For an hour and a half or so last night, Fez didn’t warrant its apparent perpetuation in the Cambridge Freshers’ Week calendar. The constant reminders in the queue to push up against a wall that was already firmly attached to human buttocks seemed to have a number of harrowing effects on people, ranging from over-emotional departures to Life (not a metaphor) to severe urinary problems, often occurring within seconds of the other. None of this compared to the most harrowing experience of all: the moment of no return when small talk/acceptable humour finally ran dry and the line between offensiveness and inanity was forever blurred.

Fast forward a couple of hours and queue veterans had become wild, unfettered consumers of £1 tequila shots, Jamie T and the British tendency to dance either like inebriated jellyfish or hammerhead sharks in a small pond. Both jellyfish and sharks were catered for musically. A healthy dose of Ellie Goulding put through the Jakwob machine got jellies wobbling, before 99 Problems got hammerheads thrusting their fins to Rick Rubin’s famous beat. Bizarre metaphors aside, the set pleased the crowd without being too familiar, and the mashups created an air of anticipation without asking too much of impatient, drunken minds.

I remember hearing ‘Jus’ a Rascal’ rather than ‘Dance Wiv Me’, almost certainly a good sign, and more importantly, a reminder that, despite dipping heavily into pop at times (Iyaz’s ‘Replay’ had played only five minutes ago), Fez is not yet its barely-in-the-closet camp cousin Cindies. For me, the only no-no was a rehashed ‘Fuck You’, but I’m not the type to complain about the marvellous Cee Lo Green taking up another four minutes of my life. If I had associated my first outing to Fez as a fresher last year with singing, ‘She’s an Xbox, and I’m more an Atari’ all the way home in my best attempt at outdoing John Legend (rather than the unhappy reality of Bloc Party tunes I was long bored of and personal space invasion) I would certainly say the £5 entry was worth it.