Is there a more quintessentially British rite of passage than the post-sixth form group holiday? Perhaps yours was to Zante, or maybe its slightly classier cousin Ayia Napa? Maybe you went full Brits abroad on the strip in “Shag-aluf”?
It’s perhaps less likely that you opted to spend a week on the run from a group of drug-dealing murderers in Rotterdam after accidentally attempting to sell them five kilograms of 80 per cent pure heroin. But hey, it could happen to anyone.
