The lies people tell to get into the Melbourne Cup marquees

ONE of life’s great thrills is bluffing your way into a place you’re not meant to be. The excuses are rolling into the marquees at the Melbourne Cup.

ONE of life’s great thrills is bluffing your way into a place you’re not meant to be.

There’s a certain euphoria that comes with the triumph of sweet-talking your way past the gatekeepers at a private party, the front of a nightclub queue, the business class lounge.

The hardest place to penetrate today is the corporate marquees in the Birdcage enclosure at Flemington racecourse.

Unflappable door guards will have their list of names on an iPad, and if yours is not on the list, well, you better have your excuse ready to go.

Kate Keane from Kate & Co PR has heard every lie under the sun from punters trying to edge their way into the marquees.

Her favourites include “my sister is a celebrity,” “the CEO said I should come in,” “I was a contestant on The Bachelor” and “I need to get back in to use the rest room” — which doesn’t fly when there isn’t actually a bathroom in the marquee).

Ms Keane has been working the Birdcage for 13 years and survives the Spring Racing Carnival on a tried-and-true combination of Party Feet, Hydralyte, Spanx and an espresso martini at the end of each day.

She also says it helps to have a thick skin, because the abuse from rejected punters can come thick and fast.

Another birdcage veteran is John Flower from Hot House Media and Events.

He has heard the line “Don’t you know who I am?” more times than he cares to count and on Saturday at Derby Day he was offered $600 from a punter in exchange for entry into the Swisse marquee. He said several men had also tried to bribe him with drugs in return for entry.

His favourite lines over the years? “I’m a very interesting and exciting person”, “I hear your marquee is beautiful may I come and take a look?” and “Do you not realise how much your party will benefit from having me in it?”

His best anecdote is about two sisters who looked very much alike.

“One was invited to the marquee, one not,” Mr Flower recalls.

“The other sister tried to pass herself off as the invited sister. Fortunately I could tell the difference [between them], but she did pursue it and insist that she was the correct sister to no avail.

“It caused much hilarity in the queue when she was told she was now barred for the foreseeable future.”

Consider us intrigued. But don’t even try and bribe Flower to spill on who those sisters were. He won’t budge.