The art – the science – of May Ball crashing is sought by many, but mastered by few. And yet, as long as there have been May Balls, there have been noble souls defrauding those May Balls, tirelessly and selflessly working to dismantle a system that identifies as a definitive part of ‘the Cambridge experience’ an experience available only to those members of the University willing and able to shell out on costly tickets and attire to match.

One such dissident is among our number here at Varsity. And by pooling her knowledge and that of the members of the dark circles in which she moves, we have put together the Varsity guide to crashing May Balls –which Varsity, its editorship, and its board, of course, in no way condone, nor will they accept any responsibility for damages incurred by any persons adhering to the advice offered herein.

So, that said, here are your options:

1. The ‘Break-In.’

Fairly self-explanatory, but get creative. And, by that, I mean that the risk of gate-crashers abseiling into the party across the Cam and a wall guarded by Porters is already on the security briefings for several Balls on the Backs. Not for the faint of heart: if you are not happy clambering up, and hopping down from, the walls of Sidney in a ball gown and heels, and – crucially – walking off from the crime-scene like nothing happened, then this is not the approach for you.

2. The ‘Agent Provocateur.’

Sleep with the Security Officer: sometimes the only way to get them to breach their brief is to breach their briefs yourself first. Viable alternatives include bouncers, Porters, and other committee members: adjust to taste.

3. The ‘Stolen Identity.’

There were definitely two Masters walking around St. John’s last year, and that is a resounding testimony to the power of an elaborate disguise. Recommended personages to assume this year include would-be headliner Taylor Swift (‘Surprise!’), and treasured graduates of the year Eddie Redmayne (‘I’m a Pitt Club alumnus and Oscar winner: make way’) and Stephen Hawking (‘this is definitely a universe in which I’m on the guest list’). But you make it your own.

4. The ‘Wristband.’

An old chestnut: you wait in College with your sewing kit whilst your paying friends (fools) send back intelligence as to the design and colour the committee in question has favoured, knock up a replica, and in you saunter. Some colleges are getting around this with flashing wristbands, so add an Engineering student and some LEDs to your arsenal.

5. The ‘Tall Tale.’

You’ve spent all year studying the narrative techniques of oral transmission amongst Yugoslav bards: now is the time to apply that multi-applicable Arts degree. Tailoring to your audience is essential. For example, if you are dealing with a male bouncer, make him absolutely as uncomfortable as possible by recounting in detail how you came onto your period and had to leave for a bit. Or if it’s a committee member who’s spent the last week drowned in complicated arrangements for the Ball, start explaining your own complicated arrangement for the Ball: your principal ticket-holder is a performer at the Ball and therefore already inside, they were meant to come out and find you but their set got delayed due to complications arising from…They’ll shut you up with a wristband faster than you can say ‘impending mental breakdown.’

So that’s the game: there are ten balls left, you have ten lives. Godspeed.