WOULD I lie to you? No, I wouldn’t according to a new report by the scientific journal Brain and Cognition, which doesn’t mention me specifically but by age category.

Studies suggest that those over 60 find it harder to lie. The reason, they cite, is memory, the fear of being found out, echoing Sir Walter Scott’s line “Oh what a tangled web we weave/when first we practise to deceive.”

Psychologists have also argued that along with age comes seriousness, and a reality check. Younger extroverts are more likely to lie. The older, the depressed, are too much in check with reality to want to fabricate.

But these reports shouldn’t be taken to read that society is sliding away from mendacity. Top-level lying is on the increase. After the death of Saudi journalist Jamal Khashoggi, Saudi Prince Mohammed bin Salman swore that the journalist had left the Turkish consulate building. More lies swirled around us like sand in a desert storm.

This week President Trump said he had “No reason to believe MBS was lying”, clearly lying because the CIA report on his desk revealed that the Saudi Prince had personally ordered the killing of the journo.

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Sadly, lying doesn’t seem to do practitioners any harm at all. Unlike Pinocchio, the noses of those who tell lies don’t grow exponentially. Yes, it’s a fact Trump’s lying has been investigated every day since inauguration by the likes of Washington bureau chief for the Toronto Star Daniel Dale. (More than 5,000 lies in just over 600 days, up to September.) Dale points out there is little Trump hasn’t lied about: “Democrats will give illegal immigrants free cars.” “Democrats will abolish America’s borders.” “Democrats will soon order the death of every white person in America who earns more than $100k.” (Okay, I lied about the last one, but Trump’s lies are like tsunamis. Even though we know they’re coming there is nothing we can do to stop them.)

Many Trump voters actually say they like his lying because it bothers “elites”, like the Toronto Star journalist, and the Democrats.

Being found out doesn’t seem to halt the persistent offender. Yelling “liar, liar, pants on fire” doesn’t mean underwear suddenly becomes combustible. Back in the early Sixties, Cabinet Minister John Profumo wasn’t sacked because he lied to the public, but the House. Yes, Watergate ended Nixon but that was because the crime was actually state sponsored burglary.

Take Boris Johnson. (Please). Having been fired from The Times for fabricating two stories he then landed a top Euro correspondent job with The Telegraph. After becoming Shadow Arts Secretary he was fired for dishonesty, later to become Foreign Secretary. And who can forget the Boris Bus and its £350m a week claim which drove us in the direction of constitutional crisis – and him towards the hot seat?

The sad truth is if we’re told the same lie many times we believe it may be true. In Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty Four, when Winston is being interrogated he is asked to consider two and two may not be four. “Sometimes they are three. Sometimes they are five.”

What’s even sadder is we’re becoming deranged with politicians lying, or “paltering” as the strategy is known, where a politician doesn’t answer a question directly, but replies with a series of evasive truths. (Try watching Cathy Newman’s Channel 4 interview with Justice Minister Lucy Frazer on Tuesday where the presenter asks if the DUP should pay back the £1bn love fee, having stabbed Theresa May in the back. Frazer ignores the question and replies, repeatedly: “The Prime Minister has worked incredibly hard to ensure there is no hard border in Northern Ireland.” Blah, blah.

Of course, not all lies are bad. Each of us lies about 'once or twice a day'. About little things, sometimes for altruistic reasons. We use Santa as a potential reward device. (Although Miracle on 42nd St is a great movie, it doesn’t prove he is real.)

One psychologist even suggests, “Our social lives would collapse under the weight of honesty.” Kenneth Williams once regaled dinner guests about how film star David Niven had enjoyed a close up with his landlady on the landing upstairs. And when Williams' veracity was challenged he admitted the gentleman to be an ordinary neighbour: Niven’s name had been inserted to add piquancy. And Williams got away with it. But the ubiquity of lying in the modern world is frightening.

There is little comfort in learning the older lie less. Dishonesty, for example, pervades our romantic relationships when we’re young. It’s the fact lying has become a career strategy. It’s the fact we’ve mostly come to accept it in all its forms.

Ah, you’ll say. Do you never lie? No, not really. Perhaps a white lie? “Yes, I’m making good headway with the Kevin Bridges' feature.” (Which really means the notion has just about entered my head.)

But big lies. No. I’ve realised the headaches they can cause for everyone. Although I could be lying about not lying.

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