Yesterday evening, I travelled across to the far side of town to pick up a takeaway. My wife is away camping with our youngest, so my two older children and I are using it as an excuse to eat trash.

The takeaway is in an area of town home to many immigrants. I really like it – the street in question has a “permanent street party” vibe. People sit outside the shops, or lean against the wall of the Lidl carpark, chatting and drinking. There is quite a lot of drinking.

So I park, and as I cross the road I pass a group. Amongst all the chatter, I hear, very loudly and excitedly:

“(Polish language, which I don’t speak) PINGU! (More Polish)”

I’m wearing my Pingu tee-shirt. EVERYONE in the group focusses on me. I get waves and cheers. I do a pirouette for them – you know, pandering to the fans.

I go and collect the takeaway, and return. More waving and cheering.

And as I drive to the carpark exit, I get a drunk escort as they stand in the road and block the traffic so I can get out. They wave me away.

It turns out that Pingu is a planet-wide language. It is the Great Equalizer. We are all united as one.

Noot noot to you all, my brothers and sisters.