The tragi-comedy of Peppa Pig World

There is something uniquely soul-destroying about British theme parks. The effusive, American cheer of Disney Land somehow fails to translate in Blighty where no amount of sugary pastel scenery, singing flowers and glockenspiel music can distract from the bad weather. Indeed, if Peppa Pig World really does embody 'the power of UK creativity', as Boris suggested in his CBI speech, we really are in more trouble than I thought.

Maybe the PM got lucky with the weather during his visit to Peppa Pig World last weekend. But, for the rest of us, it's hard not see an hour-long queue in the drizzle for Peppa's Big Balloon Ride as anything other than a particularly cruel form of parental purgatory. Yet, for modern parents like Boris and Carrie, it's almost a rite of passage. All those preened hedges, fake duck ponds and teacup rides would be made much more palatable with a dash of Californian or Floridian sunshine thrown in. And it's not just the climate that's the problem. Our national temperament just isn't cut out for the endless good cheer that a proper theme park demands: even the ride operators in their bright purple uniforms look singularly glum.

Britain's theme parks are far more successful when they embrace the macabre and the perverse. During a family holiday to Devon this year, I had the pleasure of visiting Watermouth Castle which boasts as its centrepiece a water clock where, on the hour, every hour, a giant knight is decapitated by a guillotine. There's also a rickety, steam-powered fountain show that features a deliciously parochial recreation of the Dam Busters set to the tune of Land of Hope and Glory. It's wonderful, and, rather than morosely standing in a queue, the kids and the grown ups spent the day guffawing with glee.

Further north, there's the Yorkshire Dales' famous Forbidden Corner – a folly built by eccentric estate owner Mr C.R.Armstrong CMG O.B.E. whose primary aim is to get its visitors lost and laughing for hours. It features a burping gatehouse (yes, really) and hidden fountains that will soak unsuspecting visitors should they take a wrong turn. Only the British would award an OBE to the creator of such a place; we excel at this sort of playful humour. Rather than embrace Peppa as our national figurehead of fun, why don't we make more of our instinct for the absurd? The Americans won't get it and nobody will export it but, my goodness, family days out will be much more of a hoot.

Boris Johnson may tout Peppa as the embodiment of Great Britain but perhaps she's better being exported than keeping on home soil – and not just because, in Boris's words, 'they're a bit stereotypical about Daddy Pig.' As any parent who has made the pilgrimage down the M27 to Paulton's Park will tell you, there's much more to this sceptred isle than Peppa.