Though this story was reported and written by a real person, please note that it should be taken as satire. None of the advice herein should be taken seriously, especially as Mr. Miles is a fictional character.
Anyone with enough cash and a few connections can get a membership at one of London’s private social clubs. However, sneaking in is way more rewarding. Maybe it’s the thrill of the subterfuge, or maybe it’s related to a chubby 10-year-old (aka yours truly) who finally got invited to Mike Reppucci’s really cool tree house only to be pelted with water balloons upon arrival. Either way, here’s how to make it inside the haunts of the haves and have mores.
The Groucho Club
If Jackson Lamb belonged to a club, this would be it. The unofficial club motto is “Don’t be a ‘cunt.’” Nobody cares who you are here — it’s not about influencers or bottle service, or talking about watches. Please never talk about watches. The Groucho is where you see a 70-year-old in a Napalm Death T-shirt doing shots with an MP and an OnlyFans model. A night at The Groucho guarantees a blistering hangover and maybe a new friend or two.
Getting in has gotten tougher lately, especially after a very serious sexual assault led to — among many other things — a suspended liquor license. The old leather sign-in book is gone, replaced by barcodes, scanners and CCTV. It’s Harry Potter-turned-Minority Report. Still, it’s worth the risk. If you get caught, they’ll probably be lovely about it as they lead your ass to the door.
The Strategy
The Yellow Door: Twenty yards left of the main entrance is a yellow door used for deliveries and private events. It’s often left unlocked. If so, head inside and wander to the upper floors of the club to have a look around and lose suspicion. Then casually stroll down the front stairs into the main bar. “Hey everybody, I’m here!”
The Smoke Screen: Wait outside the club for a group of smokers to emerge. Casually chat them up as they court cancer, blending into their group. When they are finished smoking, keep talking and stroll back inside alongside them, past security. You are officially in. If you seem like a good time, they may even buy you a pint.
Likelihood of Getting In: 6.8
Fun Level: 8.5
Wanker Level: 3.1
5 Hertford Street
Have you heard? 5 Hertford Street is exclusive, like the most exclusive club in the history of exclusivity. It even has a hard-to-find location…right at the corner of Pretense and Ego Streets. And that is precisely why you want to sneak in!
5 Hertford, pronounced “Hartford,” like the sad Connecticut city, was founded by the son of the owner of Annabel’s (we’ll get to that) after he was cut out of the family business. He was also savagely — and sadly — mauled by a tiger at a family friend’s private zoo. The crowd is hedge-fund heavy, with a smattering of jowly Turnbull & Asser addicts and young Eurocrats, who may or may not be wanted by Interpol.
Because of all the exclusivity hype, getting into 5 Hertford is extra satisfying. Planning and timing are key to making it through the club’s unmarked maroon front door, but you can do it. Hell, I did.
The Strategy
Walk This Way: The staff at 5 Hertford are very good at their jobs. Unfortunately. So, have a member’s name ready as you approach the door. If you don’t know a member, find a name online, someone low profile in finance or tech, not George Clooney. If the reception staff is swamped, don’t break stride. Walk straight past the desk. Head into the main courtyard bar and lose yourself in the crowd. Order a Gin and Tonic immediately. Then, talk to anyone. Oxbridge lads in town for the night, a Danish telecom giant, it doesn’t matter. Just don’t look like a sad-sack loner.
That Darn Hugo: If you don’t make it past the reception desk, it’s time for skillful bluffing. Give the name of the guest you are supposedly meeting. When they say they’ve yet to arrive, do an eye-roll-and-sigh combo that communicates “Typical Hugo.” They’ll then invite you to wait for the member in a small side bar. Sit at the bar with a good view of the reception area. Get ready to make your move. Your target is Loulou’s, the basement nightclub. The entrance is a velvet curtain diagonally across from where you are. When reception gets crowded…GO! Once through the curtain, relax. Now go roam the dimly lit club and watch billionaires dance badly. Oh, and take a photo of the stuffed giraffe. It’s solid proof you made it in.
Likelihood of Getting In: 4.9
Fun Level: 6.4
Wanker Level: 8.3
Weed Is Chic Now. Too Bad for This Former Stoner.
