It is a little like the plot from a dystopian novel.
A culture in which the course of a person’s life is determined by three (or four if you went to a posh school) letters, allocated on adulthood. A ceremony where adults in positions of power fling abuse and invective at those just starting their life, or offer trite and insulting advice.
The whole week of Results Day is riven with curious traditions (a sermon, for instance, from a disgraced former motoring journalist turned terrible farmer) but the idea that the wrong set of letters closes off life choices is a tradition that needs to end now.
Let me show you how.
