Once they hit 16, Danes can drink, consuming 11 litres of pure alcohol per person per year, according to the World Health Organisation - something that’s bound to stave off shame. At least until morning. And because Denmark still has student grants (remember them?), anyone over the age of 18 is paid to study - for as long as they like. Lubricated, uninhibited and happy to live like a student until their 30s, in some cases, it’s no wonder Danes are so relaxed.

When Danes do make it to the workplace, the fun continues. Birthdays are marked with lots of singing and special man-shaped cakes - everyone screams when you behead the cakeman. Danish celebrations are not for shrinking violets. Many workplaces have leisure clubs or associations attached and several in my area also boast their own office band. Guitars are whipped out at every opportunity and communal music making with Lars from accounts is considered a perfectly normal hygge(‘relaxed’, ‘friendly’ or ‘cosy’) time.

The result of all this embarrassment-free living? Danes have the highest levels of contentment on the planet (so says the UN World Happiness Report) and don’t worry too much about what they look like.

Two years in and I’m slowly starting to get it. Having a baby helped. I pretty much checked in my pride at the labour ward and now spend a good proportion of each day making animal noises to entertain my son and playing "guess the stain" (Poo? Chocolate? Week-old banana?). "Dressing up" now involves putting a clean jumper on over whatever toothpaste or purée-smeared item of clothing I have on underneath. I look and sound ridiculous much of the time. But that’s okay. The world does not end. And so I’m planning to carry on living Danishly in the gelotophobia-free nation for a little longer.