Pete came down from Nottingham with a good pair of shoes, a better sense of humour, and the sort of practical kindness you cannot teach on a course. Back home, "Eh up me duck" meant hello. At Tally Ho, it became his way of making nervous people feel a little less alone.

He is not a doctor, and he would be the first to tell you. But he knows the rhythm of a hospital: which corridor calms people down, which trolley has a wobbly wheel, which consultant needs the right set of notes before the whole clinic starts making noises.

That is Pete's gift. He carries the ordinary things that make care possible: patients, folders, equipment, messages, cups of tea, and the human bits that can get lost when everyone is busy being clever.

And because he has heard plenty of nonsense in his time, he keeps a little yellow duck in his pocket. When a claim sounds too shiny, too certain, or too salesy, Pete gives it a squeeze. Quack quack. Not rude. Just a reminder to check the evidence.

Pete's evidence mascot

Pete's fallacy duck

In Nottingham, "me duck" can be a friendly hello. Pete keeps that warmth. He wants people to feel welcomed, not talked down to.

But there is a sharper joke tucked inside it. In 17th-century England, "quack" became a word for a medical charlatan, shortened from "quacksalver", with roots in the Dutch "kwakzalver". So Pete's duck is not just cute. It is his tiny yellow alarm bell for medical nonsense.

When a claim sounds too shiny, too certain, or too salesy, Pete gives the duck a squeeze. Not to be rude. Just to say: lovely story, now show us the evidence.