Savage old ladies with knives in their handbags; scary, sharp-elbowed couples in matching anoraks; mile-long queues for the world’s most expensive tea; and absolutely nowhere to sit. Welcome to the real RHS Chelsea Flower Show.

This is my sixth tour of duty on the floral front line. Big sponsors have been hit by the recession. Few green economic shoots mean fewer big show gardens. Still, the show covers 11 acres, with 600 exhibitors including Urban Gardens, Courtyard Gardens, florists, the Great Pavilion and what I broadly class as “tat”. Saturday is sell-off day, when the gardening gloves come off and it’s everyone for themselves. Whatever day you go, you need a plan: a Chelsea survival strategy.

First, get a ticket. The first two days, already sold out, are for RHS members only (including the Queen). It is worth joining for free entry to RHS gardens, a great monthly magazine and the opportunity to buy show tickets months before anyone else has a chance. Visitor numbers are capped at 157,000 (but it still feels mobbed). Tickets cost £43. I have bought and sold tickets on eBay. As ever, ensure that your buyer or seller has a trustworthy rating. To avoid postal delays and fakes, exchange tickets and money at the gate on the day.

Getting there and getting in is easier than getting out. Queues form long before the gates open at 8am. Arrive in the lull before lunch because most gardeners are so ritualised that they couldn’t possibly miss lunch. If you are going on sell-off day, get in as early as possible.

Times Archive, 1924: The King and Queen at Chelsea

Their majesties were much interested in the Hon. Vicary Gibbs's wonderful display of forced vegetables

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Free, wheelchair-accessible shuttle buses run from Victoria. It is the only day I drive in Central London (because a car is the only way I can haul my many purchases home). Parking spaces in Battersea Park soon fill up. There is a secret and pleasingly cheap car park near by. I won’t reveal where. Try sneaking a space in the swanky surrounding streets.

You survival kit must include: water, a flask of tea, sandwiches, fruit and some booze. In 2008 5,564 bottles of champagne and 53,680 glasses of Pimm’s were drunk. The official show cocktail, created by the head mixologist at Pearl Restaurant & Bar, has Tanqueray gin and rosé champagne garnished with Singapore orchids. Worth queueing for.

However tempting it may appear, don’t steal fruit from stands because you are ruining the viewing pleasure for countless others (and it has usually been polished so it tastes toxic — not that I’d know). Take plenty of cash — more than you think you’ll spend. I take £250. There are three cash machines on-site but queues are long and they do run out. Don’t dare try to pay with a card or cheque in the sell-off mêlée.

When at Chelsea do as the matrons do and wear comfy shoes and a hat. Don’t bring a brolly because it will blind people and anyway rain is an excuse to get lost in the grandeur of the Great Pavilion. Well-heeled greying gardeners know that they are unlikely to be stopped and searched so don’t bother to stash the knives they bring to take illicit cuttings. Backpacks will get you tutted at. Bring bin bags or one of those natty Columbia Road flower market carriers.

Collapsible trolleys are good. Argos does a Marketeer shopping trolley (£34) with special wheels for tackling stairs — great if you are going home by Tube laden with plants. The most stylish solution is the classic red Radio Flyer wagon, which is cumbersome but capacious (about £80 online).

Wheelchairs are great. The companion of a bona fide wheelchair-user gets in free — another reason to love Chelsea Pensioners. There are, however, more miracles at Chelsea than at Lourdes, with countless disabled gardeners springing up bright-eyed and strong-limbed ready to use their wheelchairs as shopping trolleys.

Sell-off starts at 4pm. When Alan Titchmarsh rings that bell, civilisation temporarily stops. It’s Lord of the Flies with sweet peas. The crowd breaks in every direction. Don’t panic. Savvy Chelsea-goers get in early — in the morning ask exhibitors to reserve plants. Some have signs saying No Selling — a new and laudable practice is the rebuilding of show gardens elsewhere, often for charity. Ask anyway. Don’t lose your receipt. Or your nerve. I’ve seen brawls over a begonia. People even stop queueing.

The best bargains are cut flowers or blooming bulbs. In 2005 I injured my shoulder carrying a great sheaf of lilies snapped up for £10. It may sound obvious but don’t buy a cactus as you will perform impromptu acupuncture on yourself and others all the way home. Go for hardier, waxy-leaved shrubs such as Euonymus.

Jekka McVicar’s gold-medal-winning herbs and the various lavender farms all offer excellent value. David Austin makes a point of never selling his stunning roses but if you mail-order at the show you get discounts.

You’ll look like a triffid as you leave festooned with flowers. Arrange for a rickshaw to pick you up — they’re open-topped, so you can cram plants in without damaging them or yourself. And it’s far more glam than the bus. Sit back among your sweet-scented swag and smile at the stragglers struggling home. You’ve survived, in style.

Ticket hotline: 0844 2090363, www.rhs.org.uk/ chelsea. RHS show information: 020-7649 1883

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