Stardom lies ahead, but only after the ugly ones are sent home

Under lowering skies and lazy drizzle they came, their enthusiasm for stardom undimmed by the prospect of being told they were ugly. In their spandex and their home-made dresses held together with safety pins, they bared their navels and smiled while their hair gel melted down their spotty faces.

Under lowering skies and lazy drizzle they came, their enthusiasm for stardom undimmed by the prospect of being told they were ugly. In their spandex and their home-made dresses held together with safety pins, they bared their navels and smiled while their hair gel melted down their spotty faces.

Only people this young can be so unaware of the futility of being rich and famous, of the pain of having reporters write nasty things about your complexion, of the fact that when they say "don't call us, we'll call you", they won't call.

Yesterday, some 3,000 youngsters began to learn some of these lessons when they turned up to audition for a place in Hear'Say, the band put together on the television programme Popstars.

The post, left vacant by the departure of Kym Marsh, comes with the guarantee of a daunting workload, the abandonment of any kind of normal life, begging letters, stalkers, bust-ups, break-ups and the emptying of the cupboard in which you keep your skeletons. But still they wanted the job.

They began queuing at 3am outside a rehearsal studio in the Oval, south London. When they arrived, they were greeted by a sign that read: "The first-round auditions are based on a pre-defined look, therefore a vocal audition is not guaranteed." London Weekend Television, which made Popstars and its follow-up, Pop Idol, insisted this was not an attempt to weed out the ugly kids, but when the prized yellow tickets were handed out to those chosen for the singing auditions, you could have sprayed an AK-47 into the recipients and not hit anyone with buck-teeth, a big nose or crossed eyes.

Having weeded out the ugly no-hopers, the rest were herded into two rooms where they were given a chance to sing in front of two band members and either Paul Adam, managing director of Universal Records, or "Nasty" Nigel Lythgoe, who earned his nickname by being ruthless to contenders.

In the room occupied by Noel Sullivan and Myleene Klass – the other band members are Danny Foster and Suzanne Shaw – those who passed the ugly test gave it their all. And, given that these were people who had walked in off the street, the standard was extraordinarily high.

"We haven't had a single poor singer," said Mr Adam, four hours into the auditions. "So far, I've seen quite a few potential stars. We're seeing about 500 today, then we'll whittle it down to about 50 to 70 tomorrow with more singing and dancing and interviews with us and the band members.

"We'll also have to make sure they've got what it takes psychologically because the pressures of fame and stardom are enormous."

One of those who was asked to attend further auditions today was Adele Sanders, a 22- year-old part-time actress and singer. "I would love to be chosen," she said. "I know there would be downsides to fame, like being hounded by photographers all the time, but I'm prepared for that."

For those who didn't make it, there was sympathy from Noel Sullivan. "I was in their shoes not so long ago and it is really terrifying," he said.

The "lucky" winner is expected to be announced tonight before being given a makeover, facial, dancing lessons, singing lessons and media lessons.

There will, however, be no lessons in trashing hotel rooms and taking copious amounts of drugs. Sadly, real popstars don't do that any more.