Doomed to Fail

Two Summers ago, I received a call from a woman whose son was in the first year at Imperial studying physics.
He had failed his first year exams and had retakes in eight weeks could I tutor him?
That’s what I’m here for, so I said I would talk to him.
Having failed his first year, he had taken himself off to some remote island in the Caribbean, which had no regular air service, and apparently he wanted me to tutor him via webcam. When I spoke to him, over the webcam, he was drunk, or drugged, or both.
I declined.
His mother then suggested she fly me out to him, I presume by private plane.
The whole thing was starting to make extremely little sense by this stage, and I declined.
What is the point anyway for me, nannying some drunk, drugged rich kid away from the bar and the beach and the golf course somewhere in the Carribean so that he can carry on a charade, of pretending to study while actually parting away drinking away his time at University and eventually failing his degree anyway or getting only a pass and having to settle for a job in his daddy’s company?

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