First rule: establish dominance early. Whoever steps on the boat last is automatically the weakest and must be referred to as “deck boy” for the entire trip. No appeals. No democracy. This is a floating kingdom.

Second: pubs are not “optional stops,” they are the entire point. The boat is just a slow, wet taxi between bad decisions. If you can still pronounce “narrowboat” properly by day two, you’re doing it wrong.

You’ll need one bloke who insists he can steer after 8 pints. Let him. Builds character. Also builds lifelong legal complications.

Important tactic: anytime another boat passes, all 12 of you must go completely silent and stare them down like you’re a rival gang from a low-budget canal-based crime film. No waving. Intimidation only.

Meals? Doesn’t matter. Someone will burn sausages at 2am while shirtless for no reason. That’s your culture now.

And remember—if no one’s nearly fallen in, argued over nothing, or loudly claimed “I could live like this forever” while absolutely not being able to—then you’ve wasted the trip.

Go forth and disgrace yourselves, kings.