YOU’VE all ruined April Fool’s Day. I hope you’re proud of yourself.

Either that, or I have simply grown up. To be honest, the chances of that happening are remote. I have the sense of humour of a seven-year-old. I know this, because my seven-year-old is the funniest person I know. And she laughs at all of my jokes.

April Fool’s Day used to be great. Newspapers would carefully select a story which would not be too prominently placed within the paper and, for about a minute, it would seem legitimate. Then, you’d realise the joke, have a chuckle, and move on to the TV page. Easy.

In the 1990s, my brother and I were taken in by a Mars Bar advert in the Daily Mail for an “emperor-size” bar which, for one day only, was available for the same price as a standard bar.

My brother, who was five years older than me (and still is), and I, rushed to our nearest corner shop in order to purchase this gigantic piece of confectionery. Our mam rang the shop to let them know, and everyone laughed when we burst in clutching the newspaper.

I was crestfallen and have never really got over the whole affair, to be honest, but fair play to Mars for the joke. It was believable for a few seconds, and only a complete idiot could be totally reeled in by it.

That’s the test of a good April Fool. This week, I saw few good examples and many more rubbish ones.

Gregg’s got a black mark for their ‘sausageless sausage roll’ idea. Nobody was taken in. I hope. Similarly, the bogus plot by Middlesbrough Council to repaint the Transporter Bridge pink fell on deaf ears.

Marmite, referenced in this column recently, got in on the act, advertising a new range of clear Marmite. Tesco unveiled new aisles made of trampolines. Santander launched a ‘cycle-thru’ branch. Sony PlayStation announced an underwater controller promising an ‘immersive’ experience.

All of them, every single one of them, neither raised a smile nor were believable, not even for a couple of seconds.

Some of them - the American set, I’d like to call them – broke the 12pm rule to deliver their jokes in the middle of the afternoon. Ha! Joke’s on you! I don’t care about time zones.

There were a couple of decent ones. The Daily Mirror wrote an entirely believable tale about our votes for future elections being estimated by algorithms using Facebook and Twitter. I wouldn’t put anything past our nation’s decision-makers, and it raised a titter. Well done.

Royal Albert Hall tweeted a picture of a letter they sent to the Beatles in 1967 to protest at the use of the famous venue in A Day in the Life. Funny, slightly believable, a success.

I didn’t play any pranks this year. I couldn’t think of any funny enough, and, to be honest, I won’t ever be able to top my finest one.

I wrote a bogus press release in 2005 that Bob Carolgees had signed up to present a Big Brother-style show where 12 heroin addicts would live in a house together for a month, called Cold Turkey.

I sent it to a fellow reporter and thought nothing more of it until another colleague piped up: “What about Spit the Dog, though?” when I realised it was going through the system and stood a decent chance of getting in the paper.

I’m still waiting for that show to be made.