WERE you full of pranks and giggly mirth to mark April Fool's Day yesterday? Did you give somebody the number of Chester Zoo and indicate that a Mr C Lion wanted a call?

No, I thought not. This sort of thing is only perpetuated these days in school playgrounds and newspaper/broadcasting offices.

No doubt yesterday's Sunday supplements contained lots of stories which stretched the bounds of credibility - Dr Paisley and Mr Adams getting it together in Belfast, for instance.

But surely the golden days are over for spoof news in an age when many people are disinclined to believe anything they read anyway.

If you go on the internet thingy you can find lists of some of the greatest April 1 hoaxes of all time.

Sadly, they do not seem to include the one which a couple of colleagues and myself devised when Bolton Wanderers were still playing in Manchester Road.

The Bolton Evening News (as it was then) published a detailed account of the plans (complete with artist's impression) aimed at transforming the historic Burnden ground into a theme park called "Natlands" (after our very own Nat Lofthouse).

According to this work of fiction, cars on an extensive overhead ride system would be boot-shaped and there would be various other attractions, including a machine which re-created the sensation of heading a wet case ball.

I seem to remember that there was no obvious reaction from the Bolton public because most citizens seem to have a sophisticated understanding of matters which are, to quote my late father, "too daft to laugh at".

It was gratifying, however, when we learned that the councillor in charge of planning matters had vowed to fight the Natlands plans all the way.

Elsewhere in the world readers and viewers have been asked to believe over the years in topics such as viagra for hamsters, diamond-encrusted grenades for Russian gangsters, chewy vodka bars, special socks to help people lose weight and the invention of telly "smellovision" - a system for pumping aromas into living rooms.

All good fun, but I suspect many older readers of this column are waiting for a reference to spaghetti, so here it is.

Back in 1957 the nation was fooled and then amused by an item on the BBC's Panorama programme which claimed spaghetti was growing on trees in Switzerland.

Since then the only hoax which has truly stood out from the rest was the Guardian's seven-page supplement in 1977 dedicated to the 10th anniversary of San Serriffe - supposedly a small republic in the Indian Ocean with two main islands, Upper Caisse and Lower Caisse.

Readers familiar with typeface terminology no doubt smelled a rat when they learned that the capital was Bodini and the leader was General Pica.

I see from t'internet that French children sometimes tape a picture of a fish on schoolmates' backs and cry "Poisson d'Avril" (April Fish) when the prank is discovered.

That sounds as much fun as learning that your shoelaces are not really undone.