Let me be clear – I am not a lying charlatan who cons old ladies out of their pension money, but I have been known to make the truth more palatable. For example, when my sister recently came round in a gingham monstrosity, I said, “What a gorgeous dress!”

And last week, when a colleague walked in with a haircut that made him look like a military sadist, my response was, “Super-short back and sides look great on you!” Lies. All lies.

However, I’m not alone. According to a new study, the average person fibs around four times per day. I’m in great company – with all of you.

Knowing my tendency to smooth social interactions with flattery, my editor challenged me to 24 hours of “radical honesty”, a movement founded by US psychotherapist Brad Blanton.

Living by the radical honesty manifesto involves “expressing every underlying thought and emotion”. Stream-of-conscious truthfulness is apparently the secret to good psychological health. And, I suspect, to losing friends and alienating people.

I make my mid-morning cup of tea and head over for a quick chat with the cool geek of the office. You know the type: she has tastes so underground that you find yourself nodding sagely while she speaks, then Googling everything she’s referenced as soon as you get back to your desk.

But then every so often, she throws in a mainstream mention that makes no sense. Like today. She starts talking about Star Wars, and I say the first thing that comes to mind. “I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to stop you right there. I’m just so bored.”

She halts, eyes widening in surprise. There’s an awkward pause. “Only a true friend would say that,” she replies, cracking a small smile.

Amazingly, we keep chatting. She shows me a photo of her boyfriend when he was doing Movember; a skinny line of dark fluff is perched on his upper lip like an anaemic, suicidal caterpillar about to jump.

“He looks like an Eastern European arms dealer,” I say. Another strange pause. Thankfully, my teacup is empty and it’s time to go back to my seat.

Come lunchtime, I duck out to buy a present for a friend’s unborn mystery gender baby. I don’t have a lot of time and am frustrated trying to find baby clothes that aren’t pink with ballerinas or blue covered in trucks.

The salesgirl asks if she can help. I respond, “You have no unisex clothes except this grey-and-white striped jumpsuit, which will frankly make my friend’s child look like a prisoner.”

There’s a long, weird pause in which she opens and closes her mouth like a fish. I start laughing to difuse the tension. She doesn’t. I leave feeling like a social pariah.
Who does that?

Yes, I have been honest, but according to psychologist Catherine Boland (catherineboland.com), I’ve also been incredibly rude. “I can’t believe you told your colleague you were bored!” she laughs during our chat. “There’s an unwritten social rule that we listen to other people, even if we’re not that interested in what they’re saying.”

She adds that self-editing is crucial to functioning in the world. If you don’t do it, you can be socially shunned. Or asked to leave a baby shop in disgrace. “You gave the salesgirl unwarranted criticism,” says Boland. “Remember that all opinions are subjective, so your honesty may not be as valid or worthy as you think.”

My final act of radical truth happens that night at a bridal expo. An engaged friend is looking forward to her nuptials, so we head out for a night of champagne and table-decoration pomp. I’m really excited, right up until the point where my stomach is rumbling (there’s nothing to eat) and we’re told to take our seats.

What follows is hours of ill-prepared, mind-numbing speeches on cake and colour trends. Agony. Eventually, I lean over and say something that has the potential to make my friend really annoyed with me. “This is like sitting through a terrible Year 9 English oral presentation on the subject of overpriced frou-frou.”

She looks over at me. I expect a disappointed head shake … but she nods! And we go to the pub and eat giant bowls of chips.

While one out of three ain’t bad, I strongly doubt whether this version of me would be invited to any social engagements. Ever. I’m going to go back to the original, edited me.