In a Cambridge theatre scene which often feels cliquey and cramped, Joey Frances and Rebecca Odman-Stonehouse are a breath of fresh air: with minimal theatrical experience, and a hell of a lot of chutzpah, they have together set up the King’s College Dramatic Society (KCDS).

More remarkable is that it didn’t already have one: ‘It’s shocking,’ agrees Frances. ‘There are so many people involved with theatre at King’s, but there’s no outlet for it in college.’ The pair are keen to foster theatrical talent, by making the society accessible to all: ‘We wanted to create something that was easy to get involved in, for people who perhaps didn’t have the confidence to go for ADC productions’.

‘Easy’, however, is not the word I’d use for No Exit, the play KCDS have selected for their first production. Written by Jean-Paul Sartre in the aftermath of WWII, the play depicts hell as a room, in which three deceased characters are trapped for eternity. It is, needless to say, deeply existential, its most famous line being: “l’enfer, c’est les autres” (“Hell is other people”). It is not an easy play. And having been so recently disappointed by GADS’ attempt at Les Justes, I wondered whether the pair might be punching above their weight.

Frances doesn’t seem fazed: “It’s not a play about philosophy, it’s about people”. He tells me that he doesn’t want people to worry about the play’s philosophy, as “it becomes totally self-evident”, worked out through the relationships that unfold within it. So, mercifully, Frances spares me the philosophical sales pitch: “Really, it’s about three people relating to one another, trying to get on, and failing.” I think Frances’ humanist approach to such a difficult text is wise, and will really work for his production. His choice of venue is similarly well-advised: The King’s Bunker, the college’s newly re-opened underground venue, promises to make the perfect hell.

Despite being a small production, with a cast of only four, and few props and scenery, No Exit has presented a number of technical challenges to Frances and the team: “It’s hard doing anything, even on a small scale,” he tells me, “with such limited resources”.

Though Frances seems surprisingly nonchalant (“Fuck it,” Frances says, “it’ll work out”), I can tell the pair have worked extremely hard to acquire the props they need (including a “bronze monstrosity”), and wade through the bureaucratic swamp in order to get space and funding.

Frances and Stonehouse won me over with their non-elitist approach to theatre, and their sheer pluckiness. The immense effort they have put into both KCDS and its debut performance has been fuelled by raw enthusiasm. Listening to their grand plans for KCDS make me excited about the future of Cambridge theatre: putting on at least one play per term, opening up new and unconventional theatre spaces and running drama workshops, to name a few.

Though their ambitions might be admirable, why, I ask, should people pay to see this first attempt of a barely-established drama society? Stonehouse grins at me: “To see if we pull it off”.