SARAH VINE: Pardon my French but why, if women do all the work at Christmas, is Santa a sodding bloke?

With the possible exception of my friend Sebastian, who approaches the entire festive season with meticulous planning that would put some of history's greatest strategic minds to shame, Christmas is very much a woman's job.

Buying presents, buying trees, decorating, buying food, cleaning the house, making extra beds, taking care of the kids, grandma arguing, gifting teachers, soaking the turkey in a bucket with what Nigella says, and remembering to take care of the children to look after the inevitable vegan, checking the council's website for revised waste collections – in the vast majority of families these tasks (and many more) fall to the lady of the house.

Guys tend to focus more on the drinking aspects of the holidays. As a friend recently said to me about her dear husband, “He's basically p***** between now and New Year's.”

As for planning, I always remember my ex-husband, usually sometime around tea time on December 24, vaguely inquiring about what 'we' had bought for the kids.

I often wonder what would have happened if I had simply answered, “I don't know – I thought you were taking care of all that?”

(Actually, I know exactly what would have happened: The kids would have been given hastily wrapped copies of the book he read that week, which doesn't sound so bad unless you happen to be a three-year-old who finds part two of Robert Caro's epic four-part biography of Lyndon B. Johnson in your stocking on Christmas morning, all 300 pages of the damn thing.)

But I digress. No doubt the shops today will be full of bewildered men scouring the shelves for the remnants of the last minute festive rush, vaguely aware in the back of their male minds that perhaps that slightly dodgy looking jar of homemade chutney they picked up on office The Christmas charity sale may not quite light up their loved one's face in the intended way on Christmas morning.

For those gentlemen on the fence about this, remember: items purchased at gas stations don't count, nor do food or drinks – and keep in mind that you're buying for your partner, not the charming young salespeople . lady behind the counter, no matter how convincing she is.

Also, where possible, try to avoid anything that has the words “anti-aging” on it, even if it's a special half-price offer.

And whatever you do, don't confuse your wife with your mistress. One of the most unsatisfactory Christmases I remember was the year my father gave my mother a decidedly spicy item that was very clearly intended for someone else. That was an icy one, let me tell you. Of course I'm joking (or am I?). Anyway, I have a question. If it's not too impertinent to ask, why is the Christmas mascot, the magical figure revered by children worldwide, the one who trails through the night sky and cheers everyone up, a loser?

What did Santa ever do to get that gig? Really, why is he allowed to wander around with all his ho-ho-hos, taking in all the attention and glory as if this magnificent Christmas largesse was somehow his doing?

Isn't it time we get rid of the old fool and give the credit to the person who really deserves it: Santa Claus? Of course, some cultures include a woman in their festive celebrations.

Buying presents, buying trees, decorating, buying food, cleaning the house, making extra beds, taking care of the kids, grandma fussing, gifting teachers, soaking the turkey in a bucket with what Nigella (photo) says – in At the vast In the majority of families, these tasks are the responsibility of the woman of the house

In Italy, where I spent my childhood, we have a character called La Befana, who visits children on the eve of Epiphany to reward the good with presents or punish the naughty with a lump of coal – just like Santa Claus. We even leave her a small glass and a plate of cookies. But that's where the similarities end. For instead of being celebrated as a benevolent bringer of joy, La Befana is a witch. That's right, a real witch, with a hooked nose, warts, rotten teeth and obligatory cackle – and a figure to be feared and reviled.

And unlike Santa Claus, who gets to wear a glamorous fur trim and ride through the night sky in a chariot pulled by rambunctious reindeer, La Befana dresses in rags and rides a rickety old broomstick. She uses it, like a good housekeeper, to sweep the floor before she leaves. Of course she does! It's a woman's lot, you see: all the work, none of the glamor – or credit.

But don't worry ladies, the end is in sight. One more night of sleep and then another year will be over. Until then, you can continue to take the tablets as usual. Oh, and a very Merry Christmas to you all!

Is there any room left for a mince pie Gwynnie?

Forget Christmas jumpers and tinsel – on Christmas Day you can wear something really chic… a bikini.

Witness Victoria Beckham, who is on vacation in the Bahamas after another tiring year of being fabulous, and Gwyneth Paltrow, who is poolside in Mexico with her husband and two kids.

Honestly to the woman, she looks pretty amazing in that tiny string bikini.

Although I'm not sure there's a whole lot of room for that extra mince pie…

Is there any room left for a mince pie, Gwynnie?

Gwyneth Paltrow wears a bikini at a pool in Mexico with her husband and two children.

Dirty truth about posh people

Actor Dominic West, who plays Charles in The Crown, almost betrayed his common origins when he gobbled down a plate of asparagus with a knife and fork in one scene.

Really chic people of course only eat asparagus with their fingers and turn the tips around their plate like a piece of bread in the butter-lemon sauce.

I can't remember who first taught me this – probably the same person who pointed out to me that the way to determine whether a person comes from money is the state of his kitchen. Really chic people have chaotic kitchens where nothing fits, because everything has been passed down from generation to generation.

They are also quite grubby, as they are used to servants and have never learned to wash dishes properly. Oh, and they can't cook for similar reasons. That's why when I'm invited somewhere really big, I always have a small snack in my purse and a pack of disinfectant wipes.

Actor Dominic West, who plays Charles in The Crown, almost betrayed his common origins when he used a knife and fork to devour a plate of asparagus in one scene.

There are many people doing great things for charity. But one very astonishing young man is 26-year-old Russell Cook from Worthing in West Sussex, who goes by the name 'Hardest Geezer' on X/formerly known as Twitter.

There couldn't be a more accurate description, because since April Cook has been running the length of Africa – around 6,000 miles – in aid of The Running Charity, which helps people change their lives through sport.

Along the way he will cross 16 borders and cross cities, rainforests and the Sahara desert. His longest daily run to date is 110km – and he even ran afoul of a gang of armed robbers in Angola. So far he has raised more than £100,000, but he hopes to reach the £1 million mark. If anyone deserves a Christmas bonus, I'd say it's him.

I understand that etiquette dictates that King Charles should confer a knighthood on the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, during his New Year's honours, but honestly, why?

His coronation sermon was excruciating, but perhaps more importantly, the man always seemed far more interested in politics than in God. I'm sure he's a very nice man, but as someone who has presided over an unprecedented decline in church attendance, does he really deserve such an honor?

Having little interest in sports, I didn't mind anyway when Lionesses goalkeeper Mary Earps won BBC Sports Personality of the Year.

However, I think it's a bit of an exaggeration for ex-footballer Joey Barton to then accuse her of being a 'big bag of bastards'.

First of all, she clearly isn't; and second, it reminds me of the time Kanye West came on stage and insulted Taylor Swift after she won Best Female Video at the VMAs in 2009. Where is Taylor now? And where is Kanye? There's a lesson there somewhere…