To tell the truth, I'd rather not say

"I'm being punished for telling the truth," whined 15-year-old Sarah Briggs, who was expelled after complaining to a local paper about educational standards in her school.

Three cheers for her headmistress Nicola Atkin who obviously takes very seriously her duty to teach her pupils how to be responsible members of society .

For while knowing the truth may set you free, speaking it will generally confine you to crutches, as well as ruining relationships and your ability to earn a living.

Is it always kinder to be honest? Did Quasimodo really like being called the Hunchback of Notre Dame? Did George Washington do anything for good neighbourly feeling when he confessed to chopping down the cherry tree? Was Hamlet any happier for knowing that his father hadn't passed away happily in his sleep? In comparison, a few small white lies and you get to be first Pope, infallible and generally all-round top dog. And a thrice denial didn't do St Peter any harm, did it?

I have worried in the past about my duplicity. My mother remains under the impression I've never paid more than pounds 15 for an item of clothing. My father thinks I passed that physics exam. As for my boyfriends - well, never mind that now...

All this was changed by an inspiring "Thought For the Day" by a vicar with a particularly sexy voice who made it clear how much better life could be if we were all honest. No more silly misunderstandings, no more lies and attendant fears of being found out. Like Richmal Crompton's William, I vowed to "cast aside deceit an' hypocrisy". Within a day I was unemployed, friendless and single.

My good resolution started as I walked into the office to see one of my workmates sporting a new pair of trousers. "Oooh, lovely," I said.

"Do you think they make me look fat?" she asked.

"Yes."

There was a tearful pause.

"To be honest, with those thighs I just wouldn't wear trousers," I added kindly. "But they do look a lot better than those navy ones you seem to wear all the time."

I was missed off the coffee rota and sobs were still emanating from the Ladies' at lunchtime. However, I didn't have time to deal with this as I was too busy counselling my old friend Angela over the phone. Angela goes out with a colleague of mine.

"Paul was in late last night," she happened to mention. "Was it busy in the office?"

"No," I replied truthfully.

"Oh," she said. "Do you know where he was?"

"He asked me out for a drink," I explained. "Then he got very drunk, said you didn't understand him and made an absolutely vile pass at me. But you'll be glad to hear that I told him I thought I could do a lot better than him, an arrogant git with personal hygiene problems... Angela? Angela? I thought you'd be pleased..."

It was about time to ring up the bank about my overdraft anyway. But Mr Arnold really didn't seem to understand that I'd spent the money he'd lent me not on a new carpet but on going out, getting drunk and buying several new dresses to cheer myself up.

"But, but, but," he kept repeating in a confused way. "Can't you just say you intend to do something worthwhile with the loan. We can't really authorise another one unless you do."

"Not a personal phone call, I hope?" said the boss, popping up behind me.

"'Fraid so," I confessed.

"How far have you got on that project?" he asked.

"To be honest, I've felt too hungover to do anything," I said. "And I don't think it's a great idea of yours anyway."

Later, my boyfriend took me for a drink. "You're bound to get another job soon," he said soothingly. "And to cheer you up, my mum's invited us for a lazy weekend at home."

"I can't think of anything less likely to cheer me up than your mother," I pointed out. Well, can't men sulk when a bit of logic is introduced?

It turned out to be the last straw - after a day of honesty, my life is in ruins and I'm with Nicola Atkin in stamping out any signs of openness and transparency. From now on, I'm back to normal duplicity, being kind, considerate and thinking of others before myself. Oh, yes, that reminds me, boys... size doesn't matter.