Bunga Bunga for Saturday brunch

Brunch has been a certain sort of Londoner’s favourite meal for a few years now, but Bunga Bunga's new brunch date is less breakfast or lunch, more a four course dinner and boozy after party thrown slap bang in the middle of a Saturday afternoon.

The ‘Englishman’s Italian’ on Battersea Bridge Road is a den of fabulous tackiness, with rustic wood tables, a Martini branded Vespa, vintage scooters hanging from the ceiling and every spare space on the walls adorned with funny Italian adverts and magazine covers. Berlusconi’s face is inescapable – from our table we spot no less than eight images, including a large painting on canvas of the inimitable Silvio as a shark. If you’re a man, his cheesy grin framed by a porthole welcomes you into the loos. The lucky ladies are greeted by Nancy Dell’olio.

The menu is somewhat more tasteful than the setting. Starting off with homemade bread, Bonne Maman jams and a fresh fruit salad of oranges, apples, blueberries, pineapple, grapes and two types of melon, by the time you’ve got through this and the cured meat plate (which includes prosciutto, wild boar and capocollo) the pizza seems insurmountable.

Somehow the mix-your-own, unlimited bellinis provide the courage to tackle the less than discreetly named ‘Untouchable Nancy’ or ‘Italian Stallion’. Our waiter, David, clad in an apron that showcased Michelangelo’s appreciation for the male anatomy, assures us that one of the rules of the place is “if you don’t like it don’t complain, you can just drop it on the floor”.

But it’s not just English reserve that will stop guests taking him up on this offer – the pizza is delicious. Crisp, chewy and light, the dish is all flavour rather than dough. The Nancy’s rich goats cheese and pancetta is balanced by a gentle creamed spinach and a wet, yolky egg. The Stallion is solid; the Parmesan, rocket and prosciutto authentic but not overwhelming.

Dessert is a two-hander, an adventurous little chocolate, banana and strawberry pizza. More intriguing than delicious, the accompanying gelato selection more than makes up for it. Just as it should be, the gelato is pure flavour and imperceptible texture – dark chocolate, pistachio, vanilla, and tangy crushed raspberry.

Halfway through the meal the lights go down and a red-haired, tightly clad vamp sings diva covers. As the afternoon wears on your head gets fuzzier and the music louder, the 80s disco and cheese tunes that you would expect of a dodgy small town European club are played, and the staff and clientele alike start dancing round the gondola-shaped bar. The combination of whooping and cheering at the acts, unlimited alcohol and drawn blinds means that Bunga Bunga has somehow created a fabulous night out on a south-west London afternoon.

The clientele – mainly girls in their twenties hailing from Clapham or Chelsea – seem to love it. The bar is certainly female friendly, with bag hooks every ten inches along the bar and flirty waiters who communicate solely with body language and laughs. Except here, unlike in Rome or Sicily, it’s because you can’t hear them above the music rather than the language barrier.

Bunga Bunga’s brunch is not for the hungover or faint of heart, but it’s the perfect place to start off one of the best Saturdays you’ll have had in some time – even if there is a distinct possibility you’ll be in bed sleeping it off before most people head out for the night.

* Bunga Bunga’s Saturday Brunch is held from 12 – 6pm and costs £40 per head.