John DeVore gave up getting high decades ago. Now he has to deal with normies being stoned 24/7.The Garrick Club
It’s not about whether you can sneak inside The Garrick, it’s more about what the hell there is to do once you’re in. The Garrick isn’t somewhere you go to party. You go to eat a perfectly grilled lamb chop, drink claret and maybe get into a furious argument with a Booker Prize runner-up. This is the real deal in terms of tweedy British clubs with a small, closely guarded membership of actors, playwrights and judges who lean a bit older. “Remarkable, you were ring bearer at Churchill’s wedding?”
The Garrick is the definitive old boys’ club, having strictly been only boys until 2024 when it finally succumbed to that outrageous social experiment of allowing women members. This is the museum of wild-caterpillar eyebrows, where every other person looks like Statler or Waldorf, but with gin blossoms and a title. Sneaking into The Garrick isn’t about hanging with the elite, it’s about discovering what actually goes on behind the club’s doors, like you’re getting a glimpse into a secret society or Tom Cruise’s bathroom.
The Strategy
Operation Cumberpatch: One of the highlights of The Garrick is the portraits of current and past members that line the walls. The bar’s centerpiece is a massive formal portrait of Benedict Cumberbatch, Matthew Macfadyen and Damian Lewis together. They are members and apparently close friends, that or they all just wandered into the artist’s studio on the same day. Make viewing this portrait your sneaking-in goal, paying close attention to Cumberbatch’s shoes — he’s wearing trainers, footwear strictly prohibited by the club’s dress code. This fact caused outrage amongst the club’s old guard and had them muttering that they were definitely right about that Turing fellow.
No Moncler, Don’t Care: With the Cumberbatch controversy in mind, adherence to the dress code will help hide your interloper status. Preferably wear a suit, definitely a tie and real adult shoes. The Garrick believes this look keeps out riffraff and probably anyone from California. No bright colors or anything logo-heavy, either. Navy blue is considered “showy” inside these walls.
Deep Background: The efficient, affable doormen at The Garrick would never suspect someone would be a dirtbag and sneak into the club, so once you give them the name of the member you’re meeting, your path is clear. The doormen know members well, so research the person’s name you give to make sure they’re not away on a shoot in Argentina, currently incarcerated or dead.
Likelihood of Getting In: 7.1
Fun Level: 5.9
Wanker Level: 6.2 (but in a Willy Wonka way)
Annabel’s
If you want to get into a club that’s been mired in scandal and whose décor makes the current Oval Office look tasteful, then Annabel’s is for you! This place has everything: oligarchs, escorts, a giant golden gorilla, Russian spies, a Picasso, crocodile sinks carved out of onyx, a $60 glass of house wine and a no-visible-male-nipple policy. Annabel’s is the definition of naff, a British slang word never fully understood before witnessing a gentleman in a Medusa head Versace suit get out of an orange Lamborghini in front of the club.
You shouldn’t feel guilty about sneaking in here, as this is not a bastion of moral integrity. You’re surrounded by the shameless in a club that even got a shout-out in Epstein’s “black book” (page 63).
The Strategy
If It Worked for Adele: While others are hoping a twenty tucked into the pocket of the doorman will get them inside (it won’t), skip the insanity at the club’s entrance by heading to the secret rear door behind Annabel’s. This is the entrance used to avoid paparazzi and private detectives hired by divorce lawyers. Look for Bourdon Street, an unassuming little paved alley, and head down till you reach the Gagosian Gallery. A plain, dark-green service entrance door, adjacent to the gallery, is what you’re looking for. Wait for guests to leave, then grab the door and head inside. Yes, there is CCTV and security at the door, but it’s not always monitored. Sure, it’s risky, but so is shrimp salad that’s been left out in the sun.
They Like Me, They Really Like Me: Annabel’s doesn’t really get going till after 10, so the crowd often goes for pre-game drinks in the neighborhood. So, it is your mission as a charming and clever American to head to the fancy bars surrounding Berkeley Square and make friends. Try the bars at The Connaught, Claridge’s and Scott’s between 7 and 9 p.m. and be your most fascinating. Make up some story as to why you’re alone (“My wife had her passport stolen in Cape Town!”) and get invited to join their party. Don’t be too friendly as they may take you for a “pro,” or think you’re trying to steal their kidney.
Likelihood of Getting In: 5.3
Fun Level: 6.1
Wanker Level: 9
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