"I don't like custard," I said.

"You must be joking!" she said. "I thought everyone liked custard."

"No, you are mistaken," I said. "I, for example, do not like custard, and I am one of many."

"Oh?" she said. "Well, I like it."

"Do you?" I said.

"Oh yes," she said. "I like it as an accompaniment to many dishes. Apple crumble is nice with custard, as is cherry pie, Christmas pudding, oh, and cornflakes of course-"

"Cornflakes," I stated.

"Oh yes. You can't beat it. One of the best taste explosions in the world, in my humble opinion," she orated. "I thought everyone-"

"No. They don't," I explained. "Not everyone eats custard with their cornflakes. Look, are we talking about the same things here? You know, crisp golden flakes of corn, just a splash of ice-cold milk?"

"Yes, exactly," she said. "But not milk. Custard."

"So do you use cold custard, or do you wake up every morning and make up some fresh stuff?"

"No, look, I don't have custard with my cornflakes all the time, you know," she said. "Just occasionally. It's something of a treat."

"A treat?" I scoffed.

"Oh yes," she said. "It was my dad's idea."

And suddenly I understood. "I bet he said that it was something he used to do all the time when he was younger," I said.

"Oh yes," she said. "Those were almost his exact words, in fact."

"Really. But I bet he doesn't do it any more, does he?" I inquired. "I bet you've never actually seen him eat custard and cornflakes, have you?"

"Well, no," she confessed, "but that's because he says he lost his sweet tooth twenty years ago."

"Isn't your dad the type of chap who believes that twenty-two Mars bars a day keeps the doctor away?" I asked.

"Hmmm," she mused. "You're right. Hmmm..."

So my suspicions had been confirmed. She had been the subject of a Dad Practical Joke - always an harrowing experience.

I've had my fair share of these things - and not just from dads either. It seems to be as if I have a large tattoo upon my forehead with the words I AM GULLIBLE. People seem to be queuing up to play pranks on me, which would all be well and good if I had the imagination and the ability to think up really good revenge pranks.

It started by my father convincing me that our dog had bad breath. Yes, it was me who went to the vet and asked for a doggy toothbrush, some doggy toothpaste and some doggy breath spray. And after that, it seemed that everyone was out to get me.

I've been sent for long stands, short stands, three dimensional paper, striped ink, sachets of dehydrated water and so on. And I always go, because I am the most gullible man in the world.

So I was mightily relieved, I was, to hear about the custard incident. It made me happy to realise that it wasn't just me everyone was out to get. You'll have to excuse me now; my girlfriend wants me to go to Dundee for a tin of tartan paint.