FESTIVE pause for thought: Strictly Come Dancing presenter Claudia Winkleman reckons the only thing that slightly ruins Christmas is the gifts.

According to Winkleman: "There are lists, there are panics, there's an eight-year-old who cries because the Barbie isn't the right Barbie. You open a weird candlestick holder in the shape of a watermelon and don't have the heart to ask your cousin if she kept the receipt."

Bah humbug, I hear you cry. Well, that was my knee-jerk reaction too. But then the penny dropped: she makes an excellent point.

When you think about it, the exchange of Christmas presents is akin to psychological warfare. For a start, there are the eyewatering costs coupled with the anxiety of finding that perfect, heartfelt gift.

Then comes plastering on a "Wow, I-truly-love-this-utterly-naff-whatever-it-is" expression after unwrapping a heinous offering, while frantically racking your brains to fathom what on Earth you did to offend that particular person.

One of my all-time favourite stories of Christmas presents gone badly awry is the woman who received the baffling gift of three sponges from her husband. "I was told blue was for washing the car, green for the bathroom and pink for the dog," she lamented.

Other festive crackers – or should that be turkeys? – include stretch-mark cream; a tin of hamburgers; a second-hand broken vacuum cleaner; a medley of saucepans; a dusty bath set with the previous recipient's name-tag still attached; and a diary three years out of date.

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How ungrateful, I hear you chide, it's the thought that counts. Well, indeed, if the thought happens to be: "Hold my beer while I nonchalantly offer up a gift-wrapped oddity that I spent less time choosing than I did tying my shoelaces this morning."

A face for radio

ARE you hirsute, missing copious teeth, inhabit either an absurdly large or small body and possess a face that resembles a shrivelled raisin crossed with a battered, leather handbag?

Then book your ticket to New Zealand where a glittering career awaits as a TV extra. Casting agents for the upcoming, big-budget Lord of the Rings television series are desperately seeking background actors to play Orcs and are urging the hairy, toothless and wrinkled among us to apply.

An Orc is a fictional humanoid creature that is part of a fantasy race similar to goblins. In JRR Tolkien's books, they are depicted as ugly and filthy, with a taste for human flesh. They are fanged, bow-legged and long-armed.

Two Auckland agencies have issued appeals to fill the roles in Amazon's $1 billion (£760 million) production urging those under 5ft or over 6ft 5in with "wonderful noses", "character faces" and "hairy, hairy people of all ages and ethnicities" to sign up.

Also being sought are "stocky, mean-looking bikers", "circus performers who can juggle" and anyone who boasts "natural red hair, white hair, or lots and lots of freckles". The fee is around £150 per day.

Do you know anyone who fits the bill? They could be looking back at you in the mirror. Although word to the wise: being an extra is a tough gig.

I've done it twice. The first was in the BBC drama Case Histories. I arrived on set in Edinburgh to interview the show's star Jason Isaacs. The actor, also an executive producer, extended an invitation to be in the background of a scene being shot in a seedy, underground bar.

The crew were aghast, hearts visibly sinking at the thought of their carefully chosen, hipster extras being cast aside in favour of a dowdy writer pushing the wrong side of 35. But I did it anyway.

The second time was in the comedy Still Game. There's an episode, Balls Up, in the penultimate series where shopkeeper Navid Harrid, played by Sanjeev Kohli, makes an eyewatering, crunching tackle during a walking football tournament.

As he's sent off, Navid elbows his way through the gathered spectators, including me doing an uncanny impersonation of Edvard Munch's The Scream as I hammily tried to convey shock, repulsion and pathos. Believe me, that acting lark is harder than it looks.

Sitting uncomfortably

IF you happen to be ensconced on the loo reading this – either in paper or digital format – then brace yourself. The days of a comfy perch, as some are wont to think of the porcelain throne, could be numbered.

A new toilet design has been unveiled with an upper surface that is tilted downwards at a 13-degree angle to increase strain on the legs, similar to doing a gentle squat thrust.

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According to developers from the start-up company StandardToilet, the design makes it uncomfortable to spend more than five minutes on the toilet – a dehumanising gimmick being pitched at employers keen to improve workforce productivity.

Talk about a slippery slope. Is nothing sacred? I will personally applaud anyone who comes up with a portable, cleverly shaped cushion to combat this abomination.