I know this is going to offend some of you, but if there’s one day a year when it’s okay to lie, it HAS to be Christmas Day.

Think about it, that fake smile when you receive something truly hideous? A lie.

The gushing “It’s what I always wanted”? Another lie.

The “It’s-wonderful-to-see-you-second-cousin-whatever-your-name-is.” Big Fat Lie.

We all do it, we smile, we chuckle, and those of you that are really good even manage to gush with fake enthusiasm while internally you’re grimacing.

But you have to, don’t you?

Because upsetting friends and family at Christmas is the wrong thing to do. Which can mean only one thing: lying must be the right thing to do. Mustn’t it?

I’ll never forget the Christmas my brother showed his career in accounting is a waste of his natural talents. He really should have embarked on an acting career.

Like most youngsters, Jon went through a phase of wearing nothing but black T-shirts and scruffy jeans. To anyone under the age of 30, there is absolutely nothing wrong with this. But this particular year my mother, my aunties and my grandma decided this lack of creativity in his wardrobe could mean only one thing. The boy must be in need of new clothes.

So with Christmas on the way, they decided it was a perfect opportunity to buy him some new clothes.

I recall trying desperately to persuade them to buy anything else, but they refused to listen. In the end I gave up. Besides, I thought, surely his uniform of plain black T-shirt and jeans would guide them in the right direction.

Of course it didn’t! I can still remember the fixed smile on his face on Christmas Day as he opened parcel after parcel of brightly patterned shorts and T-shirts in every colour of the rainbow.

To his credit though, he changed out of his clothes, and spent the entire day wearing a hideous assortment of his gifts.

Grandma loved it. I still laugh when I come across photos from that day, not least because I know he did get some use out of the T-shirts…after he dyed them black several days later. But he’s not alone in his deception; when I was 16 I remember thanking all the family for my lovely new Snoopy and Garfield nightgowns (actually I was horrified as I wouldn’t be caught dead in them).

I returned to boarding school, put a For Sale sign on the noticeboard, and sold them to younger students for a tidy little Christmas profit.

I don’t feel guilty though, not after hearing that one of the blokes I work with has to drag out the horrendous dolphin water feature his mother once gave him every time she visits.

In a fit of bravado he said he would call her and finally confess he hates it, thus cleansing not only himself, but also his home of such ugliness.

That was now two weeks ago and for some strange reason he still hasn’t found “the right moment” to do it.

I suspect there never will be.

Enjoy your Christmas, may your fake smile fool them all!