You may have avoided being given a black bin bag and 10 minutes to clear your desk.

But that does not guarantee an escape from the spectre of the credit crunch at work.

According to recent research from the Institute of Directors, almost four in five British businesses are cutting back on everything from hiring new staff to paying for an office Christmas party.

So for the benefit of those Bristol office workers who might miss out on the annual festive delights of indulging in unidentifiable food, undrinkable wine and unmentionable behaviour, before joining in the traditional scenes of neo-Hogarthian excess in the Centre, this column has created a guide to holding a Credit Crunch Office Christmas Party, in the comfort of your own home.

FESTIVE FOOD: Go to the fridge. Remove anything lurking that could be edible. You know the sort of stuff – a pizza just past its sell-by date; the remains of last night's chicken tikka massala; a half-eaten slab of cheese wrapped in cling-film; a jar of pickled onions that has been there since last Christmas...

Put them all on a baking tray in the oven, apart from the cheese. Halve the recommended cooking time, and roughly double the heat, because cooking for an office Christmas party is a time-consuming business. Amble off to do something else, and return to the kitchen only when you hear the smoke alarm shrilling.

Survey the charred fare, and congratulate yourself that no one should get food poisoning. Then cover everything with grated cheese, and place under the grill until ready. Ta dah! Your Credit Crunch Office Christmas Party buffet is cooked to perfection.

Readers with sensitive taste buds may observe this festive fare tastes rather vile. But not to worry, because this can be cured by some...

FESTIVE DRINK: Open up the fridge again, and assemble anything in a bottle. This might include the unopened Liebfraumilch from those dinner party guests you never invited back, or a half-drunk bottle of something fizzy and orange of the sort that can usually be found in the Savill family fridge (after being bought for the small Savills by nice daddy, and confiscated by mean mummy on the grounds that Child A and Child B are hyper enough already).

Mix together, and add anything else suitable that you can find in the kitchen – some tap water, maybe, or perhaps a dash of chilli sauce, or some ketchup. Voila! You have created your very own Credit Crunch Office Christmas Party cocktail!

Tastes vile? Not to worry, because by the second glass your taste buds will no longer be functioning, thereby allowing you to enjoy your Credit Crunch Office Christmas Party buffet. Besides, you'll need some Dutch courage for when you encounter that other familiar feature of office parties, known as...

THE HAND: Go to the kitchen sink and grab a rubber glove. Then stuff into it anything handy, like some kitchen roll or a couple of dish cloths. Attach some strips of sticky tape to the fingers.

Congratulations! You have created The Hand, ready to be casually attached first to the back of your chair, and then draped across your shoulder as the evening wears on, in time-honoured office party fashion.

For a realistic touch (pun not intended) you might want to take The Hand with when you and your friends enact the journey home in...

THE TAXI: No office Christmas party would be complete without a cab ride – accompanied by The Hand.

To be truly authentic, you should first make your guests go outside and stand in a slowly shuffling line until they start to threaten each other – thereby recreating the ambience of a Bristol taxi queue.

Then try to fit three people on to a two-seater sofa, accompanied by The Hand. Don't forget that when in taxis, The Hand not only drapes itself over shoulders, but also has a tendency to position itself on top of knees.

You might also want to come out with some festive taxi passenger phrases, such as: "Why are you taking me from Clifton to Bishopston via the M32?"

While this journey might not be particularly pleasant, it will be one of the excuses you can use the following morning when you awake with...

THE HANGOVER: Except, the great thing about office Christmas parties (especially virtual ones like this) is that you need not admit to having a hangover.

Instead, you can insist your thundering headache and queasy stomach are not the result of overindulgence, but that you are the victim of dodgy alcohol and some sort of food poisoning, compounded by a taxi journey reminiscent of a bobsleigh ride.

Well, at least that's the excuse I always try to get away with.