But Yegor and his nine comrades put up with the irritating paperwork. They are performers in St. Petersburg's Upsala circus - made up of children who have lived on the street - and preparing for a 12-city tour of Germany this summer.
After the forms have been properly filled out, the young acrobats can finally practise.
Their leader, 29-year-old Berlin native Astrid Schorn, wrinkles her nose upon entering the impressive new circus tent.
"It already smells like a real circus ring in here," says Schorn, a social educator who got to know St. Petersburg during a training course there. "The acrobats should wash their feet more often and change their socks every once in a while."
Personal hygiene is not among the biggest concerns of Wanya, Kolya, Galya and Masha.
The boys and girls, between the ages of seven and 18, have all lived part of their lives on the streets of St. Petersburg, a city of five million inhabitants and hardly moderate climate.
Every one of them has serious problems at home. Alcoholic parents, drug addiction, poverty, violence and neglect have left their marks. The circus aims to put their lives into some kind of order.
Schorn founded Upsala, which can be translated as "Oops," five years ago. She rolled around St. Petersburg on a unicycle and spoke to homeless children at underground railway stations.
The circus, she says, is just the right medicine for homeless children and teenagers, who "are looking for adventure, know no fear and are constantly hungry for an ego boost."
A dearth of financial support as well as resistance by municipal authorities almost made Schorn give up on her project. But then she found sponsors in both Germany and Russia, and reached agreements with the police and youth agencies.
The circus began to take shape when Larisa offered her services. A young Russian whose childhood was also troubled, she does the choreography.
Besides Larisa, the circus now has two professional jugglers and a retired master acrobat who work with the children, who number as many as 50. Some will be travelling to Germany for the third time.
Their new programme is called "Sobaki" ("Dogs"). Modelled on circus theatre, it is about a group of dogs seeking a home after their owners kicked them out of the house.
For Grisha, a 10-year-old boy with brown curls, the company of his peers is the most important thing about the afternoons he spends in and around the circus tent.
"Everyone's so nice to me," he says, beaming and somewhat nervously squeezing two juggling balls.
Grisha lived for a while in a children's home but is now back with his family. "Our goal is to get the kids back home again because the situation in children's homes is usually a lot worse," Schorn says.
There are thousands of children like Grisha in St. Petersburg. Riding an underground train to the suburbs in the evening, you can see them crouched in dark corners with bags for sniffing glue.
As for Grisha, he has begun to dream again since joining the circus. "I want to be the world champion in juggling someday," he declares.
"That means 13 balls at the same time. I can already juggle three."
