My flatmate when I lived in Bristol years ago used to work in a casino. At his Secret Santa the usual tat, choccies and wine did the rounds. When he opened his, it was a huge vibrating manhood extension, complete with an external battery pack, which, I kid you not, took 6 DD batteries (although to be frank, it was so big, it looked like it should be running on diesel).
To this day he has no clue who gave it to him.
Worryingly, another of our flatmates used to regularly fire this thing up (not erm…whilst connected to it, I hasten to add) and let it wander around the dinner table under it’s own power…he took particular delight in doing this when the original recipient had his girlfriend visiting.
The thing was terrifying – like something out of a Cronenberg movie – thankfully it later got dismantled one drunken evening (to see how it worked, you understand) and the electric motor saw sterling service powering an improvised disco ball at the following year’s New Year’s party.