My 2012 New Year's resolution was to get organised so that I could survive Christmas this time round. To that end, I have amassed the following: bolt cutters and pliers; chainsaw and crowbar; 1,465 assorted batteries; 362 screwdrivers; 17 variations of plugs and adapters; and a tankful of egg nog.

Since when were simple plastic dolls in so much peril? Why does everything need to be stapled, twist-tied, sellotaped and sewn into a fortified plastic coffin, then lodged inside an impregnable cardboard mausoleum?

Even astronauts aren't that well secured as they're being hurtled into orbit. And half of what parents lug home at Christmas gets thrown straight out.

I want to meet the sadists who come up with such packaging and staple them in a box so they know how unsuspecting troll dolls suffer. Better still, they should be made to spend Christmas morning at a house with 14 falsetto-pitched children and wrestle with their own plastic and cardboard fortresses. Then I'd like to see them traverse the minefield of a floor strewn with microscopic toy parts that require a degree in quantum physics to assemble. The "three and over" warning on the packaging should really refer to the number of mulled wines you should imbibe before undertaking such tasks.

There's no buzz in it, and it seems we're light years away from packaging sanity. As Albert Einstein said: "The difference between genius and stupidity is that genius has its limits."