This intrigued me for a number of reasons but not least as the website has been all over the papers of late. In a stroke of PR genius it faced controversy earlier this year after it cruelly axed 5,000 members because their waistlines had expanded over the festive period.

"Letting fatties roam the site is a direct threat to our business model and the very concept for which BeautifulPeople.com was founded," site founder Robert Hintze kindly explained. Nice.

Naturally his comments were met with global outrage but rather tellingly it also saw 48,000 new applications for coveted membership in the space of 24 hours. The site now has over 600,000 supposedly easy-on-the-eye members worldwide.

But arriving at the party's aptly image-conscious venue, Chinawhite, with my friend Scarlett, there actually seems to be a real lack of stunners. Instead a distinctly
average and scarily self-assured man shimmies up to sit next to us.

"Are you members?" he grins. "No, we're journalists," we reply.

"Oh you should join!" he smiles, looking us up and down unashamedly. Yikes.

When I look round a cringing Scarlett has scarpered. That is the last I see of her for the evening.

Meanwhile Antoine, 21, reveals he is from Germany and has flown in especially for tonight's event. What he lacks in 'beautiful' looks he makes up in exuberant personality - if you like small, hyperactive men with flashing finger lights that is. I kid you not, later in the evening I spy Antoine attaching an array of rainbow coloured lights (not dissimilar to the ones my parents bought me for my bicycle) to his digits which he then waves around manically while pulling off some startling dance moves.

Meanwhile the slightly more demure Chris, striking and smartly-dressed, is clearly out to make a good impression. He's even had a man makeover from a female friend who helped him pick out his M&S suit. His chat, though, needs some improvement.

Indeed, when asked by a pretty PR lady to answer a questionnaire he quips: "If I fill it in do I get to touch you up" Luckily for him this tumbleweed moment is drowned out by the pumping music. He later tells me he works as a dolphin trainer but lying really isn't his forte. After a couple of minutes the truth comes out - he actually works in science publishing.

"Attractiveness is based on pheromones. There are MHC receptors on the immune cells that are similar to the ones in your nose..." he begins.
Yep, you've lost me.

He says he's been single for two-and-a-half-years then decides to re-evaluate his answer. "Actually you need to delete the 12 months I went travelling," he reveals. "So actually 18 months."

What sort of girl is he looking for?

"Someone who I can get on well with," he replies.

As if on cue his phone bleeps. "Found any airheads yet?" a text from his friend reads. Bless.

Duncan, 27, works in the city and is straight to the point about how he believes looks are vitally important.

"If I don't get that initial 'I want to rip your clothes off' then I'm not interested," he says candidly.

"But haven't you ever talked to someone who is aesthetically pleasing only for them to become quite unattractive because of their personality?" I question.

"Nope," he smiles without hesitation, before chasing after a pretty young lady.

Not everyone is here to pull. I meet a Russian girl called Julia, 36, who became a member to network and meet new people. She and her sister plan to organise female only evenings to discuss women's health and sexuality. Likewise 'London dating doc' Paul is here to bag potential clients for his one-to-one advisory service for men - The Black Book Consultancy.

I also get talking to a hypnotherapist who immediately thrusts a flyer for his business into my hand.

"I've got you summed up," he tells me confidently within five minutes. "At first you were hesitant to talk to me and your eyes were wandering but then you relaxed when I asked you questions."

"You mean I like talking about myself?" I confirm.

"Basically yes," he replies. Ouch.

Moving on I meet Yukari a make-up artist, who recently abandonedsugardaddie.com to try out BeautifulPeople. She appears to be hitting it off with another BP member, Colin, who is sporting a bright orange complexion, slick black hair and a suit with an open shirt
which smacks of Saturday Night Fever.

In fact by the end of the evening couples everywhere appear to be getting along famously. Marina, 28, a stunning Russian model is snuggled in the corner with Alexander, 21, a rather pretty and chiselled Frenchman. They have been chatting online for several weeks after meeting on BeautifulPeopleand tonight is their first real life
meeting.

"She is even more than I expected," Alexander reveals as Marina smiles
at him. Oooh!

So after meeting the members there is only one thing for it - it's time to try out the website for myself. Yesterday I tentatively uploaded three flattering shots including my piÚce de résistance...

For the next 48 hours existing members will rank me to decide if I'm
'beautiful' enough to make the grade.

Watch this space...

So apparently Robert Pattinson has topped a poll of who we'd most like to kiss under the mistletoe.
 
Lovely Rob (swoon) is followed in hot pursuit by Johnny Depp and Brad Pitt - so far, so good.

I've met hordes of women who go weak at the knees for the media mogul and once witnessed a scantily-clad Emmerdale actress shamelessly throwing herself at him at an awards ceremony with the opening gambit, "You know I fancy ya don't ya?" Simon, as you'd expect, smiled coolly and carried on walking.

It's actually following Simon's ranking that things start to go a little strange.

Santa at 15 I can just about overlook. It is Christmas after all.

