It is 7 a.m. on a Monday morning, and I am sat at my kitchen table in my pyjamas, grumpily. I am on a conference call with approximately five strangers, and we are laughing together. Except we are not all laughing. I am exhaling worriedly, allowing my long breaths to make a hawwwwww sound.

I hate this so much.

I have committed to signing up to a Telephone Laughter Club in the U.K. for a month. It is run by a lovely woman named Lotte, who signs off her emails with "a day without laughter is a day wasted". I sign off my emails with my Twitter handle. The club runs from 7 a.m. to 7:10 a.m. Monday to Friday (or 8 a.m. to 8:10 a.m. on Bank Holidays). It costs 5 pounds a month to join, which pays for the freephone number you have to call.

This weekend, Manchester will host the 3rd annual U.K. National Laughter Festival. Madan Kataria will be the keynote speaker. Kataria (colloquially known as the Guru of Giggling) is the creator of Laughter Yoga. Created in 1995, the practise is a combination of yogic breathing (pranayama), and voluntary laughter. Purely laughter though — no jokes, humour, or comedy. The idea is that your brain doesn't register the difference between fake and real laughter, and it produces the same endorphins regardless, resulting in enhanced well-being. Kataria claims that laughter "helps you to unwind the negative effects of stress, and also boosts your immune system".

There are more than 6,000 Laughter Clubs, in over 60 countries, and a quick search for 'Laughter Yoga London' brings up a group with almost 450 members. If you can't attend a physical Laughter Club, there are Skype Laughter Clubs. Similarly, there are Telephone Laughter Clubs in the U.S., Australia, and the U.K. And look, here we are.