YEARS ago, at a small party in someone's house, and fortified to the point of recklessness by several large Jack Daniels, I did what I would never otherwise have done, and told a joke.

I'd laughed when I heard it the previous day. Now I tried to remember its workings and the punchline.

I laboured my way to the end. The others smiled politely. One bloke laughed. I was glad that I hadn't mangled the joke beyond repair. Then I caught sight of a raised, sceptical eyebrow on the face of a good friend.

And it was then that I remembered that he had been the one who'd told me the joke in the first place.

Caught. No excuses.

The lesson? If you're going to pass off a joke as your own, screen your audience first.

I thought of it again yesterday when Ask Jeeves published a list of things people do to seem more clever in front of friends, work colleagues or potential partners. One-fifth of us have been guilty of this: 41% of Londoners have done it; curiously, only 14% of Scots admit to it. And men are, as is so often the case, worse than women.

Methods range from "talking loudly about politics in front of others" (that's all 129 MSPs accounted for, then) to reading Jane Eyre rather than Dan Brown on the beach. Many of us have affected a preference for Beethoven over Beyonce, or discussed operas we have never seen.

"We were surprised," says the man at Ask Jeeves, "by just how many people think they should go to such lengths in order to impress someone else.

"They obviously think they'll make a better impression if they pretend to like Beethoven rather than Beyonce or read The Spectator rather than Loaded."

With a mounting awareness of my innate shallowness, I tick off items on Ask Jeeves' list. 1 Repeating someone else's joke as your own (check). 2 Visit an art gallery (check). 3 Read a serious magazine on public transport (check). 4 Pretended to know about wine (check).

Just about the only thing I haven't done is share someone else's cultured Facebook posts.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some Plato to read, an online Glyndebourne production of Verdi's Falstaff to enjoy, and some pre-recorded Alain de Botton to watch at home on BBC4, over a glass of expensive Pinot Noir. Just don't expect me to tell you about it next time we meet.

on ...