EVERYWHERE I look, there are sheepish-looking dads wearing jumpers, cardigans, hats, ties and socks they wouldn’t really want to be seen dead in.

But they have no choice because these garments of highly dubious taste were Christmas gifts from wives and children. It’s an age-old part of Christmas.

Dads have to put up with rubbish presents – at least for the first few weeks until they can sneak them into the bottom of a drawer or back of a wardrobe.

There’s a young fella on our sports desk who recently announced he’d got married. There he was, at work on Boxing Day, looking slightly embarrassed in a thick woollie jumper with cute little reindeer leaping through the fabric. This is just the start of it for him.

To be fair, I got off relatively lightly this year, apart from my obligatory jazzy Dad socks from child number three. They weren’t too bad so I was wearing them when I got my hair cut the other day and the conversation naturally turned to what Santa brought.

“New ‘Dad socks’ for Christmas then?” said Nigel Dowson, friend, hairdresser, blogger, raconteur, and fully paid-up member of JADED (The Joint Association of Downtrodden, Exhausted Dads.) “Aye,” I nodded. “What did you end up with?”

“I got this from the missus!” he replied, whipping out one of those daft furry hats with ear flaps, and sticking it on his head.

In terms of keeping his bald pate warm in this arctic winter, it could be argued that it’s a very thoughtful present. In terms of a fashion statement, it’s a complete disaster.

Nigel went on to tell me how he’d worn his new hat on Boxing Day when he’d nipped out to Pets At Home in Darlington. He was looking after his daughter’s dog for a few days and wanted to buy it a basket to sleep in.

There he was, mooching round the store, when a tannoy message rang out: “Security alert. Security alert.

We have a man trying to sneak out of the store with a rabbit on his head.”

Nigel, who’s not the sharpest pair of scissors in the barber’s shop at times, was somewhat bemused. For a few seconds, he actually looked up and down the aisles for a man with a rabbit on his head before realising that customers were looking at him and laughing.

He then spotted a female checkout assistant in fits of giggles, having just made the tannoy announcement.

Before he could say anything, a security guard was accosting him, lifting up his hat flaps and shouting: “Hey, it’s one of those floppy-eared rabbits as well.”

Poor old Nigel was so flustered, all he managed to blurt out in the direction of the shop assistant was: “You’d have to wear one of these if you had a bald head like me!”

My question is this: Don’t you think us long-suffering dads have quite enough to put up with, having to walk around in Christmas presents we secretly dislike?

We shouldn’t have to endure being ridiculed in the middle of Pets At Home. It’s not clever and it’s not funny.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

KAREN and Matt Westcott, of Middlesbrough, and their two boys Joseph and Harvey were staying with friends Helen and Andy over New Year.

Harvey, six, was very excited as he explained to his dad what the sleeping arrangements were going to be.

“I’m sleeping in Lucy’s bed, Joseph’s sleeping in Adam’s bed, and Mammy’s going to be sleeping in Uncle Andy’s bed!”

JOE, aged seven, announced that he couldn’t decide whether to be a professional footballer for Barcelona or Real Madrid when he grows up, or a racing car driver.

“What do you want to be?” fouryear- old Harvey was asked.

“A fairy princess,” came the reply.

“DAD, stop trying to be so assertive all the time.” – our Jack, 17, when I asked to use the bathroom.