“We’re from Clare Sound, we need to get to the main stage, quick!” One carried a small laptop speaker in a crumpled cardboard box. Another clutched an open crate containing a snake’s nest of USB wires. Both wore hi-vis vests, in what could only be an attempt to authenticate the costume by way of appropriating that universal I’m-an-important-worker uniform.

No, these weren’t two sound engineers desperate to solve the technical issues apparently plaguing the May Ball I was working at, but two examples of that common May Week sight: aspiring gatecrashers.

“Many share the opinion that the thrill seeking element of dodging porters and external security provide greater grounds”

While my closest encounter with trespassing may have been a crepuscular post-Junction jaunt home through the Botanical Gardens, Cambridge’s usually law-abiding student body seems all too ready to abandon usual procedures during May Week, making gatecrashing a well-known phenomenon. Ticket prices surpassing £200 would suggest a financial motive to these activities, yet many share the opinion that the thrill seeking element of dodging porters and external security provide greater grounds.

Chatter of May Week throughout my first year at Cambridge did not solely revolve around the dress codes, ticket prices, and lineups, but also the heroic deeds of our predecessors who had managed to enjoy such events without paying. One such example, passed along through college family lines as if it were a beloved heirloom, motivated a trio of first years to attempt to scale Emmanuel’s seemingly permeable walls. Wishing to remain anonymous, either because of their dubious morality or disheartening failure, all were left disappointed, despite their best-laid plans. While their attempts were even labelled “embarrassing” by onlooking security guards, none have been deterred to reattempt next year.

Another more successful first year gatecrasher was spurred into action by a tip off about an ajar side door from a friend on the night of Caius May Ball, suggesting more opportunistic approaches have greater success. On the experience of the Ball upon successfully breaking in, they said: “The first half an hour was spent in moderate fear, scanning for security guards and pulling my shirt sleeves over my naked wrists.”

“They even wished that there had been a necessity for a more daring attempt than the rather tame approach of walking straight in and blending in with the crowd”

However, after a couple of cocktails, this apprehension morphed into a night spent “gloating” in their success at avoiding the “not so eagle eyes” of the employed security. The fresher concluded that while the night paled in comparison to bigger events they attended (as a paying guest) that week, the experience was made all the more enjoyable due to their successful break-in. Furthermore, they even wished that there had been a necessity for a more daring attempt than the rather tame approach of walking straight in and blending in with the crowd.

This year’s gatecrashing doesn’t seem to have been limited to Cantabs, with two Oxford undergraduates managing to scale Jesus College’s walls and evade heat-sensing drones. After enjoying an impromptu evening of the best 40 minutes of music Tinie Tempah had to offer and a morning dip in the Cam, both headed home, bow ties in hand, without paying a penny.

Whichever methods students use in their attempts, and whatever their motives and outcomes, all hopeful gatecrashers seem to share a common feature: the annoyance they cause to May Ball committees. Lauren Welsby-Riley, Homerton May Ball President, faced an all-time high of gatecrashing attempts – and successes – at this year’s event. While perhaps a testament to the popularity of Jedward as a speedy replacement headliner, Welsby-Riley recognises the inconvenience caused to committee members all too well, who are forced to chase around after crashers all night at what should be a celebration of a year of hard work and preparation.

The moral implications of gatecrashing and the inconvenience it causes hasn’t gone unnoticed by the wider Cambridge community, as any avid Camfess spectator will know. Labelled “immoral” by #Camfession40954’s “hot take”, gatecrashing is argued to have negative implications in raising ticket prices for future events to cover added security measures.

Welsby-Riley agrees that “crashers categorically do make prices go up” not only on the advice of greater numbers of security staff, but also because of increased food and drink prices due to issues of resultant overconsumption. Furthermore, despite the widespread stories of adventurous attempts, Welsby-Riley labels hopeful crashers’ techniques as neither “very creative or impressive,” putting their occasional successes simply down to a numbers game of security staff vs. students.

As any student’s collection of nabbed college cutlery shows, the Cambridge student body isn’t always averse to taking more than what their tuition fees cover. The difference, however, with these events, is their nature as student-run and not-for-profit nights, as #Camfession40954 points out.

Perhaps another quote from #Camfession36715 sums up the discourse to many who oppose gatecrashing: “You’re not an edgy anarchist – you’re a privileged Cambridge student taking the piss.” Despite this, the widespread popularity of gatecrashing attempts suggests it is unlikely to diminish any time soon. It seems as if a vicious cycle may have begun of those who (understandably) complain at huge prices finding ‘alternative’ attendance methods, and in turn increasing ticket prices. The numbers of those eager to scale walls, dreaming of swapping smart shoes for scuba gear, or blagging their way past security carrying an empty guitar case, all point to a future in which, as long as there are May Balls, there will be mayhem caused by gatecrashers.