IT would be invidious of me to comment on the merits of the recent plethora of surveys as to whether men or women make the more convincing fibbers.

But I was brought up short to read that researchers, those genius-like graduates of the University of the Obvious, had come up with the theory that children have learnt the skill to lie convincingly almost as soon as they compete for rusks in the nursery, and the more mendacious rise to be the most successful in business, commercial and social life thereafter.

Before you despair about what values really underlie the society they are being prepared for, consider the climate change in which not telling the truth far outweighs veracity and openness – indeed, obfuscation is pursued with vigour.

For example, when it comes to the nation’s financial health, the old government didn’t tell it and the new one won’t – well, not yet, anyway. All to prevent truth breaking out and rocking further the already shaky economy. No surprise, then, the sort of ‘schoolboy’ jokes left behind by the spendthrift departed, such as ‘Sorry, Chancellor, there’s no money left’, which provokes financial markets to hover perilously on a knife-edge.

Perversely, despite all the shenanigans and seedy crookery that characterised the demise of the last UK parliament, one word that couldn’t be uttered by dishonourable members in their chamber was: ‘liar’. At the other end of the scale, the media, in particular the ‘red top’ press, indulge in gross overstatement of issues with impunity. We have only to recall how a grubby fragment of coconut shell became ‘evidence’ of mass infanticide in Grouville.

There’s nothing wrong with inventiveness. After all, we enjoy fiction, be it in novels, movies and TV soaps, but it is a question of when the make-believe ends and reality begins. Advertising is to a greater or lesser degree a trade in falsehood. Fortunately, it is subject to some degree of regulation, but it is an Olympic skill to compete successfully against outrageous claims, spurious endorsements and the power of the airbrush.

After all, isn’t a good tale always worth enhancing – even just a little bit? Of course, there are pathological liars who couldn’t relate the truth if it was spelt out to them, but if we’re really honest, we’ve probably all relied on ‘porkies’ in our daily lives to drag us up and through the situations we encounter either of our own making or by accident. And it’s not all delusion and fantasy. Put four honest people in a room and show them the same events and you can expect four different versions depending on their own experiences.

Some would say the greater the intelligence, the more developed the ability to use imagination and face down the truth. So, do we actually know when we’re fibbing? The instinctive response is naturally: ‘Of course we do.’

But it might be less clear cut than at first it seems. There’s a Walter Mitty in all of us. We lie to improve status. We lie to distance ourselves from our own scary experiences. We lie to because we can’t face up to our own failures. While we may lie successfully about our inner feelings, it’s more difficult to lie convincingly about events, as other sources may catch us out.

You only have to read some of the hilarious claims published by insurance companies to realise how inventive we can be when attempting to cover our tracks and deflect accountability. However, my favourite bête noir remains the Oscar-winning performances of the graduates from the academy of the ‘no wrongdoing’.

So back to the gender stakes if – and I repeat, if – you accept that men tell more lies than women (the figure I saw was 1,092 a year average for males against 728 for females, or roughly three per day – how do they get these numbers?), the perceived wisdom would also have us believe that those which fall from the lips of the fairer sex are more effective, but prick the conscience more deeply. There are those who would even contend that lying is an essential ingredient in maintaining a healthy relationship between partners, though presumably we’re only talking about the ‘white’ variety. Outside marriage – or other similar ‘protected’ liaisons, all bets are off.

Lying in a court of law, to the tax man – even your employer, carries far less peer sanction – unless, of course, you’re caught. It can also feature in a whole raft of social one-upmanship ‘games’. A negative response to ‘Does my whatever look big in this?’ could actually expose the naïve inquirer to ridicule, which might be to your advantage. But it’s high risk and could lead to summary and terminal damage to a lifetime friendship.

Of course we bend the truth. Life is full of compromises. Mercifully, most of us respect a well-defined line of trust which deals out sanctions to those who transgress. Without this power of judgment over deeds and words, we’d be placed in the depressing position of not being able to believe anything. It’s the stuff of dictatorships or other environments driven by fear, where hope is lost and is replaced by desperation. Yet we aren’t totally immune.

How often have you heard the excuse for not getting involved in the democratic process laid at the door of ‘You can’t believe a word they say’? Anyone who’s feasted on a diet of political manifestos and promises can’t dismiss that out of hand. But at least we have the opportunity to subject the current hustings to the Pinocchio test. Choose the right candidate and you’ll be guaranteed change, efficiency, accountability and involvement. – Honest!