THIS is not a particularly good day for being gullible. Every conversation is a minefield for those given to trusting in the face of all evidence pointing to a prank.

The briefest encounter has the potential to damage – from grazed feelings to a brutal maiming of self-confidence.

The gullible can take a joke, but only because they have learned to, the hard way.

Laughing at themselves cushions the ego battering of others’ hilarity, which is, in turn, more painful than the floor that collided with their coccyx when a wag whipped their chair away.

So, on April Fool’s Day, the gullibles’ senses are sharply honed – ready to sniff out a con and avert an embarrassing situation at 50 paces.

They stand poised for action, should a prankster approach them at the bus stop with a cheerful: “You’ve got a smudge on the end of your nose!”

And, if anyone suggests they should admire a nesting mistle thrush through a pair of binoculars, they will inspect the eye-pieces carefully for signs of indelible ink.

For this one day only, the gullible will not believe the headlines in their daily newspaper until they have carefully researched the provenance of each one.

They will under no circumstances respond to an email from their boss or a colleague confessing undying passion for their coltish legs or eyes like pools of melting chocolate, in case it turns out not to be true.

Any tall tales shared around the photocopier will be vigorously judged before formulating a response, usually with an ambiguous pre-prepared phrase that dodges the subject altogether.

The truly prepared will have rehearsed a range of these sentences the night before and practised a non-reacting facial expression in the mirror.

Botox will have been considered in order to delay the onset of believing crinkles around the eyes, but dismissed in case the practice of injecting botulism into your nerves turns out to be a plastic surgeons’ in-joke.