Visitors to Boris Island will discover a world so unbelievable it could almost be a fantasy, writes our travel writer.
Situated in the unique Thames Estuary, Boris Island, dubbed the latest must-visit holiday destination, is within spitting distance of the inimitable Isle of Dogs. The island boasts everything a Borisophile could ask for.
Sometimes known as the isle of romance, Boris Island has a reputation for weaving a hypnotic spell over women, especially good-looking, intelligent ones. It’s been said that many male visitors – even overweight, unattractive middle-aged buffoons – leave the island with, not one, but two mistresses on their arm.
While on the island, active sorts can grab themselves a Boris bike - available during the hours of 3 to 3.30 pm, except on bank holidays - to explore the haunting mudflats, rainbow-oiled beaches and swampy bogs of the island.
If cycling is not their thing, visitors can try their hand at Wiff Waff. Never heard of it? Not many have. Let resort manager Bernard Fitzgerald explain.
‘Some people say Wiff Waff just a name that snobby people made up for ping pong or table tennis,’ Bernard bristled. ‘To those people, I say – keep your lower class observations to yourselves, you oiks.’
At the island’s exclusive Hedgebackwards Salon, destylists promise to tease and tousle even the most well-groomed hair into an untamed bird’s nest.
‘We had that Professor Brian Cox in here,’ said salon manager Michelle. ‘Even he looked like an albino scarecrow in a wind-tunnel by the time we’d finished with him.”
But for most holidaymakers, the big attraction is the island’s traditional game of Bullingdon, also known as See-Who-Can-Projective-Vomit-Furthest.
‘The rules are quite esoteric,’ Bernard patronised, ‘and really only understandable if you are a very, very, very rich person, but I’ll do my best.
‘Participants have to dress in distinctive period kit and compete to throw various items at moving targets known as ‘waiters’. This continues until the venue or ‘pub’ is declared ‘totally trashed’ or, more commonly, until the game reaches a stage known as ‘here come the bobbies’.
‘It ends with participants dancing a ritual haka, wavring wads of cash in the air and invoking the spirit of their uncle, who’s a close personal friend of the Chief Constable. It’s huge fun for everyone – except the waiters and the police, of course.’
Our travel writer's trip to Boris Island was arranged by Deluded Vanity Projects Ltd at a cost of £50 billion or £8,000 per person. Please note; strict restrictions on Liverpudlian visitors apply.