I have a theory that Secret Santa was invented not as a heartwarming gesture of seasonal generosity, but as a chaotic social experiment designed to test the outer limits of passive aggression at the most festive of the time of year.
There is no gift quite so laden with subtext as the one you feel obliged to buy for a colleague whose name you randomly drew from a hat (or, more likely, an Excel spreadsheet), capped at a painfully uninspiring £10 budget.
