More than 700 couples entered the sixth annual battle of the brides, run by Wedding Journal magazine, and last week The Irish Times eavesdropped on the judging process in search of an answer to the, quite frankly, perplexing question of what makes the ideal bride.

The Northern Ireland heats were held in the publisher's Belfast office, where a conference table had been decorated with a huge bunch of lilies. Before the hopefuls trooped in, the judges (Wedding Journal editor Wynn Warnock, Jerry Hickey and Lynne Starke from competition sponsor Clarins, dress designer Kathryn Morrison and PR executive Janine Rainey) explain how they will spot Mr and Ms Right. It's not a beauty pageant, they insist, obviously keen to avoid any Miss World-type controversy.

"The main criteria is how they fit together, a special story of how they met, maybe their body language. But mostly we are looking for a couple who can spark out that kind of energy," says Warnock. The other judges, experienced in these things, nod as they sip coffee around the interview table.

"You'll go out of here today knowing romance is not dead," Starke assures me.

The set-up looks like a job interview, but instead of trying to articulate what makes them the best person for the post, contestants at the Northern Ireland heats in Belfast spend a nervous half-hour proving to the panel just how well-qualified they are to walk up the aisle. ("He/she's my best friend"; "I can tell her/him everything"; "S/he picks up my dirty clothes the morning after the date before"; "She's hyper, I'm quiet"; "We make each other laugh".)

The Southern heats had been held in Dublin the day before. One of the five couples there had delighted judges by revealing how they kept the fires of romance burning with something called a "happy box" - Tom and Nicole take note. "They put little notes and gifts in it for each other from time to time . . . It was lovely," says Warnock.

The "happy box" had clearly impressed, but the first couple from the Northern shortlist, sales adviser Lisa (25) and sales engineer Adrian (27), have serious chemistry on their side. The body language is promising, Lisa placing a reassuring hand on Adrian's leg every now and then, his eyes meeting hers for longer than is strictly necessary. Theirs is a sweet story of traditional courtship - he had even asked her dad for her hand, which led to a fumbling wedding proposal on a beach in Kerry "where Ryan's Daughter was filmed". As soon as they leave the room, the judges beam at each other. Lisa is perfect Bride of the Year material and the groom isn't bad either. This could be the one.

Next up are super-fit gym bunnies Heather (24) and Ziad (28). They had met when she'd bumped into his car and, after exchanging details, he'd phoned to ask for a date. Asked what his best quality is, Heather tosses her long blonde hair and talks about how organised he is, how good, particularly, he is at ironing.

"And if I didn't have him, I would say I would be in debt. He is very. very organised," she says. Ziad says Heather is bubbly and he likes the fact that she knows what she wants. "Heather is hyper . . . I need someone like that; it balances me," he adds.

Couple number three had already made the news because of the way Colin (30) had proposed to Carol (30) - he'd coolly popped the question at an ice hockey match in Belfast's Odyssey Arena in front of 7,000 people.

"She is loving and thoughtful," says Colin of his bride-to-be.

"That's not what you said last night," Carol retorts.

Having heard that he had given her the book, Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus, for Valentine's Day, it doesn't seem right to laugh at Colin's quip that they aren't married yet and already "the cracks are beginning to show".

One would imagine there could be few more mortifying experiences than having your love life publicly unpicked and, symbolically at least, marked out of 10. Sitting on the other side of the table, however, is a potential paradise for the voyeuristically inclined. But the questions asked of the brides and grooms-to-be were as safe as the houses the couples have recently purchased and are busy decorating in advance of their "Big Day!". (In Weddingland, capital letters and exclamation marks are king, as in The Ring!, The Proposal!!, The DRESS!!!)

Instead of anodyne queries such as "what are your fiancee's best qualities?", what any nosey-parker worth the name wants to ask is: "What really gets up your nose about your other half? Is there anyone else you would rather be marrying? Have you checked the divorce statistics lately, guys? And, finally, Mr Romantic and Ms Lovestruck, can you tell the panel whether you are really sure about this marriage thing, or just worried that if you don't get hitched now, you will be left on the shelf?"

It is easy to be cynical or to mock the whole idea of a competition which pits couple against couple for the chance to avoid getting into debt as a result of paying for chauffeur driven cars, a band and a dress the bride will never wear again. Some don't even bother hiding their desperation to win, like the entrant from the South who took three pages to describe how she got together with her mate. It was a rambling sub-Mills and Boon tale which could have been subtitled "More Information Than You Needed To Know". The eventual proposal was movie-inspired. "I was just about to go asleep one night and Victor put his arms around me and sang Adam Sandler's Wedding Singer song," revealed the excited finalist. She enclosed a tape of the song in case the judges weren't familiar with the tune.

"On hearing Victor sing to me, I nearly melted. I could not believe he knew all the words. From that moment, I wanted to become Mrs K*****, and then our plans began." She signed her epic "with Love and Light".

Another bride-to-be wrote a poem.

"A Clarins bride I dream to be/For friends and family all to see/On that morning I'd awake/Knowing Clarins put the icing on the cake . . . Then onto Rathsallagh for a dance at the afters/Everyone bopping, place packed to the rafters . . ."

You get the picture. This rhyming applicant was a journalist, incidentally. And although the judges say they try to weed out the sob stories ("It's about a celebration of love, not hard-luck tales," insists Warnock), one finalist had written that both she and her fiance had had a hard life growing up. "Patrick came from Belfast, where things were not easy," she wrote on the application form.

Yes, sneering at Bride of the Year is as easy as flinging a bouquet in the direction of your desperate---married best mate, but for some reason the whole experience is strangely edifying. There is an innocence to Lisa and Adrian's blind adoration of one another, while personal favourites Serena (32), a nurse, and outdoor pursuits instructor Jonathan (29) had clearly entered for a laugh. And like most of the couples, you could tell it wouldn't matter to them whether they won this competition or not. "Their wedding will be a day to remember, with or without the help of Wedding Journal," acknowledges Warnock.

"It's a hard decision because every couple has something going for them. But, in the end, you just know which one to choose; it is always a unanimous vote."

And despite the endless chatter about "the Reception" and "the Cars" and "the Suits", things that are often given far too much importance and definitely far too many capital letters, listening to the loved-up couples is heart-warming in a cheesy kind of way.

There is a tinge of sadness, too, for anyone wishing to scratch beneath the icing on the multi-tiered wedding cakes. The prize may be a £15,000 fairytale wedding, but with two in five marriages ending in divorce in Northern Ireland, no amount of money can buy a happy-ever-after ending.

The winner of Bride of the Year will be announced on Fri- day at Brides Fair 2001, which takes place in King's Hall, Belfast from Friday to Sunday. For more information, call 048-90- 457700