’Twas the night before Downing May Ball 2025. My mates and I were about a dozen drinks deep at Jesus May Ball when we hatched a plan: we would do a May Ball bender on a budget. That budget being zero pounds – we were going to crash a May Ball.

But this story actually starts earlier that term. I’d been told by someone going to Downing May Ball that the headliner had been announced: ENNY. ‘Charge It’, her most famous single, had been my most-played song in both 2022 and 2023, so the Ball FOMO hit immediately – and only grew stronger as the term went on.

Now, I know May Ball crashers get a bad reputation: distasteful, selfish, dishonest – the list goes on. I could pretend that my choice to stay anonymous is about maintaining an air of mystery, but we both know I’m just trying to shield myself from an onslaught of Camfess abuse. I appreciate that crashing is a bit unfair to the paying attendees and the committee, but life’s unfair. And, if you’ll indulge the rage bait, surely the hatred towards crashers is just jealousy that you couldn’t manage it?

“Every inch of the perimeter of Downing was teeming with security”

Fast forward to that fateful night. Still hungover from Jesus May Ball, we spent the evening painting over our wristbands and scouting the area for a potential entry point. We slipped into all-black outfits in an attempt to camouflage ourselves. There was just one small problem: every inch of the perimeter of Downing was teeming with security.

Cambridge that night had two kinds of people: those inside the May Balls, and those plotting how to get in. As you wander the empty Cambridge streets on the night of a May Ball, the only other people you pass are fellow would-be crashers, which creates a strange sense of camaraderie. Knowing looks are exchanged. Intel about where security is thickest gets quietly shared.

At one point, we tried to climb a wall obscured by trees when an ominous voice called out: “I know you’re there. Come out from the dark.” We ran. The whole thing felt slightly horror-movie-meets-007. By this point we’d almost lost hope. But I live by the words “where there’s a will, there’s a way,” and so giving up wasn’t on the cards.

A magician never reveals his secrets, so I won’t disclose exactly how my mate and I eventually pulled it off. It was dramatic, but not in the way you might imagine. No jumping over walls, no security guards chasing after us.

“If all the world’s a stage, that night I delivered the performance of my life”

Instead, it involved the most elaborate blagging and improv I’ve ever attempted – and the first time my 9 in GCSE Drama has truly come in handy. If all the world’s a stage, that night I delivered the performance of my life. The adrenaline high lasted for hours, and you best believe I drank and ate the equivalent of what a family of eight would consume. In hindsight, it was reckless, unnecessary, and dishonest. Would I recommend it? Probably not. Would I do it again? Well. There’s a reason why I won’t disclose the details.

I’ll end with a bit of wisdom for anyone feeling brave (or in their third year with nothing left to lose). Do not bring any form of ID: no CamCard, no driving licence. Be realistic about the number of accomplices; you’re probably better off trying to sneak in with one friend than a group of six or seven. Scout the area beforehand and – please – don’t attempt any ridiculous stunts. Another friend who separately tried to break into Downing May Ball ended up in A&E that night… Of course, you could just buy a ticket, be an honest person, and save yourself the hassle. But where would the fun be in that?