THE proprietor of the furniture shop was completely baffled. It was 6.30 in the evening and he was looking forward to locking up for the day when about 300 people suddenly arrived to look at sofas.

Almost as one they said, or tried to say, “Oh wow, what a sofa”, burst out clapping and then, just as suddenly, they went.

Derrick Robinson, of Sofas UK in Central London, had just become the first British victim of “flash mobbing”.

The friendly crowd was acting on instruction leaflets they had been given in four designated Soho pubs. The order was: “Be at the Sofas UK shop by 6.30pm precisely. At 6.33 text a friend with the message ‘Call me’.

“When they call, tell them that you are at the Flash Mob No 1 in London. Look at a sofa, view it with the reverence and awe that one should have for soft furniture and speak the words, ‘Oh wow, what a sofa’. You must behave as if the letter O never existed and omit it from every word you use. Disperse promptly at 6.40 and leave the area. Say goodbye to a person you do not know. Return to your life.”

The perplexed Mr Robinson looked on as mobile telephones tinkled among the young crowd. “Can you tell me what is going on?” he asked.

What was happening was flash mobbing, which began when 150 people simultaneously swooped on the home furnishings department of Macy’s store in New York in June and proceeded to ask bemused sales assistants about the possibility of buying a “love rug” for their “suburban commune”, before abruptly and inexplicably disappearing.

Within days, random acts of pointlessness had broken out across America and much of Europe. A week after what is now reverently referred to as the “rug event”, 250 people gathered at Manhattan’s Hyatt Hotel and broke into 15 seconds of wild applause.

In Rome, 300 people entered a book shop to ask for a non-existent title. In Germany, where the phenomenon has been embraced with particular fervour, “mobsters” gathered around a washing machine display in a Dortmund department store before eating a banana.

The identity of the men and women behind flash mobbing remains a closely guarded secret, even to those taking part in the events. “Bill”, the original flash mobster, uses a pseudonym, as does A ZEE, the computer programmer who organised last night’s affair and runs the website, geocities.com/londonmobs.

Although gathering in an hotel to burst into spontaneous applause is not illegal, there is a subversive edge to the phenomenon that forms part of the attraction. Many participants, most of them in their twenties and thirties, like the thrill of being part of a secret organisation.

Fred Hoysted, a banker who attended the original flash mobs in New York, said: “There is a clandestine element which I think appeals to people.

“It’s fun and it’s definitely not supposed to be threatening, but the fact that you don’t know who is organising it or who else is in on the joke is all part of the thrill.”

Simon Hudson, 33, a marketing manager, had been e-mailed about the sofa shop event by a friend. “I thought it might be the start of a cultural phenomenon, something to tell the grandchildren about. This kind of thing takes you out of the straitjacket of your social life.”

Mr Hudson was thrilled and impressed by the result. “It was amazing,” he said. “It was strange to see people talking in a bizarre way but everyone got the joke.

“I’d definitely come along the next time. It’s completely ludicrous.”

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