There exists, somewhere, a photo of a certain Travel Editor - younger and drunker than the one pictured above - scaling the side of the Beehive in about 1994. He got a fair way up, though it couldn't be said he knocked the bastard off.
The intrepid explorer reached, perhaps, a third-floor balcony before lights flashed, sirens rang and he rapidly descended before disappearing into the night, sprinting alongside his boozed-up companions (one now a teacher, another a well-regarded surgeon and the other some sort of genius engineer).
Happily, these events occurred in an age when there was no such thing as Twitter, the invention of the selfie lay beyond the mettle of mortal man and a business called Instagram would reasonably be presumed to be a dodgy strip club delivering hot totty to your door.
In short, if those of us over 30 had the worst excesses of our youth published on social media, we'd be left with nothing to tut-tut about today.