Blag of tricks

By Jonathan Duffy
BBC News Online

By invitation-only, unless you've blag-ability

Prince William's uninvited party guest has earned his stripes in that most underhand of society sports - blagging.

"Err, I'm a friend of Sid... Tony... William, that's right, I'm mates with William."

No doubt Aaron Barschak exhausted his reserves of guile when gate-crashing Prince William's birthday bash, but you can bet he didn't have to stoop to proffering a four-pack of Stella at the gates of Windsor Castle and guessing the host's name.

Those may be the crude tactics of your typical teenager casting around for a slice of Saturday night action, but blagging one's way into a society do requires a different arsenal of duplicitous techniques.

Until now, donning a satin pink ball-gown, a pair of fake Ray Ban Aviator shades and the sort of comedy beard you could pick up in Woollies for a quid, was not one of them.

The charge is getting in - once you've got past the clipboard Nazis, the event loses its lustre

Toby Young

For that at least, Aaron Barschak will go down in gate-crashing folklore as a true innovator. The rule seems to be, the more unorthodox the strategy, the better.

"A tried and trusted technique is to walk up to the entrance to an exclusive party with a companion of the opposite sex, engaged in a full-throttle, nuclear argument," says Toby Young.

"The natural human instinct to avoid getting involved with an argument, more so a domestic brawl, means the doormen will let you past the ropes without any threat of being questioned."

As an upstart society journalist in the 90s, Young could be found most evenings blagging for Britain on the doorsteps of some of New York's chicest nightclubs.

Toast of the blaggers - Aaron Barschak

He eventually chronicled his exploits in his autobiography How to Lose Friends and Alienate People.

Young's proudest gate-crash moment was in 1994, when he smart-talked his way into Vanity Fair's Oscar-night party in Los Angeles.

"It's the hardest party to get into anywhere in the world. Compared to that, gate-crashing Prince William's party was small potatoes."

Confidence and the gift of the gab are crucial, but sometimes a good prop can help. When journalist William Cash decided to gate-crash a Madonna party at the Cannes film festival, he hired a car that resembled a French police car.

"I waited in a slip road for her convoy to pass and tucked in behind the last limo," recalls Cash, then a reporter with the Times.

Fancy dress 'gift'

Eventually Cash was separated from the cavalcade but, as luck would have it, when he stepped out of his car at the gates of the party, he was pounced on by a TV crew who mistook him for the British actor Rupert Everett.

Ready for anything, except a full-blown domestic argument

That was enough to get him beyond the cordon and a few minutes later Cash wound up dancing with the queen of pop herself.

Fancy dress is a gift to any gate-crasher, says Cash as he mulls the Aaron Barschak affair. "It blurs the lines between guests, adds an air of informality and makes it 50 times easier to get through."

Nicholas Allan, author of the Complete Guide to Gatecrashing, has blagged his way into "hundreds" of society events down the years.

His motivation is the "thrill" of mixing with a class of people who wouldn't normally give him the time of day. But the blag isn't over when you glide past the doormen, he says.

Party addict

"Once you're in, for a while you're really on edge. You've got to establish yourself there without being found out. There comes a moment at every party when you suddenly relax, knowing you won't be found out."

A true blagger must be a good conversationalist

The idea of finding oneself in a room full of strangers is enough to turn most people off gate-crashing. Allan, however, thrives in this environment.

"I like to get out but I don't want to know people too well. I've got very used to approaching people who are complete strangers and striking up a conversation."

The drawback, Allan says, is that the empowering experience can become addictive.

For Toby Young though, the blag was more of a high than the party.

"The party itself is an irrelevant post-script," he says. "The charge is getting in. Once you've got past the clipboard Nazis, the event loses its lustre."