With the Wii still in short supply, this year I'll be doing the same thing I did last Christmas. I'll put my sought-after console in a sturdy plastic case and take it to a nearby children's hospital. For two glorious hours on Christmas morning, I'll allow these miserable pallid waifs to look at my Wii from a distance of no less than three metres, and imagine the fun they could have with such a device, were their wretched parents able to sit all day on the internet waiting to see which retailers have the magic white brick in stock.
Then I'll hold a raffle - just £1 a ticket, for petrol money - and the winner will be able to approach the Wii and, wearing a pair of thick gloves (these kids are sick), after all), caress its smooth plastic skin for a whole minute while their cellmates gaze on in bitter envy.
Then I'll pack up my Wii, toss some fun-sized snacks over my shoulder and head home to spend the rest of the day carefully cleaning both myself and my console with a gallon of disinfectant.