These ‘semi-pro’ skiers will always ask for an early breakfast so they can ‘get first lifts’ (or, in seasonnaire-speak, snow plough corduroy).

Although their midnight marauding renders this impossible. They will all still be asleep and dribbling when you arrive at the chalet an hour early.

Fergus, Harry and Hugh will spend every day comparing cock sizes by tragically skidding down the iciest black run they can find and then boasting to you about it over dinner before groping your arse.

Crass jokes and piles of coke aplenty, they’ll boil their sweaty bodies in the hot tub and leave brown unidentified scum floating on the top of the water for you to enjoy cleaning.

Nights will be spent trashing the chalet and scoffing all the cheese (NB: always keep a sacrificial camembert for this purpose) then sleeping in until midday so you can’t clean their rooms.

As the cherry on top, they’ll think it’s hilarious to keep booby-trapping each other and you with ‘hilarious’ (messy) pranks like cling-filming the toilet seat, and then force you to down a yard of vodka at the end of the week to ‘earn your tip’.