The Language of Presents

There's always someone you dislike who you are duty bound to buy a present for at this time of year. In my case it's the sister in law, the difficulty I have with this is that you can't be too offensive and there really needs to be a sort of present equivalent of the Victorian's language of flowers - you know the sort of thing - lavender scented bath cubes means "I'm entirely indifferent to your existence" or a Nigella Lawson cookery book means "Don't invite me round for Sunday Lunch until you've learned how to make gravy" and so on.
So I duly consulted my well-thumbed copy of Old Squeaky's Almanac only to discover that there was no useful entry on the subject - although I did linger for a while over the sections on Inflicting Plagues of Boils and Practical Curses for the Busy Vampire. In desperation I turned to Mister Squeaky who helpfully suggested "get her something smelly" ... I do so hope she appreciates an elderly boil in the bag kipper...