Do: Embrace wholeheartedly the general work malaise pervading the office on the morning before this afternoon's Christmas do.
Don't: Admit that you'd be embracing wholeheartedly your own personal work malaise anyway, due to a raging hangover of the black soup variety.

Do: Enjoy partaking in a festive yet sedate glass or two of red wine over the meal.
Don't: Focus on the fact that the red wine is free, while the drinks in the bar afterwards won't be, and make it your mission to guzzle an entire bottle in under half an hour. And then another. Ad infinitum.

Do: Join in with the inanity hilarity of the organised games, like a positive team player.
Don't: Loudly take the piss out of the organised games and declare your boredom to the world. Or get so drunk that you actually find yourself enjoying the organised games and partake in them with inebriated enthusiasm that in no way disguises the fact that you are failing miserably at tasks that a foetus would have no trouble completing, all of which is punctuated by raucous squeals of laughter, which echo deafeningly around Manchester.

Do: Enjoy a quiet chuckle at the fact that your line manager is really rather pissed.
Don't: Forget that 'really rather pissed' does not mean 'deaf, dumb and blind' and shriek: "Ha-ha, she's wankered, the daft moo! Oh, and don't you think she looks like Amy Winehouse on a bad hair day?" whilst pointing and laughing in a screechingly obvious manner.

Do: Exchange a few sage words with big boss about the year's progress and the exciting plans for the division in 2008.

Don't: Repeat over and over in your head: "You rejected my voluntary severance application. Bitch." And quietly procure a sharp knife from the dinner table.

Do: Avoid the cameras.
Don't: Get your tits out for the lads.

Do: Leave at a sensible hour in order to get into work bright, breezy and completely unruffled tomorrow morning.
Don't: Throw up on a sleeping student on the night bus.

God, I'm doomed...