THOSE hilarious colleagues whose most fervent desire is to have their notoriety as jokers and pranksters given life will be a little bit lost tomorrow. Making fools of family and friends today just won't be half as rewarding as picking on people at work would have been tomorrow.

The deeply ridiculous aspiration to be taken seriously as a Fun Guy or Joker Gal is alive and well and lingering looking for recognition, attention and occasionally even applause in most workplaces, to the merriment of many but to the bewilderment of po-faced people like me.

Speciality days like 1 April allow us to stray just a little from the path of normal behaviour in the guise of some socially acceptable tale-telling as we venture into the peepshow for jokers that is April's Fools Day.

But although I am as foolish as the next employee, I never could fathom the adolescent tendencies of those who cherish the opportunity to make people laugh/blush /look foolish at work.

While the laugh bit is a great boost to any group . . . and when brought about by that elusive algorithm called humour, better still . . . but the rest seems more about either disguised cruelty or one-upmanship in the workplace, where social relations are more constrained and mannered and sensitivities comparatively heightened. It's a competitive place, not an amusement park.

Falling this year on a sombre Sunday, the office will, thankfully, be its usual sedate self tomorrow and nobody need worry if the coffee machine really is broken, if the fire alarm's for real or if that suggestive voice message really is from a hotshot recruitment firm who at last have indulged your urge to be headhunted.

There is something not quite right about people who mix practical jokery with the serious stuff of work . . . it's as though they just don't get the deep down misery of it all, and attempting to bring levity to the rubber plant and cheap print environment is light years away from where most of us are at; it doesn't actually reinforce or enhance the illusion that working is fun, but reasserts, contrarily, the depressing fact that it's mostly an activity awash with self-discipline and denial. The contrast is blinding.

Court jesters have a function, though, and those of us in denial as to their value should sneer with caution. A good case can be made that those who act the maggot at work are really playing a politically astute game of courting favour and encouraging trust, the mainstay of interpersonal relations both in and out of work, while at the same time, making strategic moves and gaining influence.

It's this type the rest of us need to watch; they play the fool, perhaps, and disarm us with their self-deprecating antics, but are sometimes the very ones who topple us from the little mound of minor responsibility we kid ourselves is power.

Maybe those who play the fools are really the clever ones, and those who play clever are the fools, but either way, most groups have their jester and most groups have a character who seems to act as a container for the foibles of the more serious-minded.

Some people say those who play the fool at work are a happier bunch who don't take themselves too seriously.

They are first to poke fun at themselves, decry their own inadequacies, shine the spotlight on their psychic carbuncles and generally wrongfoot the competition by relieving us of any leverage against them. How can you head into battle with an entertainer as your opposition? You may find yourself putting down your arms, sitting back and enjoying the show instead.

A general sigh can be heard around the office as Mark is back from his annual holiday and everyone knows the days will once again be littered with tales of crazy antics abroad as he fits snugly back into his role as office clown. Look carefully though, and you'll note Mark making moves other than hilarious attempts to reproduce lapdance gyrations round the water cooler for the fascinated finance team.

His moving up the corporate ladder goes uncontested because of his general demeanour as we've all bought into the fantasy that his identified role is the one he's sticking to. Until he's the MD.

Many people like Mark are really confusing us with role ambiguity and by making us laugh, we forget the lingering doubts we have about their proficiency. Expressing reservations about someone's behaviour when everyone else appears amused is not something most of us are comfortable with. Our shortcomings then are used by the tricksters, who challenge those of us not playing for laughs while they are first to dance their way to the boardroom, and last to laugh.