I grew up in Bangor, a small city in north-west Wales. It's set in the seemingly infinite landscapes of Snowdonia national park, so it's a godsend for weed-smoking students and outdoorsy types. But for its native teenagers, it's boring. Venturing outside the town requires parental help, and there are no youth clubs (well, none that I knew of). The life of a Bangor teenager is defined by loitering, time-wasting and getting wearily turned away from the local pubs you might dare to try to enter. My brother and his friends, having the temerity to socialise in sportswear, spent most Saturdays getting moved on by police from one end of the high street to the other.

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