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Date in a Dash now hosts more events in London than its competitors, has over 30,000 members and is working with top brands in quality venues all over the city.And it is the first, in fact, to host an event of this kind.(a few girls chose to keep their bra and pants on, but others decided to try the full monty with me).In general, the atmosphere was full of mutual support and sleepover-esque solidarity.The robes come off, you check each other out for a sphincter-crushingly awkward ten minutes, then you get dressed and proceed to speed date as normal. After an awkward mingle in the bar, which rather like a school disco involved palling up with the nearest member of the same sex and huddling in the corner, the girls were taken into a sweet and quirky cinema room to change.The atmosphere fizzed like prosecco: we giggled, hugged, compared choice of hairstyle (top and bottom), admired each other’s underwear...The first few seconds were a blur: heart pounding, breath catching, trying not to giggle or be caught ogling anyone too blatantly. Despite dire warnings about everything from “old perverts” sneaking in to “fatties on parade”, everyone was in their mid twenties to early thirties, and a pretty pleasant-looking bunch they were, too.

“Fast forward seven years, and here we are.” Here he is, indeed.

Boys on one side of the room, girls on the other, with barely repressed giggles and fear sweat in the air – the temperature was turned up to the max, presumably to make sure the women had something to look at when the men stood up.

It was then that Rob informed us that, as predicted by my friends and family but strenuously denied by myself, the clothes would not be coming back on anytime soon. After all, in for a penny, in for a few extra Christmas pounds.

Everyone pretty much took their kit off straight away.” I ask him whether, if people had known the naked truth – as it were – there would have been fewer ticket sales. Bit cheeky, but the way I advertised it was to get people here, and I knew deep down that people would go for it – which is what they did.” He was right.

The whistle blew, the ladies chose a table, up stood the men and off came the robes.

“I wouldn’t do it in a million years.” Red rag to a bull, I’m afraid.