Toby Manhire: 'Tis the season for some folly...

What to get those special people?

...and none, surely, are more deserving than the country’s leaders and a few other folk boasting high profiles.

Less than a fortnight to go and I know what you're thinking: what to get those special people for Christmas? Herewith, then, friends, your annual tipsheet of the ideal presents for our national leaders.

Top of the list is John Key. Or, rather, are John Key. A shopping nightmare: you have to get a gift for John the PM, John the party boss, John the private citizen, John the cat-putter-outerer - and worse still, you'll never outdo what the different Johns get each other.

But apart from the obligatory emoji-laden xms txt, you could stuff JK's stocking with a VHS copy of the popular Anthony Hopkins film The End of the Day, an elaborate hat-stand, a sharp intake of breath, 101 Jokes for Dads, a cusp, and most essentially The Dirty Politick, a ripsnorter of a Dickens novel which he's never read, in which an everyman hero called Key and his sidekick Baby George find themselves implicated in the malodorous dark-alley deeds of Ede, Slater, Carrick and Lusk and maligned by the dastardly plotting by a malefactor sugar tycoon called Kim, his Little Henchman and a Screaming Conspiracy Theorist. Happily - spoiler alert - thanks to the best daily telephone polling money can buy, Everyman Key triumphs, pulls out a box of crayons and enlivens the tired concrete with pictures of a new national flag.

For Baby George, a memorial roundabout in Helensville.

For Andrew Little, a suit jacket with chainmail lining at the back, a wind-up crap-cutter, an invisible horse and the Don Brash rarity Top Tips on Leading from the List.

For Judith Collins, a new Facebook login, a selfie stick, and lashings of export-grade chocolate milk. Be generous; she gives back double.

For Bill English, a surplus wrapped in a deficit, doused in milk and wrapped in an unintelligible spreadsheet. And an "I am Rawshark" T-shirt.

For Paula Bennett, the audiobook edition of the erotic novel John Key, Portrait of a Prime Minister, read in a range of accents by Jim Bolger.

An extra something to share for Bill, Paula and Nick Smith, who have dramatically slashed the housing problem in New Zealand (when measured proportionately to the number of ministers responsible for housing): the Auckland edition of Monopoly, in which the aim of the game is to build enough roads to clear the harbour bridge of traffic while flogging off state houses to op-shops.

For Jacinda Ardern and Grant Robertson, an audition as Gracinda for the new series of X Factor.

For Simon Bridges, a tea break until February, to be shared with all his fellow MPs.

For Shane Jones, Luxury Resorts of the South Pacific 2015 and a selection of Countdown Jamie Oliver range cookware.

For John Banks, a cold bowl of revenge.

For Peter Dunne, a smokable synthetic bowtie.

For Chris Finlayson, the complete works of Ian Fleming translated into classical Greek, several thousand webcams a [redacted] with five eyes, a box of peppermint Chit-Chats and an Oxford comma.

For Trevor Mallard, some sea monkeys: native New Zealand bird edition.

For David Cunliffe, an extended cut of the first leaders' debate in Campaign 2014.

For Karen Price, a one-day social media workshop with social media expert guru Tau Henare and his post-Parliament consultancy Tweet and Be Damned.

For Asenati-Lole Taylor, an internship at Tweet and Be Damned and a new gig co-presenting 3 Breakfast with Paul Henry.

For Paul Henry, Paul Henry.

For David Seymour, an extended mix by John Key's DJ son of his viral classic Hi!, and a new set of satin coat-tails festooned with cups of tea and the bright emblazoned words, "Hi, I'm the Parliamentary Under-Secretary to the Minister of Education and Parliamentary Under-Secretary to the Minister of Regulatory Reform, who the hell are you?"

For Jamie Whyte, an application form for the Whanau Ora programme.

For Metiria Turei and Russel Norman, four independent inquiries, three homeopaths a-curin', two Maui dolphins and a mollyhawk in a sustainably fertilised pear tree.

For Tim Groser, a charming bach delicately perched by the seafront.

For Colin Craig, an unpublishable defamatory joke.

For Brendan Horan, a warm front.

For Te Ururoa Flavell, a Kiwiana cushion for his seat at the table in Wellington.

For Murray McCully, a Kiwiana cushion for his seat at the table in New York.

For Iain Rennie, a hug.

For Aaron Gilmore, a mention in the NZ Herald.

For Tony Abbott, the romantic epic Vladimir's Shirtfront.

For Vladimir Putin, a 45 of Back in the USSR. (On the b-side, Twist and Shout.)

For Nicky Hager, a name change to something easier to pronounce, a lager, and a proactive text message from the Prime Minister.

For Cameron Slater, a visit from the Ghost of Christmas Past and a new password.

For Jason Ede, a plum diplomatic posting to Upper Mongolia East.

For Rawshark, a tub of whale oil. (As defined by Paul Henry's daughter Bella in the words that better than any others sum up the 2014 election campaign: "I don't know if it's the actual whale being killed for the whale oil or if it's just oil in the sea that whales are around. But, yeah, you know, don't kill whales. But then you know we need our oil, so it's kind of just like don't kill the whales, but if it's oil in the water, you know, scooch the whales over a little bit.") And a job at the GCSB.

For Ella Yelich-O'Connor, a pukeko on a gold leash, for Lydia Ko, a Tiger Woods biography.

For Winston Peters, a bottle of vintage Lochinver, a Shanghai penguin, The Benny Hill Joke Book, the rusted hull of the Arahura, a bottom line and a hashtag.

For Hone Harawira, lunch with Sue Bradford.

For Laila Harre, the complete Battlestar Galactica boxsets. Well, "boxsets" from the internet, if you know what I mean.

For Pam Corkery, a pair of diamond-encrusted boxing gloves, together with a small inflatable turd for sparring practice. (Not to be confused with the two new pipsqueak National MPs who used to be tobacco company lobbyists, aka the puffed-out little shits.)

For Kim Dotcom, a zip-up black top, a DVD of the contemporary New Zealand horror film The Moment of Truth, a puffed-up little giraffe, a memorial roundabout in Helensville, and a toy helicopter.

For Len Brown, a toy train tunnel, filled with cement.

For Steven Joyce, an Eminem album, a Christmas Day focus group in Huntly, a toy rowboat and a toy hydrofoiling catamaran.

For Gerry Brownlee, a toy aircraft carrier. With a secret gangplank just for him.