For someone who loves a bloody good chillax, David Cameron doesn't always seem to "get" his choice of holiday location. Take Ibiza, a favourite Cameron destination over the last couple of years – it's the perfect place to temper the stresses of a job that involves both pretending to understand the economy and speaking to Michael Gove on a daily basis. But do we see Cameron out gurning the night away, bare-chested on some podium in Manumission shouting: "Bollocks to Ukip!"? No, he just goes there to have a meal with his wife while wearing a polo shirt. Rubbish.
I fear the same thing will happen with Cameron's latest destination, Jura – a remote island off the west coast of Scotland and undoubtedly one of the coolest places on earth. For one thing, Jura is a whisky drinker's paradise – from the distillery itself to the treasure trove of fine peaty malts only a short stop away in neighbouring Islay. Jura also has a history of artistic endeavour. George Orwell famously retreated there to write Nineteen Eighty-Four, and the KLF chose the rain-lashed island as the perfect setting to burn £1m in an abandoned boathouse. These are the pilgrimages I made during my brief stay in Jura, although I would advise the Camerons to prepare in advance for what they're looking for. The KLF's money-burning location is unadvertised and likely to inspire some grumbling on the part of locals if you inquire as to its location: despite the odd story of relatives finding singed £50 bills stuck in the chimney, many don't appreciate their island being associated with the episode.
Still, he might at least appreciate the beautiful scenery (spend a day cycling to the northern tip and you'll find unspoiled coastline and the Corryvreckan whirlpool in which Orwell himself once nearly drowned) and an abundance of wildlife: with around 5,000 red deer, hunting is popular here and what self-respecting Tory doesn't like killing beautiful living things in their spare time?
Jura is also incredibly remote and that, let's face it, is the main reason Cameron has gone there. He might not want to visit the sites of grossly offensive art pranks or drink so much 16-year-old single malt that he's sick on the ferry back to the mainland. But he will have extremely limited 3G coverage whenever Gove tries to call and that can only mean one thing: chillaxation heaven.
