Andrew Kotting’s sense of humour breaks the anvil. It is surreal, intensely personal and as fresh as wind. Anyone lucky enough to have seen Gallivant, which followed his mentally defected daughter Eden’s journey around Britain with her great-gran, knows what an original, sensitive and unconventional filmmaker he is.

This time it’s about dad, deadad, inflatable dad, and taking him/it to the relevant places of his life, such as the road upon which Andrew was conceived, the train that took him to work in Germany, “the church he pulled bells with my mother,” the beach where his youngest son learnt to surf, the house he built, “the beach at which I lost my virginity” and many, many more, including Mexico for the Day of the Dead ceremony, Hollywood, the Faroe Islands and Wuppertal where deadad was born.

After dad died in 2000, Andrew had a 12ft inflatable made with the old man's image, suited and laughing, printed upon it. The film relates to the son’s efforts in blowing up his enormous deadad in the most unlikely places. It is so British, it out Montys Python.

Andrew dresses like deadad, or rather livedad, in suit and tie, even when body surfing. He poses grinning while having conversations with one of his friends on the camera, as behind him the inflatable emerges from flatness into ghostly oblongness.

Half way through he remembers that dad had a dad and so another inflatable is built and deadad’s deadad joins the party. Also, Eden appears, sometimes in a wheelchair, and for those who loved her in Gallivant she is more than welcome. In fact, she accompanies her father to Mexico, where she wears a skeleton outfit and seems to be having the whale of a time.

Everyone has a whale, the audience included. Deadad would be proud. Back home in the back garden kids are using him as a bouncy castle. It’s time to say goodbye and thank you to all the Kottings, dead and alive. It’s been fun.