Tour concluded, we’re back in the catering tent when Depp’s arrival prompts craning necks and pretend-nonchalant murmurs. And there he is, going for the custard.

One of the world’s most famous men ladling steaming vanilla gloop into a bowl of sponge-something.

“Would Johnny mind,” we ask of our ever-vigilant unit publicist, “if we sidle over, maybe fall into conversation?” The unit publicist looks up at Johnny, smiles. Johnny settles down with his sweet.

Or rather, Tony Angelotti, Depp’s spookily identikit stunt double, settles down with his dessert. The penny drops, the buzz cools. Angelotti removes his hat and digs in.

The unit publicist assures Total Film that he really, really will try to sneak us a few minutes with Real Johnny Depp.

We scoff at the idea. But later, after half an hour of squinting into a monitor as Johnny/Jack is repeatedly hauled before King George, Depp wanders over.

He’s twinkly-eyed but oddly deferential, like a teenager being introduced to his girlfriend’s parents. Medium-strength handshake. Faint smell of lavender.

We fixate on his pirate shoes. He notices. “They are a magnificent pair of shoes, aren’t they?” He grins. “Quite heavy, too!”