But who should follow Justin Timberlake at number 17? A Hollywood hunk? A sporting hero? A sexy singer?

Nope, none other than everyone's favourite two-left-footed, tone deaf twins John and Edward. Ugh.

While I enjoyed laughing at Jedward on X Factor, the thought of kissing them (even worse TOGETHER) under the mistletoe makes me feel just a little bit bilious.

Surely no one would actually go there bar the Cheeky Girls? And they'd only do it for the publicity...

So, moving on, Jedward are followed at number 19 by poor Una Healy from The Saturdays (bet she's thrilled) - which brings us nicely to number 20.

When 5000 people were polled on who they'd most like to snog under the mistletoe, the 20th most popular answer was MY DOG.

Words escape me.

SO WHO'D GET YOUR VOTE?

7.30am: I lie in bed playing the meditation CD on my laptop. A husky American voice fills my head, "Good morning," she soothes. "Make sure your bodeeee is really comfortable. Juuuuuust breathe and let it gooo...

7.40am: "Bless the furniture in your home," she continues. "We all have a favourite piece of furniture have you ever thanked it? Do that now."
Obediently I say thanks to my memory foam mattress. I feel like a tit.

7.45am: "Remember our appliances our extensions of ourselves..." the husky voice continues. "Thank your refrigerator for being there. What do you have in kitchen you can bless with love?" Um, my corkscrew? This is getting silly.

7.47am: "Bless your mailbox and the postal service. It's a miracle that we take for granted." I try really hard not to think about the sodding postal strike.

7.50am: Husky says we take the air we breathe for granted. Stupidly I'm now thinking about what will happen if the air runs out. I feel panicked.

7.55am: I battle on: "Today is a new day and delightful surprises and wonderful adventures are before us. All of your thoughts create your future..." Yes! This is good. I am the new Noel Edmonds.

8am: The CD is finished. I can see that this is a harmonious, loving, prosperous and creative day filled with joy.

9.55am: I am in a good place as I leave the house. I nod as I remember what Ms Meditation told me: "Anyone who irritates you, bless them with love and the love returned to you will be multiplied..."

10am: There is a huge queue at the train station. If I wait to buy a ticket I'll miss the train and I have an interview. I refuse to feel irritated.

10.05am: I am on the train, sans ticket, thinking 'happy thoughts'.

10.15am: My stop. Walking up the steps from the platform my blood curdles. There are no less than six ticket inspectors waiting. It's OK, I can sort this. I take a deep breath and 'bless them with love.'

10.17am: Neither the 'blessing' or 'love' have worked. I am being eyeballed by a huge man with the face of a pitbull. I meekly hand over £20.

10.20am: I am late and the tears are prickling. I don't feel calm.

12.30am: The interview is over and I head back to the train station. "Wherever you are going today send love ahead..." I smile to myself as I visualize a smooth journey.

12.45pm: My train is cancelled!!!!

11.30pm: I climb into bed to listen to the 'evening affirmations'. The laptop is making a whirling noise and the light from the screen illuminates the room. My beau protests.

11.35pm: I carry on regardless. The beau doesn't sigh loudly at all.

11.40pm: "This is a relaaaaaxing time," husky tells me. "I suggest you do not listen to the news just before sleep, you don't want to take those DISASTERS to sleep with you..." DISASTERS? My brain instantly recalls every horrible story I've heard that day. Thanks husky.

11.45pm: "Any anger or pain, resentment or rage, juuuust let it goooo. Think about the people who irritate you the most - they have come into your 'life' to teach you about yourself."

11.47pm: I am thinking about Rikki from X Factor and how his eyebrows irritate me. I'm not sure what this is supposed to teach me.

11.55am: Husky has bid me good night and told me she loves me. Weird. My mind is racing with thoughts about world disasters, suffocation through air deprivation, hateful train staff and Rikki Loney's eyebrows. I lay awake until 2am.

So back to my usual ranting self tomorrow then...

So there I was feeling rather bored in the Post Office queue when I spied a woman with a pushchair. 

Nothing unusual about that you'll agree - apart from the fact there was a dog sitting in it, wearing a t-shirt with 'Stupid' written on it.

They both stared back at me, their tongues lolling out their mouths, as if this was the most normal occurrence in the world.

It reminded me of the time I dressed my Jack Russell Nelson up as a mermaid for the fancy dress category in a dog show at a country fate.

The minute I slipped Nelson into his multi-coloured shimmery little number his tale drooped and he eyeballed me with a deflated look that said, "You're making me cross-dress now? How could you?"

As we entered the ring to join a variety of strange-looking animals, including a dog/bumble bee hybrid and a tiny pooch dressed as Mr Motivator, Nelson dragged his feet.

We then won fifth prize thanks to a sympathy vote because, as the judge said, "He just looks so miserable."

The minute the costume was off Nelson was back to his usual glory, tearing around wagging his tail and impressing the ladies with his ball skills.

I can only assume the dog in the grey t-shirt is much more comfortable with his masculinity...