I’ve launched my very own summer camp – what could go wrong?

IF there are any frantic parents out there looking to fill a week of their children’s school holidays – perhaps Archery Camp is full and now there is a yawning, daunting gap between Basket Weaving Camp and Clog Dancing Camp – then the good news is that I have decided to launch my very own Summer Camp.

Bookings are now open for my innovative, exciting camp, which I have meticulously designed using my own extensive experience and my qualification of once having been a child.

My camp will run from Monday to Friday, though if some children want to show up earlier or later or not at all, that can be accommodated.

There will be no parking facilities at my camp, so children should just walk – or better still, run – to it once they’ve finished breakfast. It is advisable that children eat a decent breakfast as well as a substantial dinner at the end of each session as there will be no food supplied during camp hours because the children will be too busy to think about eating.

Camp activities will take place at a state-of-the-art garden wall, or a field or possibly beside some big trees. Uniforms are not provided so children should arrive wearing whatever they were going to wear that day anyway.

The morning’s activities will commence with talking about what you watched on television the night before (children will be divided into two groups for this: the Love Islanders and the more-interesting, Literally Anything Else group.)

This will be followed by a halfhearted game of football with teams of differing numbers of players, to include a fly goalie who will only be in goals if he or she can tear up the park to try to score at the other end. The game will end with a final row, and teams will then regroup for robust games to include Red Rover, Dodgeball and Sick, Dying, Dead, Buried.

The camp administrators take no responsibility for children being winded or breaking their arms through these activities as we have no insurance. We also have no money, so there is no point in suing us. Other activities will include making a swing from a rope and a tyre tied to a tree, and pushing each other out over a river.

Children with an interest in the arts will also be accommodated – freestyle singing sessions will explore the children’s abilities to rhyme their friends’ surnames with rude words.

Daisy-chain making will also be provided, along with nature walks, which will teach the children to identify which yellow flowers indicate a love of butter and which suggest that somebody wets the bed. Where sour bellies are available, children will be encouraged to suck the stems of the flowers and make loud “yeuch” noises. Water will not be provided.

THE camp will also feature a summer school aspect, with, where applicable, participants encourage to write down car registration numbers and to count the numbers of different coloured cars they see. If a yellow car is spotted, it is possible that some children may administer six swift punches to the upper arm of the child sitting beside them. This is regrettable but unpreventable. If two children accidentally say the same thing at the same time, similar consequences may ensue. Ditto farting.

While my summer camp promotes peace and harmony, it is anticipated that war games may break out from time to time, with participants utilising such weapons as fingers, twigs and imaginary horses.

I regret that these games will not be stopped until the opposing forces grow bored, by which time their rumbling tummies and the position of the sun may dictate that it’s time to pack up for the day.

Happily for me, there is nothing to actually pack up. Which is just as well, as I won’t be there, preferring to administer my summer camp from the

Glam mammies: Beyoncé and, inset, hugging Meghan Markle comfort of my sun lounger, a considerable distance away. Children will make their own way home at the end of each session. Parents are discouraged from enquiring about the session, as at least half of what the children tell you will be lies and the rest will be terrifying. And maybe, because it might give helicopter parents a reminder of how their own summers were spent.

It’s free, obviously, and there’s no real need to book. And my camp is guaranteed to be both boring and brilliant in equal measure. Oh, and upon further consideration, I’m dropping the c word from its name altogether: it’s just called Summer Holiday. Maybe you should try it some time.