Review: Somerville-Jesus Ball

Huge queues, crap drinks, rubbish entertainment, and aggressive letters from the president to gate crashers. We went to the Last Ball so you didn’t have to.

Fingers crossed that ‘The Last Ball’, hosted by Somerville and Jesus, really was the last ball they are ever allowed to organise.

'As useless as a marzipan dildo'

‘As useless as a marzipan dildo’

The entire soiree was an omnishambles.

Thematically it made no sense. Logistically, some chairs and tables (or any other inanimate objects for that matter) could have done a better job directing people than the committee. And in terms of entertainment, well, I’d hate to have been there sober.

And that is just the start of it.

I actually worked on the ball to begin with, dressed up as a monster to scare people walking round the uninspiring maze that had been installed in Somerville’s dining hall. All seemed to be going well from my perspective, with the guests finishing the attraction genuinely scared.

It was on my break, however, that I fully witnessed the organisational carnage that was ‘The Last Ball’.

A decidedly quieter moment to start queuing for food

A decidedly quieter moment to start queuing for food

The most appalling aspect of it was the decision to have only one food stand catering for 1000 people. The queue had well over 300 people in it, and even though I enjoyed the hog roast that I eventually got, my vegetarian friend was simply offered a lettuce filled pitta or cupcakes.

On this basis alone, I reckon I would have rather spent £110 on a big, steaming pile of shit than on a ticket. Absolutely scandalous.

The veggie option was about as appetising as a kick in the stomach

The veggie option was about as appetising as a kick in the stomach

Then there were the beverages. The drinks committee seemed to have a little more sense than those in charge of food, choosing to have not one but four bars.

However, the cava tasted like piss and the cocktails were intolerable, with even the simplest G&T about as flavoursome as the contents of a colostomy bag. A friend who worked on the bar noted how they only had rum to serve after 1am and by 4am were completely out of booze.

A recurring sight for the bar staff

A recurring sight for the bar staff

Apart from the maze, the only other attraction was a set of oversized swings, which once the protective netting was taken away became a heinous accident waiting to happen.

The choice of music was mediocre with some class acts but others failing to even show up – a stunning bit of foresight on their part – and I do not even want to imagine how much money in damages they will have to pay the silent disco company, who cannot have taken home more than 50% of their headphones in working order. 

The morning after the night before

The morning after the night before

I visited the college the morning after and found the place looking like a bomb had gone off, yet I only saw one man cleaning up. The entire scene was emblematic of the night before: disorganised dump.

Even in hindsight, it is incredibly difficult to sympathise with ‘The Last Ball’. The ‘professional photographs’ taken on the night are yet to materialise on Facebook, and there is word that some gate-crashers have received letters from the ball’s president requesting that they pay the ticket price in full. Good luck with that…


When I finally went to collect my wages, the committee, in fairness, was immensely apologetic about things, fully aware that the night had been an organisational car-crash, yet maintaining that the guests had had fun.


Verdict: A very strong 1.5/10