Lyndsey Winship

Radebe isn’t a trained actor, and although he has a rich tone to his voice, singing doesn’t come as naturally to him as dancing. But the stratospheric charisma he has when he’s moving is rare: full beam at the audience, his face animates every moment, and he throws some Latin flair into Leah Hill’s upfront and versatile choreography. In contrast, Radebe delivers a moving rendition of Not My Father’s Son in almost stillness, eyes closed, and it’s a heartfelt moment.

Book seats in the stalls to get the most out of it – there’s nothing worse than feeling like the fun (streamers shot from a giant cracker, snow, gingerbread-scented haze) is going on elsewhere and you can’t quite touch it. I ask my son about his favourite part. “The quiz!” he says. Did you learn anything new? “That mistletoe is really called ‘poo on a stick’!” he laughs delightedly. That is indeed the Anglo Saxon origin of the word. Scatological and educational: Moate has hit the kids’ entertainment sweetspot.