wrist before telling everyone the time, all the time, every second like an unwanted, squeaky speaking clock.

I loved that watch like nothing I'd ever loved before. I'd wear it all day and all night, taking it off only to shower, bathe or swim and returning it to my arm within seconds of drying myself (wrist first) sufficiently not to let the damp seep into its magical innards. It was as though I wore the force on my very arm and I had powers I'd never felt before; time-related powers. OK, I had the power to provide an accurate telling of the time if ever it was needed, which it was... sometimes. It was sure to be the best Christmas present I would ever get and I swore never to lose it, lest I be rendered powerless like a freshly shorn Sampson.

Then it vanished. My first thought was a brutal act of sour jealousy on behalf of one sibling or other. I knew they'd viewed that marvellous time piece with immense envy and I wouldn't put it past either to steal or even destroy it in a fit of green-eyed rage. But no: my older brother would have boasted such an act only to increase my torment; while the younger failed to crack under even the most extreme torture, leaving me facing increased anguish in the face of both my lost watch and swift reprisal from my highly unimpressed mum.

Months later I was to discover the true fate that beloved watch eventually fell foul of... I was playing in my favourite corner of the garden - doubtless adding further camouflage to my den in the vain hope that I could protect it from being discovered by girls, or something - when my eye was drawn to a faintly shiny object, my favourite of all types of objects. I dug it out from the soil and noticed some familiar, tiny, golden feet just beneath the initial shiny distraction. Further excavation unveiled the legs, then body and head, along with some familiar comrades in a familiar stance: the paper face of my watch lay in tatters around me and, before long, with tears tumbling over my chubby cheeks, I found each lawnmower-chewed part of my once favourite ever Christmas present.
(, Mon 30 Nov 2009, 18:19, 2 replies)
I'm truly shit at presents
Just ask Mrs G. In fact, I think I've only once given a present that was just right. It was 1990 and our little Sprog was three. That is the PERFECT age for children to be - believe me, it's all downhill from there, until they produce the grandkids. That year, I was working as a cabinetmaker and I made a dolls house. Not just any dolls house - it had four cuboid rooms - each one a 300mm cube - cunningly fashioned from 18mm MDF with a backing of 6mm ply, a wide base of 12mm MDF and a front that opened in the middle, also 12mm MDF with brass hinges and a turning brass catch. There was a roof made from cladding nailed to pine battens, which lifted off (so that you could hide stuff in the 'loft'). It was brilliant. Two stories high, double fronted, windows cut out of the opening front with hockey-stick moulding for window-sills.

Mrs G. was in charge of furnishings and fittings. Each room was painted in emulsion and had a strip of wallpaper as a dado. Downstairs, the rooms were carpeted, upstairs they had cork tiles. Furniture was made from matchboxes, marge tubs, little boxes, with soft furnishings made from foam and bits of cloth. There was a toilet made from the handle and top of a plastic milk carton, bath, bed, chest-of-drawers. It was brilliant.

A couple of days before Christmas, I was painting the roof a lovely gloss red on the workbench in the conservatory when Mrs G carried the Sprog into the kitchen on her way to bed.
"What's Daddy doing?" she innocently asked.
"He's just painting something" said Mrs G.
"Whatisit? Whatisit?"
"It's just something."
"Is it a Christmas present for me?" - such prescience in one so young.
"Well, yes. Santa delivered it early and asked us to finish painting it for him, because he was very busy."

And so on Christmas morning, there it was - just taller than Sprog herself - the perfect home for her Sylvanian families, trolls and various other little friends. There's a picture of her in pyjamas with a knitted jumper from Grandma over the top pulling off the wrapping.

I'd like to be able to say that we've still got it today, though Sprog is now a grown up, but no - it was too big to fit through the loft hatch and I stored it for a while outside, under a bit of tarp. It got damaged though and eventually, with a heavy heart, I had to take it to the dump.

Still, we've got the memories. And Sprog's coming back home on Christmas eve to stay until the 29th.

Merry Christmas one and all.
(, Mon 30 Nov 2009, 17:44, 2 replies)

This question is now closed.

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